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Once again it is late Fall and on an overcast misty day. It must be the woods behind my parents big white house. I am about twelve or fourteen years old and Lothar is with me. Leaves cover the ground and the trees are almost bare. Lothar is in an aggressive mood. We end up wrestling with each other. He's got that playful obnoxious gleam in his eye. He's not about to give up the battle yet and neither am I. We end up on the ground and then I get away and give him some playful insults that give him cause to chase me around the barren trees.
The leaves are slippery and he catches me from behind. He's the same size as I am but a little heavier. He's trying to get control of me and I'm struggling a lot. I know what he wants to do to me, but I tell him it's cold out and who knows who will come along out here. I'm afraid of being caught. I tell him no, but he gets my pants down anyway and I continue to struggle. He tries to do what he wanted to do and loses grip on me. I pull away and pull up my pants.
I am angry with him and now he's upset with me. I can tell my jaw is all tightened up and I am breathing hard. We exchange a few unpleasantries as we stare angrily at each other. Finally I turn around and walk off to the house. I'm angry. He's still standing back there pissed off and apparently unable to understand why I didn't want to let him do what he wanted to do. I'm not sure why either except that I didn't want to be caught. He had reason to be miffed with me because it was an agreement between us that the one put into position would yeild, but for some reason I really didn't want to and he was being rather rough.
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