Old Expat

     Old expatriate might be the best way to describe my final years as an identical twin. I've been teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) for 21 years now.

     These days, I work as an IELTS speaking trainer for an English as a Second Language center in Da Nang. I teach part-time, around 12 hours a week. I don't mind the work too much. It's a pretty good job for me at this stage in my career. After 20-plus years as an ESL teacher in four Asian countries it's the last job I'll ever have.

     But for the demons, my life as an old expat, as my late father would say, ain't too shabby. At least that's the way I see it most of the time. Other times, I see it as a total shit show.

     Perhaps my main downfall as a transient being, and the foremost reason I failed to reach my full potential as an earthborn mortal, is my largely lifelong addiction to masturbation. This is a touchy subject to say the least, no pun intended.

     My dependence on and eventual habituation to the erotic stimulation my own genitals began innocently enough with Playboy magazines in the seventh grade. But I experienced my first penis-in-vagina-sex, along with my first inkling of an orgasm, when I was only nine years old. It happened in Anchorage, Alaska.

     Her name was Katie, a 9-year-old from our neighborhood who also happened to be the go-to girl for any 9–12-year-old boys in our neck of the woods looking to explore their preadolescent sexuality.

     I believe our first encounter took place in her bedroom one sunny summer afternoon while playing albums on her record player. At some point an innocent game of you show me yours and I'll show you mine led to a titillating flurry of rubbing, petting, and pecking.

     Weeks or months later, a group of boys from the neighborhood got Katie to come over to the house of two of the boys, brothers who lived in a big two-story place right off a trailhead leading through some woods to a sledding and tobogganing hill about a quarter mile away. My brothers and I had many adventures in that wooded area.

      I remember watching Scooby-Doo cartoons while waiting for my turn with Katie, who was already being violated by our hosts in the walk-in closet of one of their bedrooms. A second pair of brothers from another family were also waiting for their seven minutes in heaven with Katie in the closet.

     I went in after the first two brothers. The lightbulb in the closet had been clicked on, and Katie was lying on the carpeted floor wearing nothing but underwear. While fumbling and fingering around with her hairless pussy, I got my first peak inside a vaginal opening. It may have been her hymen, but whatever it was, it looked bloodred and menacing, like the maw of some wormlike alien.

     After poking my penis around her labia for a while we changed positions, with me lying on my back and Katie climbing on top. We wriggled around for few minutes and then something magical happened: my four inches of boyhood inadvertently entered her introitus and slid up into vaginal canal.

     Just at that moment the older brother of the two boys still waiting in the wings opened the closet door and looked down at my face. "Hey, it's our turn," he whispered.

      All at once a mind-numbing and spine-tingling surge of paralyzing orgasmic pleasure sluiced through my body like fervent blasts from a fixed-thrust hypergolic decent engine on a soft lunar landing. I couldn't move. I lay motionless under Katie, staring upwards with unblinking, narcotized eyes, the trancelike rush of rapturous ecstasy shooting through me like liquid-fueled rocket propellant.

     The boy seemed to find my momentary state of mind-blowing paralysis funny. Chuckling, he briskly waved his hand above my head to try and snap me out of it. "Hey, hey, time to get up," he enjoined.

     The afterglow of pleasurable euphoria stayed with me for a while longer, lingering in my gut and groin like the jouncing, undulating parachute of a decelerating space capsule coming back down to earth.