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My name is Imogene and I was born in rural Mississippi, and we were poor. We didn't know we were poor, but looking back it's obvious that we were. I preferred to be called Genie.

Our three-bedroom old house slept six adults and three young girls, including me. My parents slept in one bedroom. My uncle Theo and his wife May in another. My two sisters and I shared one bedroom and one bed. The two other adults, my brother, Georgie and his wife, Estelle slept on two army surplus cots in the living room.

I was about eleven when I started to hear strange noises coming from my parents' bedroom, Uncle Theo's bedroom and from the living room where Georgie and Estelle slept. Those noises likely happened before, but I either didn't notice or was already asleep.

A year later, I realized what those noises were, and they happened almost every night. I tried not to giggle, but at the same time I was dealing with my own issues. I was going through puberty and no one, not even my mother, told me what was happening.

Here's the other thing about all those noises. I learned at a young age that when women like my mom, Aunt May and my sister-in-law, Estelle, had their period, supposedly they were moody or in my father's words, ‘bitchy.'

The fact is it was those men who were moody and bitchy. They were young and not getting any sex. Later in life, when I thought about it, I wondered if my mom, Aunt May and Estelle knew about blowjobs. Maybe because they were good Christian ladies it wasn't something they did. As you'll see, it never stopped me.

My life changed when I turned eighteen and graduated from high school. In our town and county jobs were hard to come by. When the rich people from the other side of town, Mr. and Mrs. Hansen, asked me to help out around the house while Mrs. Hansen was pregnant. I jumped at the chance.

My pay included board and a room of my own and a bed all to myself. My duties included cooking and cleaning. Mrs. Hansen's pregnancy was very difficult. She was in bed from her fourth month on and then for almost a year after baby Harley was born. She was a petite woman, barely five feet tall, and didn't weigh a hundred pounds.

Mr. Hansen was ten years older and weighed more than twice as much as her, and he was a foot and half taller. I thought maybe she wasn't sick, just hurt from big Mr. Hansen on top of her every night. He could crush her if he wasn't careful.

According to my friends, Mrs. Hansen was impregnated behind some dive bar. Mr. Hansen was sitting naked on his motorcycle, and Mrs. Hansen mounted him and the bike, naked. Apparently, a bunch of people enjoyed the show. That's supposedly how Harley got his name.

Added to my duties of course was taking care of the baby. Mrs. Hansen had just enough strength to breast feed him. I did everything else.

I never dated in high school. It just didn't happen. Of course, I was curious about sex, especially after listening to my parents, my aunt and uncle and my brother and sister-in-law. You have to understand, I was a virgin. I hadn't even kissed a boy.

While I was working for the Hansen's, I thought he was cute. I know, he was much, much older than me. I did something that I can't explain. Whenever he was around, I'd unbutton an extra button or two on my blouse; showing more cleavage than a good girl should.

When I sat down, I opened my legs a little, showing my panties. One time, I wasn't even wearing panties.

Mr. Hansen took the hint. One day, shortly after baby Harley was born, Mr. Hansen came to my bed.

I always wore a calf length nightgown with nothing underneath in case I needed to use the bathroom down the hall in the middle of the night. When Mr. Hansen pulled up my nightgown from the hem, instead of

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