And it all started a long time ago. There were no men in our family, only women. And their friends, acquaintances and work colleagues were also all women. A man was for me a messenger from another world, a mysterious creature. And I really wanted to know how everything was arranged there in his hidden places. Men smelled of tobacco, their faces were prickly and rough. Actually, in early childhood, I did not search for naked men. Seeing them was a matter of chance.
It was in the 1950s, I was 7 years old, we were on a summer vacation in Chisinau, Moldavia. One day we all went swimming together on the Dniester River, 20 km from the city. The driver, whom we called uncle Vladimir, took us there in his jeep Willys. And on the river, away from everyone, when we were about to leave for home, he took off his black underpants and began to wash and lather what was under them. I saw a dick (I don't think I knew that word yet), a whole bush of pubic hair (impressive!), I saw his ass. It was a man’s ass, something special, not the same as we, children, had. I stared at him.
(By the way, the fate of this uncle Vladimir, who made such an impression on me, was sad. He caused a road accident, hit someone, ended up in prison. His wife left him. After he returned from prison he became an alcoholic.)
