This is a true story as told to me and remembered by a close family friend.

We sat in the kitchen, chatting at her late mother’s house, while she decided whether to move back to the village.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know what to say or how to start.”

“How about starting from the beginning?”

Michelle stared at me and nodded. “I’m not sure about this, John,” she said.

“Look Michelle, a problem shared is a problem halved.”

She nodded. Okay, do you remember when we used to play ‘Down by the beck’ on the way home from school?”

I nodded; fond memories came flooding back. The infamous five we called ourselves. It was silly really, because there were six of us, five boys and Michelle.

“Do you remember when I fell in?”

I giggled, “Yes. That was when we were about eleven.”

“I was twelve, John”

Of course, she was a year older than us, I nodded, “And that old tramp jumped in the beck to save you, and we laughed because he got soaked, and you were covered in mud.”

Michelle nodded.

“Oh come on Michelle, he wasn’t that bad, is that’s what’s bothering you?”

She nodded. “What do you remember about him?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t a proper tramp. My Dad said he was a transient; he came to the village looking for work every spring and was gone by the time winter set in.

I think he used to work around the local farms. I know he used to cut the grass for my mother, and she used to give him a couple of pounds and something to eat.”

Michelle stared at me, “I’ve seen him again.”

“Don’t be silly, he was ancient then, he must be in nineties and long gone by now.”

“He lives at the home where I work.”

Michelle had worked in an aged person’s home for years; in fact she started working there once her own kids were old enough to attend school.

“Are you sure it’s him, Michelle?”

She stared at me, “Of course it’s him; he’s someone I’ll never forget.”

I stared back at her and remembered how we laughed at her predicament.

The old man had carried her home that day, and he sat on the bank of the beck everyday, waiting for us after school to make sure none of us fell in again.

He told us stories about the village in the old days as he walked us all home. We thought he was funny.

Michelle stared, “Do you remember the secret games?”

I nodded and squirmed. “Look Michelle, that was a long time ago, we were just kids, just playing, experimenting, that was all?”

“Yes, but he used to play as well.”

I nodded knowingly; true it was the old man that taught us things, secret games that we could play with Michelle, our first sexual encounters.

 I remembered the first time, how he undid the buttons on her school blouse and lifted her training bra and showed us her small breasts.

 We were mesmerized by the way he kneaded her nipples and made them hard; he showed all five of us how to do it.

I stared at her, “Has he mentioned it, I mean has he said anything?”

Michelle shook her head, “No, he can’t talk, and he’s really old and hasn’t got long left in this world. Can you remember his name?”

I nodded. , Vladimir . He was Polish or Russian or something like that.”

“It’s him, I’m sure of it. Old Mr. Grainger, the butcher, is always in there chatting to him.”

“Did we hurt you?”

“NO! Of course you didn’t, not after he’d done everything after you five did.”

“You mean he fucked you as well?”

She nodded.

“Michelle, I’m sorry we didn’t know, when, how?”

“Tell me what you can remember?” she asked.

I sat and thought back. “Michelle, it was over thirty years ago.” I vaguely remembered the tramp showing us Michelle’s body.

 I told her what I remembered, she sat quietly and listened.

Suddenly the past came flooding back.

We all sat facing the tramp as he pulled Michelle onto his knees. He lifted her skirt and pulled her knickers down to her ankles, showing us her

He stroked the small tuft of pubic hair, which we didn’t have at the time.

He explored with his fingers, opening her pussy lips and showed each of us in turn her secrets, the little nub that rose from its folds and became hard when he gently stroked it.

And her little hole, where we could put our tails in.

That’s what we called our body parts in those days.

He taught each one of us boys how to do it. I remembered how she cried the first time he pushed his finger in her little hole, and how we all pushed our fingers in after him.

Michelle nodded, “Go on, and tell me about the summer holidays.”

I squirmed, “Michelle do we have to talk about this? It was a long time ago.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, the summer holidays, that was the first time we fucked you. Down by the river, we went skinny dipping, because it was so hot”

“And whose idea was that?”

“Well, it was the tramp’s, and...”  I became quiet once again.

She stared at me, “And he stripped me naked and threw me into the river.”

I gulped and nodded, “And he stripped you naked and threw you into the river, it wasn’t deep”

“And then what?” She was getting angry.

“Well he, um, after we had played for a while, he told you to get out and he lay you on a towel on you're front, and he showed each of us in turn where to put our tails.”

 “I’m sorry Michelle.”

“Were you the first?”

I shook my head no, “I think Tommy was, I was third, I don’t recall the tramp having a go though.”

We had lots of goes with Michelle after that first time, in fact for months, right up until she left the village and went to live with her grandmother.

“He didn’t then; it was after, the next day. He took me to where he was staying, in the old barn.”

I stared at her, “In the old barn, is that where he lived?”

She nodded, and began to tell me.

“That day, after the river, I met him. He was working in Mr. Grainger’s garden, and took me to the old barn. He told me it was his turn as I was ready.”

“I thought it would be okay after you five had a go. It hadn’t hurt me, and so I didn’t really think about it at the time and went with him willingly.”

I nodded and listened.

“When we got there he made me take my clothes off and laid me down on the straw.”

“He took his clothes off and lay beside me and started kissing me.”

“He played with my boobs and nipples, the same as he taught you. He made me lie on my back and hold my legs wide open and he pushed his fingers into my pussy.”

“I’m sorry Michelle,” I blurted out, “we didn’t know.”

“Shut up and listen, I’ve wanted to tell you about this for years.”

I nodded and shut up.

He showed me his cock. Think about it. I was only twelve at the time.

“It wasn’t like you're tails, it was big, fat and wrinkly. It wasn’t hard like yours either.”

“He made me play with it. It was horrible and smelly, and when it got hard it got bigger, a lot bigger. Then he made me kiss and suck it.”

I stared at her gob-smacked, as she wiped the tears streaming down her face.

“And then he tried to put it in me. It wouldn’t fit, he couldn’t get it in. So he made me suck it for ages until he came in my mouth.”

“That’s when Mr. Grainger came into the barn looking for him and caught us.”

“Mr. Grainger?” I spluttered.

She nodded, “And he laughed at me. The tramp told me to come back later on. I got dressed and ran home and didn’t tell anyone.”

“Did Mr. Grainger have a go?”

She shook her head, “No, I wouldn’t let him.”

“About a week or so later I was at his butchers shop with my mum.”

“Mr. Grainger took me to one side and quietly told me, that if hadn’t fucked me within the next couple of days, he would have a go himself, and all the men in the village would get to hear about it, and they would do the job for him.”

I stared at her shocked, “They wouldn’t have!”

Michelle nodded. “At the time I thought they would have, believe me”.

“So what did you do?”

“I sneaked out of the house one night when everyone was in bed and went to the barn. I was so frightened, and I started imagining all the men in the village watching me all the time.”

“He put assorted sized wooden clothes pegs into my pussy and fucked me with them, trying to widen my pussy open.”

“That’s why he let you all fuck me during the day. I was only a little girl. Remember?  I just wanted it to be over with.”

“It was a rainy night when I sneaked out of the house and went to the barn. That’s when he managed to do it.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Of course he hurt me! My god, his cock was massive and I screamed the barn down when he did manage to get it all in and broke through into my womb.”

“After that I thought that was the end of it. But he wanted me to go and see him every night. I did, for weeks.”

“I was so happy when we started the new school term, and thought I wouldn’t have to go again.”

“I was so wrong! He told me to meet him anyway. So I used to go up to the barn, early on a morning before school.”

“Michelle you should have told us.”

“Tell you what, that he was fucking me every morning, while you lot were fucking me every day after school, while he was there?”

“Anyway, you lot weren’t a problem once he’d got his cock into my womb.”

I stared at her, “Is that why you went to live with your granny, to get away from him and us?”

She shook her head, “No, it was because I was pregnant.”

“Pregnant, I didn’t know that!”

“You weren’t supposed to. It became a family secret. When I’d just turned thirteen my periods started. Do you remember when sometimes I wouldn’t let you all do it?”

I nodded, in shock.

“Well, I still went to see the tramp, he did it anyway. He did things to me that you couldn’t ever do, not even now.”

I stared at her, “What about the baby, who’s was it?”

“It was taken away by the doctors, terminated. And it was his, the tramp’s baby.”

“Are you going to confront him and tell him about the baby?”

“God no, why should I? It was a long time ago and what good would it do now?”

“What about Mr. Grainger?”

“Don’t worry; I’ve already had words with him.”

The tramp, Vladimir died peacefully of old age.

 Michelle and I and our close friends attended his funeral. We sent him a wreath with “Our teacher” written in beautiful flowers.

 Mr. Grainger kept a very low profile.

The end