My mother, ever the analyst, said that, in the greatest irony the universe could throw at someone, my stepfather had been dealt a situation beyond belief.
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent He got into psychiatry to help save people, after seeing his mother’s decay and demise.
And his son, besides being a prick as a kid, turned out okay. Never got in trouble.
Works as a gourmet chef for a high-end hotel chain, married a wonderful girl, a scientist, got a condo on the beach in San Diego…
But his daughter, oh my, did she ever have her own decay, and demise.
And, terribly, the saga has continued. Nowadays his granddaughter, Emily, at age 13, as of this writing, has begun her own chapter of misery, already drinking, doing drugs, and cutting herself...
As tragic as this is, somehow I can’t imagine Emily turning out worse than her mother, my stepsister, Sandy. Hell, I really hope she doesn’t.
Sandy was a normal, well-adjusted young girl, until roughly age 13 (definitely an unlucky age, number for this family). It was then she began experimenting with drinking, smoking, and drugs.
She had a line of boyfriends, too. The first I can remember was a muscle-bound dude, of mixed Asian, Black ethnicity, called “Mark.”
I believe he was on steroids.
He and Sandy would constantly fight, be at one another’s throats.
Mark once stormed into my room and offered to pay me five dollars if I informed him about any guys coming by to see Sandy. I wasn’t sure how to reply. I didn’t say anything, and Sandy, blue eyes bulging, burst in and dragged him by his 17-inch biceps back to her room to resume their bickering, and I could hear the murmurs of their screaming bleeding through the walls.
Unsurprisingly, the amorous pair broke up soon after that.
Then there were many other guys, mostly Black guys, including one who was a well-known Miami crack dealer.
Sandy smoked crack a few times, tried other hard drugs, but mostly, in those days, she drank. A lot. Later, she got into heroin, though, bad, and she and her boyfriend of the moment robbed a 7-Eleven at gunpoint, stole a car, and she got locked up in a federal prison for a few years.
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent It wasn’t her first time locked up. She’d been expelled from several high schools as a teen. Finally, she’d been sent to what was termed a “Level 6” school, after punching a teacher in the face.
It was basically a lockdown facility, a stepdown from juvenile hall. (She’d been locked up in juvenile hall for a short bid too, following her arrest for punching the teacher’s face.)
At the Level 6 facility, this lockdown school for fuckups, she had to live on site, confined to a room with bars on the windows, forced onto medication, and allowed only to leave on holidays or weekends that she “earned.”
She’d occasionally run away from the facility, jumping walls, escaping for a time, to live with boyfriends or friends and party, but would invariably return after a few days of drunken recklessness.
At the school she got in trouble for maiming two boys, at the same time, thrashing them with a steel metal lunch tray, then with her fists and feet. One of the boys was beaten so badly that his nose was broken. The other had his testicles severely damaged after she stomped on them, like a female incarnation of Mike Tyson, stomping on his children... (Though I’m not sure if she bit any ears off…)
The boys, she said, had been trying to sexually harass her, and they were taught a harsh lesson about bothering this particular girl.
After hearing that story, I also learned a lesson that I shouldn’t push her too far, if at all. When she threatened to kill me for calling the cops on her dad, after he’d assaulted me, I could see in her eyes that she meant it. She likely would kill me.
However, unwisely, I pushed my luck with her, one time, later, and had sprayed her a few times, playfully, with a water gun.
She told me to quit, but I didn’t, and she made it clear I should have rethought that.
She snatched the plastic water gun, the toy, from my hands, and raised it like a whip and lashed and thrashed me with it, bashed it at my head, my arms and back, smashing it to bits, its serrated edges slashing, cutting into me as she pummeled my bitch ass that’d huddled up into a curled ball of fear on the floor.
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent Although I was scared and although it hurt, and I was bloodied, had long, jagged deep cuts on my arms, I did also find it uproariously amusing, laughing the whole time as she beat me. That, then and there, though, was the last time I fucked with her.
I did, growing up, want to fuck with her, in another way.
Albeit violent and crazy, I’ll admit that she was a rather attractive girl.
Okay, I’ll confess it. She was hot. She was a bleach blond, with rosy cheeks, translucent blue eyes, and an oval face. She had a slim figure but a jiggly, shapely ass and succulent thighs and big, firm and pointy, tubular tits.
For a boy coming into puberty, having an older stepsister like that, especially one who banged tons of dudes, dressed slutty, in tight-fitting miniskirts, tons of makeup, yeah, of course I wanted to fuck her and began masturbating furiously to the thought of it.
Would fucking her have been so wrong? She was my stepsister. Not a blood relative. Although later, as I aged and found girlfriends, my thoughts of banging her abated.
There was one time when I felt like I was close to having sex with her, though, for real.
It was, ironically, the same day I lost my virginity.
I’d lost it to this girl at school, Cindy, who was known as the school slut.
She’d been with lots of dudes. Her face was a train wreck, a Pippi Longstocking gone terribly wrong. A horrific ginger face. But her body. Holy fuck. It was incredible. She was half-Black and half-White and got the best of the Black girl body, juicy tits and a healthy, wide, rippling, round ass.
I almost fucked her at this shuttered recreation center that’d later be converted into a writer’s center. My friends and I would go there often, break things, spray-paint the place, and smoke cigarettes. Once we set a bonfire there and nearly burned the place down.
(Someone saw the fire and called the cops. When they showed up, sirens blazing, we tore off running, fast as Usain Bolt. Amazing how police in pursuit, chasing
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent you, enables such superhuman running and athletic ability. We easily outran the fat, mustachioed cops. Disappeared like ghosts into our neighborhood, of which we knew every nook and cranny…)
That old building I’d spray-painted and nearly burned down was also the first spot I smoked weed, and so of course this abandoned, vandalized building was the perfect place to take my date!
I’m not even sure how we wound up getting together. But somehow we’d started talking on the phone, landlines, as this was way before the days of cellphones, texting, online much of anything, and every school published a phonebook, with every student’s name, phone number, and address.
(In reflection, what a fucking stupid thing to do! Especially with what shitbags kids can be! Passing out that personal information… This was, in essence, virtually asking for prank calls, harassment. Which, yes, I participated in…) This was also a goldmine for talking to girls. You had everyone’s phone number!
And I guess I must have called the girl, Cindy. Or maybe she called me, because sometimes that’d happen too. Girls would call me, randomly, and we’d talk on the phone, but mostly it was me calling them- I was a slut, too, a slutty boy...
(What a time it was, back before smartphones; when you’d call a girl or whomever and you’d never know if he/she was there, who’d answer.) However it came about, I was the one to set up a date, I remember that. I’d asked her to come “hang out.” She accepted.
We met at this shopping mall down the street from my house, where I’d hang out at a record store, often, buying lots of tapes.
(Writing this in 2019/2020, I can’t help but feel how dated this is. The early 90s, record stores, tapes, CDs! I had an amazing collection of tapes and CDs, mostly metal and rap…)
We went from the record store, made our way over to the abandoned building, and quickly began making out, and I pulled up her shirt, checked out her tits, cupped them. They were so large, soft, and incredible. So fully and delightfully developed.
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent I almost tore off the rest of her clothes and fucked her right there, her back propped against that cement wall that I’d covered in graffiti. And I might have really fucked her there if my parents had been home. But they weren’t. So I asked her if she wanted to come to my house. She did. I lived close by, and walking over there, briskly, in silence, and we stepped forward with a tacit understanding, and moved briskly up the stairs to my room.
The second we got in there, we both, on instinct, perhaps, peeled off all our clothes. I’d bought condoms, in anticipation, and next thing I knew, I was mounting her and sticking my dick inside her young, redhaired pussy.
I remember my penis only getting halfway in, hitting a barrier. I didn’t know a whole lot about sex. But I did know about a “cherry,” a hymen, and knew that she was also a virgin, which surprised me, due to her reputation as the school slut.
She wasn’t as slutty as I thought, I guess… I was probably sluttier…
We fucked for five, ten minutes or so. You’d think that it being my first time, that I’d come quickly, but I didn’t, and I even kept at it after coming, for a minute or two, my dick was so hard.
She was out of breath after we finished. She said something like “that was interesting” but little else and we lay without talking for a bit, watched the Pauly Shore show on MTV, and after a few minutes I went over by the window and smoked a cigarette.
I’d heard some girls bleed a lot when they lose their virginity, but she didn’t bleed much, or at all, that I noticed.
I stubbed out my cigarette on the outer edge of the windowsill and went back to the bed, lay next to her. We watched TV for a while. The Red Hot Chili Peppers’
music video “Give It Away” and a couple others. Faith No More’s “Epic” was in heavy rotation then. It was the period in which metal was giving way to grunge and alternative.
While watching “Epic,” she got horny, eying the lead singer, and we started making out again. I don’t know why, but I popped my hard dick out from the front slit of my boxers, raised to my knees, hovered over her and shoved my dick straight into her mouth and began to facefuck her.
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent She had trouble sucking it. Teeth were involved. It was painful. For such a supposed slut, she was not living up to her reputation.
I had to angle her jaw and thrust a few more times before unloosing a massive load into her mouth.
After coming into her mouth, withdrawing, she struggled with my load, unsure what to do. She sort of gagged, her eyes bulged, and then she forced herself to swallow it and we lay for a while longer, cuddled.
I then smoked another cigarette, in bed, and we watched more MTV.
(Fuck, I miss when MTV played videos. How exciting it was to see a new band or rapper. I remember when my stepsister and I first saw Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine” on her little TV, late at night. How special it was…) Later Cindy had to go home, and when she left, she surprised a French kiss on me, and I could taste my cum on her tongue, in her mouth. It wasn’t a pleasant taste, although I’m sure some enjoy it. Perhaps it’s an acquired taste.
We didn’t talk too much after that. I think it’s because I got so fucked up on drugs that I wasn’t able to maintain personal relationships beyond my immediate fellow druggies.
We did hang out one more time, a couple months later. She’d come by my house, uninvited, with her friend. Her friend was a very attractive blond, a fellow fuckup classmate of mine, a punk rock girl, who I’d smoke cigarettes and drink with at lunchtime, in middle school.
The blond had an older skinhead boyfriend. The blond was herself sort of racist, saying once to me how “Black people are annoying because they complain about slavery and that was, like, 400 years ago,” which made me lose respect for her, but I didn’t quite know how to respond. It was more disappointing than anything.
I’ve never cared for racism.
The punk rock girl wasn’t exactly the character you’d expect a half-Black girl to hang with, or one I usually associate myself with, but, as the great Dave Chappelle once riffed on, weed (and it could be said for cigarettes) makes for strange friends.
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent The blond, her skinhead boyfriend, and the half-Black butterface ginger came to my house over the summer, and the ginger was bragging about how she didn’t shave her legs anymore, her red leg hair glinting in the sun.
I must have been quite high, because I still fucked her, while the blond and her skinhead boyfriend fucked in my stepsister’s room next door. (My stepsister was in jail at the time for punching her teacher in the face.) That was the last time I hung out with or even saw Cindy, the ginger. Last I heard of her was that she was out with some guy, and was on her period, so the guy fucked her in the ass, in a movie theater, and more people were watching that than the movie.
(I did, however, receive a Facebook friend recommendation for her not that long ago. In her profile picture, she was covered in tattoos, like every inch of her body, and had a Maori tat on her face, similar to Mike Tyson’s… I didn’t send a friend request. And she didn’t send me one either…) Back to my stepsister. She wasn’t in jail the day I lost my virginity and was still living at home. In fact, she was home and was next door, in her room when it happened.
Later on that night, the night I’d lost my virginity, she came into my room to say hello. She’d seen Cindy leave the house earlier, saying a quick “hello” to her, the two introducing themselves, quickly, before Cindy left.
My stepsister was curious about Cindy, since she was the first girl I’d brought by the house. Sandy wanted to know what we’d been up to.
I told her the truth. We’d lost our virginities to one another.
She didn’t believe me, so I showed her the used condom in the trash.
She was thrilled! More excited than me!
She grabbed her cordless phone, calling all her friends, proudly proclaiming that her little stepbrother had lost his virginity, to a Black girl! (She seemed especially pleased the girl was Black, or part-Black, at least.)
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent We watched TV together while she bragged about her little stepbrother’s sexual prowess. Then she took off her shirt, pants, and lay in bed with me, in only a teddy. A sexy one. I could see her tits and pussy through it.
She’d never done that. Gotten half-naked in front of me. Lay next to me. We talked about sex. Doing it, different positions.
I scanned her supple body. She knew I was looking, lay there, smiled. It was like me having sex with that other girl, I’d passed a test.
There was maybe, just maybe, a brief window I could have jumped on top of her, had sex with her. Given her impulsivity (her being diagnosed as bipolar, at a young age), perhaps she’d have let me. Or, more likely, she’d had slapped me and beaten me again, if I tried. But I sort of wish I’d tried. It was the first time, of many, that I reflected and wished I’d made a move on a female.
While we never fucked, we did become good buddies. She helped me get weed and once helped me out of a tough spot when a group of Black guys at my school, who I’d been friends with before, wanted to beat me down. She’d gone to school with one of their older brothers and had a word with him, and all was cool again.
Before she was sent to that school for fuckups, then to jail, and ultimately kicked out of the house, banished to her mom’s house, Sandy and me had become pretty tight. We’d smoke together, watch TV, hang. We got off to a rocky start, but later she and I were close, for a time.
Not only was she hot, but she was a pretty fucking cool chick, once you got to know her. She was kind, protective of her friends, and was a fun hang and had a wicked and dark sense of humor. We both liked standup comedy and would watch Dice Clay, Kinison, and Eddie Murphy on cable.
But we lost touch later, as she descended further down into madness.
She’d been in the army for a bit but got dishonorably discharged after going AWOL.
Then she got married to a plumber, had two kids with him, surprising everyone that she could have kids after the mountains of drugs she’d ingested, not to mention her multiple abortions.
Buffalo Bangkok: Juvenile Delinquent Her husband divorced her later, though, after she attacked him with a broken bottle, attempting to stab and slash him, accosting him, claiming that their three-year-old daughter had been telling her the husband was cheating. Fortunately for him, he was able to run away from her, escape with only a small wound on his arm.
She spent another year in prison for that and lost full custody of the kids.
In prison, she got covered, head to toe, in tattoos, which didn’t help her employment options after release (especially the face tattoo of a spider; that can’t help in job interviews).
Then she had another baby with a far younger guy from her NA group, and lost custody of that child, too, after violating her probation for smoking meth and getting into a fistfight with another lady in the parking lot of a Trader Joe’s, over a parking space, I think...
Most recently she’s been living in a trailer on a beach somewhere in northern California and has become a born-again Christian and a vegan. She’s not had steady phone numbers, email addresses, and isn’t on social media, so it’s been impossible to keep up with her. The only people she talks with are her dad and mom, who support her financially. Her brother tired of her exploits and cut ties with her years ago.
I tried keeping in touch with her for a number of years, but my calls, emails, and letters weren’t returned.