DW-07 "Full Moon During The Day"

DW-07 "Full Moon During The Day"

A Chapter by dw817
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I stood up to turn and look to see the truck slowly driving to the left down the road. I remember hearing the tires crunching the pavement as I guess the trailer was so heavy with other students ...

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D A T I N G   W Y O N A

© January 2021 - Written by David Wicker
Please do not reprint without permission



 
  CHAPTER 7 - "Full Moon During The Day"

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* * *


This chapter is Rated: TEEN


Hello ! And welcome to the new year 2021.

If you are just coming in to this random chapter the story is non-fiction and focuses on the influences in my life growing up that led me to be catalogued as well, confused. At least that's what my best friend who is gay and my girlfriend who is straight tell me.

I asked her if I was straight or gay and she said, no, you're just confused.
I asked HIM if  was straight or gay and he said, no, you're just confused.

So that's a lot of help, right ? :)

In any case having covered the chapters of my time at camp and the influences there we continue on.

Flash forward to a few years. Now I'm in Elementary school and there are all kinds of influences around me.

I remember actually going to recess, not locking myself up in the Reading Room (Library) as I used to.

I attended P.E. and we did sports. I am remembering being chosen for a game of baseball and while I could never hit the ball - when it came time to field they sent me in field alright. Far left field where I quickly lost interest in the game and started playing with the flowers and ladybugs.

There was a time when I heard someone yell, "Poindexter ! It's headed your way !"

So I looked up and that ball just beaned me right on the head. I remember there was hooting laughter and giggling from everyone and then it went black. I woke up in the nurse's station with a splitting headache.

She seemed fairly nice. "That's not the way you catch a baseball." she told me in a quiet and kind voice.

I nodded, and you would think I would've learned my lesson and not returned, but once my head healed up, I did, to baseball, but this time I had one eye on the flowers and the other on the field. Strangely no-one ever sent a ball my way again.

There were some girls doing jumping jacks to my far right when the teacher was called away.

During the time of no teacher one of the black girls from the group ran over to me as I was closest and yelled, "Hey, Poindexter ! Getta a load of this !"

And she ran right in front of me to pull down her shorts and panties. And for the first time in my life I saw - "bush."

But nothing stirred in me. There was no excitement. Not even shame. Curiosity maybe. I actually remember getting down on my knees to get a better look at what she was showing me - which she eagerly allowed, bobbing her hips back and forth playfully.

I really wasn't knowing what I was supposed to be seeing, but I thought I would be polite nonetheless. "That's - very nice." I told her. I stood back up. "But I'm playing baseball here and I need to concentrate on that. Thank you."

She gave me a really puzzled look, hiked back up her panties and shorts and went back to the group when the teacher arrived again to give more exercise commands.

Now if I thought that was the end of it, it was NOT. As I was back in the changing room the other boys were egging me on. Apparently they could see what was happening in the distance. All kinds of questions.

"Poindexter ! Did you like what you saw ?"
"I bet you wanted a piece of that pie, huh ?"
"So tell us ! What did you see ?"

I had to think for a minute, finally I said, "I didn't see anything."

And apparently that wasn't the right answer. They all started hooting and hollering like it was some grand insult I guess. In fact as I had dressed and was ready to leave for class, stepping out the P.E. door when the same girl who flashed me earlier grabbed me by the front of my shirt and slammed me up against the locker angrily !

"Wha - what'd I do !?" I quavered in fear.

"Didn't see anything, huh !?" she said angrily narrowing her eyes on me.

I bit my lip and tried to explain, "I - didn't see anything because - I didn't - I don't know what I was seeing !"

She raged and pulled toward and against to slam me in the locker noisily again. It was clear she was angry but with what I said it softened her after a minute. "Maybe you'd like me to explain it to you - in there." and she pointed to the girls restroom.

Now every time a girl had dragged me in the girls' restroom it had never ended well so I shook my head, "No ma'am !"

"Too bad cause that's where you're going." she said and then started to do just that, dragging me by my shirt when a teacher came by, "Children ! That was the bell, you need to be in class !"

She immediately let go of me which caused me to fall to the ground with my overpacked backpack. The teacher helped me up as the black girl spoke, "He's really clumsy."

But the teacher didn't stick around, she had to be in class herself. I picked myself up and my backpack which had fallen off.

She looked around. It was clear she wanted to take control of this situation but wasn't expecting me to be so naive about sexuality I guess. She then yelled, "You and me are fighting after school ! You lose and I'm gonna -" But then she ran off before finishing the sentence.

At this point I had to wonder which was worse. Getting beat up by a girl or her "explaining" things to me in the girls' restroom. At the moment the girls restroom was the most terrifying thing of all. After classes though I had an idea. I knew the students knew the route I took to walk home.

So instead I went the exact opposite direction, behind the school and circled backwards around a block, and then took that route home. And I met with no resistance.

I didn't see the girl again and no-one mentioned anything about what happened. So that was one point in my life where - once again - girls gave me trouble.

Flash forward again. Same school, same grade, different situation. Dad said he was going to pick me up from school so I didn't need to walk home this time. Told me to wait for him by the school entrance.

Well because no-one liked me I couldn't even sit in the shade of the school which was dotted with a bunch of other students waiting for their ride to arrive.

So I walked forward until I was right by the curb where I was certain no-one would complain of me sitting too close to them. I was reading a good story in my reading book when I heard a whole bunch of hooting and hollering to my right.

There was a slow-moving truck carrying a wagon and I guess they were high-schoolers or something.

* * *

I couldn't really tell what was going as for the most part I just saw the front of the truck and the yellow headlights were on, which was unusual I thought.

I set my book down to stand up and turn to look to see them slowly driving to the left down the road. I remember hearing the tires crunching the pavement as I guess the trailer was so heavy with the other students.

And it was all guys with their pants and underwear around their knees. Mooning. The whole lot of them, guys definitely older than me and some kind of paper banner on the truck itself. They slowly went by me and I passed naked butts only a few feet from where I stood.

I was paralyzed with confusion and fear unsure of if I should just sit down and ignore them or run away.

And then they noticed me staring at them and there were all kinds of comments:

"Hey, Whoo ! Hey, look at this kid ! I think he likes our show !"
"Yeah, he's sure getting an eyeful, ain't he ?"
"Yeah, kid. Get up here and eat my a*s !"

There was rude laughter with that one. I stared unmoved. One of them near the far end of the trailer who was fully clothed and not mooning, perhaps a lookout, saw how close I was standing next to the curb and yelled, "Stop the truck !"

And the driver did stop. I watched the parade of naked butts amazed that students could get away with this kind of thing without being sent to the principal's office ! With a spanking no less !

The guy at the far end then quickly jumped off the trailer, ran around me, and grabbing my shoulders and backpack urged me forward to bring me up on the trailer with everyone else.

One guy near the front who was mooning turned around to help me up on the trailer and I saw he was naked in front too with a massive member fully erect and lots of hair beneath.

I could only stare in shock and amazement at how huge it was !

With two of the older students working together they had just about got me up on the trailer from the side where I could smell strong liquor and moldy hay - that is until I heard a shrill whistle behind me.

I turned my head to look and saw it was the principal blowing on a whistle like for P.E. and running top speed to the curb I was at ! The guy behind me suddenly let go causing me to fall over on to the ground !

And I might've seriously hurt myself except I fell on my backpack cushioning my fall, rolling sideways on the grass for a bit like a 6-sided die.

The guy who was behind me earlier jumped back on the trailer and stomped on the floor yelling, "Floor it !" The driver then gunned the engine and the truck started up in its haste to get out of there making a terrible screeching sound of tires and ground.

The principal was there in seconds to look at me. I was crying I was so upset and confused by what was going on. It was happening so fast !

"Andrew ! Did they hurt you ? Andrew ! Look at me !" He knew me by name because I had been in his office many times always getting involved with bullies.

I shook my head and spoke in my quiet voice, "They were naked."

He nodded in agreement, "It's hazing. Did you get their license ?"

"License ?" I reached for a pencil in my pocket and held it up to him hoping this would help.

He sighed angrily, "They're already gone." He looked to the left where the truck was accelerating and making a turn starting up their hooting and hollering again.

I had sat back down on the grass by the curb to contemplate what I just saw.

He turned back to look at me, "Here, Andrew, don't stand so close to the street. You'll get hurt." and he held a hand for me to grab to stand up.

He then brought me back to where the other students were by the glass door entrance who glowered at me. I was pretty sure they would've loved to see me get molested - or worse - by those older students but it didn't happen fortunately thanks to the principal.

I spoke holding a hand out, "They don't like me."

The principal looked at the other students, "What ? You don't like this fine well-behaved boy ? Well answer me !"

The answers came all at once:

"Oh no sir."
"He's our friend."
"He's my buddy."
"He's a good egg."
"He's Poindexter !"

And then there was laughing cruelly at the last statement. He looked at me and spoke, "Andrew, if ANYONE messes with you, and I mean from the street or here YOU let me know and I will take care of it, any day at all ! God ! I'm calling the police."

I nodded. It felt pretty good to be back in the shade. I took out some wadded up Kleenex from my pocket and wiped my eyes.

Fortunately no-one said a word to me or even said my hated nickname, "Poindexter" and my Dad did indeed show up to take me to his friend's house where I had cookies and could watch their TV as we didn't have one yet.

I never told Dad what happened when weird stuff like this took place because anytime it did - I always blamed myself, like it was my fault for even witnessing it. Like I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and I could've done better to avoid it.

I never did see that truck again or those guys. I wish I had at least remembered what was written on it - that might've explained why they were in such "high spirits" as they were.

As with all these events, I would get home, do my homework, play with graph paper and pencil for several hours as that was always fascinating to me. I would then mess with some of the robot toys I had collected.

About 7pm Dad had always set out some chores for me to do each evening, usually wash and put away the dishes, sometimes sweeping the kitchen floor and - vacuuming ! Now THAT was fun as that machine made a great roaring sound ! Eventually I would finish though.

And finally bed where Dad would do what I called the double-prayer. I remember being very little and him teaching it to me for the first time. It was a little tricky but I finally got it and it was a prayer we did every night of every day of the week.

He would speak and I would reply:

Dad: "Hail Mary,"
Me: "Full of Grace,"
Dad: "The Lord is with thee."
Me: "Blessed art thou among women,"
Dad: "and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."
Me: "Holy Mary,"
Dad: "Mother of God,"
Me: "pray for us sinners,"
Dad: "now and at the hour of our death."

Both: Amen

And then he would kiss me goodnight and the lights would be out, except for a very pretty blue nightlight he had for me. Blue today still being my absolutely favorite color of them all ...



END OF CHAPTER 7



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Featured Review

I was never into ball sports either. I played a bit of soccer in second grade, but I was always too interested in the grass/flowers, so they took me off the team. I don't think I ever got hit that badly, but I didn't like getting hit with the balls in general. I was bad with catching, and when I did actually catch, the balls hurt my hands and I worried I wouldn't be able to write later in the day. I actually liked dodgeball because the balls we used were super soft and didn't hurt at all no matter how hard you threw them. I liked hockey (without skates) because we used a little ball that stayed on the ground, and we hit it with sticks instead of it going anywhere near our body parts.

Wow, that's a lot of stuff to go through. You portrayed it very well as always. I could imagine it all happening. I'm also confused about why people would do that sort of thing.

That's a cool way to pray. My parents just did an "Our Father" before bed with me every night, and we would take turns, but then my Dad went atheist, so he dropped out of doing that with us, but my mom and I kept doing it until I left for university, and then I still said it to myself for the first year.

These days, I say different prayers to different gods. I even pray to my god's dog, in a sense.

Posted 5 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

dw817

5 Months Ago

>> I was never into ball sports either. I played a bit of soccer in second grade, but I was always t.. read more
Kari Rakitan

5 Months Ago

Lol, nice!



Reviews

I was never into ball sports either. I played a bit of soccer in second grade, but I was always too interested in the grass/flowers, so they took me off the team. I don't think I ever got hit that badly, but I didn't like getting hit with the balls in general. I was bad with catching, and when I did actually catch, the balls hurt my hands and I worried I wouldn't be able to write later in the day. I actually liked dodgeball because the balls we used were super soft and didn't hurt at all no matter how hard you threw them. I liked hockey (without skates) because we used a little ball that stayed on the ground, and we hit it with sticks instead of it going anywhere near our body parts.

Wow, that's a lot of stuff to go through. You portrayed it very well as always. I could imagine it all happening. I'm also confused about why people would do that sort of thing.

That's a cool way to pray. My parents just did an "Our Father" before bed with me every night, and we would take turns, but then my Dad went atheist, so he dropped out of doing that with us, but my mom and I kept doing it until I left for university, and then I still said it to myself for the first year.

These days, I say different prayers to different gods. I even pray to my god's dog, in a sense.

Posted 5 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

dw817

5 Months Ago

>> I was never into ball sports either. I played a bit of soccer in second grade, but I was always t.. read more
Kari Rakitan

5 Months Ago

Lol, nice!

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dw817
dw817

Fort Worth, TX



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