Story: Mary Ann's Swimming Lessons   
      
   by bobandcarole   
      
       My name is Mary Ann.  I'm twenty-one years old.  This is the story of   
   what happened to me eleven years ago when I was ten.  It was the summer of   
   1992 and I was on summer vacation.  During the typically hot Minnesota   
   summers, my mom used to drive me to my grandparents' house so I could spend   
   the day at their house.  This was always a treat since my grandparents were   
   pretty well off.  They had a big house in the suburbs even though it was   
   only the two of them.  But best of all, they had an indoor swimming pool.   
      
       As much as I liked the pool, I have to admit that I was quite afraid of   
   the water back then and I couldn't swim.  Wading in waist-high water was   
   okay but I was very fearful of the deep end.  I was enrolled in lots of   
   useless swimming lessons and, despite a closetful of swimsuits, I never   
   ventured past chest high water.   
      
       I remember that first summer day when my mom dropped me off at grandma   
   and grandpa's house.  It was already sticky and hot, even though it was   
   only June.  My grandparents met me at the door.  We went inside and chatted   
   a while before my grandpa declared that he himself was going to teach my to   
   swim that summer.  We all laughed because everyone knew about my swimming   
   difficulties.   
      
       Grandpa suggested we go to the pool right away.  Grandma declined,   
   saying she wanted to work on the garden.  So I changed into my swimsuit and   
   headed downstairs to where the pool was.  Grandpa was already in the water,   
   wearing his green swimming trunks.  He stood in waist-high water and urged   
   me to join him.  I hesitated, knowing that waist-high for him was more like   
   chest-high for me.  Grandpa insisted, though, saying he wouldn't let me go   
   under.   
      
       In the end, Grandpa had to approach the edge of the pool and hold my   
   hand as I jumped in with him.  The pool was heated so the water was just   
   right.  For a while, Grandpa and I splashed around in the pool, wading and   
   throwing inflatable pool toys back and forth.  But Grandpa soon told me it   
   was time to learn how to swim.  I balked again, telling him I was afraid.   
   But he wouldn't stop insisting and finally he talked me into a sort of   
   compromise.  I could sit on his shoulders and he would walk, underwater, to   
   the deep end.  I would stay above the water.   
      
       I agreed.  Grandpa went underwater and I watched him, all murky and   
   blue-tinted, as he moved beneath the surface of the water.  He positioned   
   himself and I soon rose up out of the water, sitting on his shoulders, his   
   head between my thighs.  I remember gripping tight on his head to keep from   
   falling.   
      
       "All right, Mary Ann," he said.  "Are you ready?  Let's go." Grandpa   
   started moving towards the deep end.  I watched as the water rose past his   
   belly button, past his chest, until it was up to his neck.  Then he took a   
   deep breath and his head went underwater.  We kept moving though and soon   
   the water was at my waist.  Then my shoulders.  Finally it reached my chin.   
   I was craning my neck as high as I could to keep from going underwater.   
      
       I tugged at Grandpa's hair, his head still underwater.  "Grandpa," I   
   squeaked.  "The water's getting too high..." I was panicking.  He couldn't   
   hear a word I was saying of course.  He kept on moving into the deep end   
   and the water soon was up to my nose.  My mouth was clenched tightly shut   
   so as to not swallow any of the pool water.   
      
       The water rose above my nose just for a moment, and the chlorine stung   
   my eyes.  I panicked again.  Even though I knew I couldn't swim, I   
   struggled and pushed myself off Grandpa's shoulders, thinking I could   
   somehow get out of the pool on my own.   
      
       I didn't.  I sank like a stone and swallowed a mouthful of water when I   
   tried to yell.  I was sure I was going to drown until I felt something   
   pulling me up to the surface.  Suddenly I was above the surface again,   
   coughing, crying, hyperventilating.   
      
       "There, there, Mary Ann, it's all right, hush now..." Grandpa was trying   
   to soothe me.  He held me close to his chest as he moved us closer to the   
   shallow end until he was standing in chest-high water.  He still held me   
   tight.  It took me a while to calm down.  When I finally did, I looked into   
   Grandpa's face and he smiled back at me.   
      
       "You should have trusted me, Mary Ann," he told me.  He promised again   
   that he wouldn't let anything happen to me.  Insisting again, he said we   
   should start swimming lessons right now.  I was reluctant, saying I was   
   scared and didn't want too.  Grandpa wouldn't let up though.  After much   
   cajoling, I let him turn me over on my stomach so I could learn to kick my   
   legs.   
      
       Grandpa held me with one hand on my chest and the other on my tummy.  He   
   then instructed me to kick my legs and snap my knees.  I tried but once my   
   legs started disturbing the water, it would churn up around me and get in   
   my face, making it hard to breathe.   
      
       Grandpa solved that by holding me at an angle, inclining my body   
   slightly so my upper torso rose higher out of the water.  That worked okay,   
   I remember.  Grandpa shifted his grip so his hand held me a little lower on   
   my belly.  He encouraged me and told me I was doing a very good job   
   kicking. Grandpa's hand kept moving lower on my body until I could feel his   
   thumb pressing at the juncture between my legs.  Even as I was kicking, I   
   could feel his thumb moving back and forth against me.   
      
       Stopping my movements, I asked Grandpa what he was doing.  He told me   
   that I was kicking wrong and he was massaging the right muscles to help me   
   kick correctly.  At the time, I remember vaguely believing what he was   
   saying.  Today I know, of course, that Grandpa was molesting me, pure and   
   simple.  But being ten years old and not knowing how to swim, I just sort   
   of trusted him.   
      
       I had my suspicions of course.  My mom had often told me that I wasn't   
   supposed to let anyone touch me down there.  She never exactly specified   
   why I shouldn't let anyone but only said I should tell her or another adult   
   if it happened.  Grandpa was touching me there but he was obviously an   
   adult.  I felt conflicted about what exactly I was supposed to do.   
      
       Meanwhile, Grandpa carried me to the shallow end until we reached the   
   pool's edge.  He sat me down on the pool's ledge and, without even   
   hesitating, pulled the crotch of my swimsuit aside, revealing my hairless   
   skin.  I remember feeling greatly embarrassed at being exposed to Grandpa   
   like this.  I watched as he took his finger, all wrinkled and prune-like   
   from the water, and start touching me.  His finger parted my hairless slit,   
   sinking into the plump flesh of my crotch.   
      
       Grandpa didn't look at me as he rubbed between my legs.  He didn't even   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)