The neighbourhood girl, whose name I don’t recall, fought hard, but I was stronger. After a minute or so of desperate struggle I overcame her resistance and planted a kiss on her lips. I might have even felt her up, but I can’t remember that far back.
You see, the incident happened over half a century ago, when both the criminal (I) and the victim (she) were 12 years old. Afterwards, she called me a moron and refused to play with me ever again. I forget how long her resolution lasted. Full Editorial