So I was looking through old neighborhood photographs of my childhood and stumbled across a picture of me and Mr. Dickinson. Mister Dickerson was the ice cream truck man in our neighborhood and would come around several times a week every few weeks. Mr. Dickson's ice cream was just incredible and all the kids wanted his special mystery flavor. In the 35 years he operated the ice cream truck, only one kid was lucky enough to even get a lick of the special flavor but legend has it she disappeared. Everyone one of us just guessed that she and her family moved onto bigger and better things. The parents where Mr Dickinson operated absolutely loved him and how he was to the kids. He usually kept his distance but whenever I was at the truck he would become a lot more affectionate. He would sometimes touch my hair repeatedly, even at times come out of the truck and ask me to sit on his lap while he gave me my favorite ice cream sandwich. I never questioned it because I just assumed I was his favorite. My thoughts were confirmed when he told me personally that I was his favorite child. Everyone wanted to be his favorite because they would have the luxury of cheaper ice cream and get a rare taste of his mystery flavor. One day I was on my bicycle and Mr. Dickson was finishing his rounds, he called me over and I sped over to his truck. He told me that he had a special surprise for me in the back of this vehicle. Being the little kid that I was, and knowing that I was his favorite, a rush like something I never felt before went right through me. I hopped into his van faster than a convicted felon fleeing prison in his getaway car. Inside the van he told me that I would get a taste of his special mystery flavor. Mr Dickerson noticed that I was little sweaty and dirty from my bicycle adventures, so he licked his thumb and wiped a smudge of dirt from my face. His hands were big and strong, so strong that my head moved a bit when he touched me. He said softly that he hated seeing me dirty and that I should clean myself. "Your skin is so soft" as he continued before I was called back into the house for dinner and ran from the truck excited. In one week I was finally going to get a taste of the enigmatic special flavor that one kid before me ever had the privilege of touching her taste buds. Fast forward a week and the big day came. My body was ready, my mouth was salivating, and my taste screaming. I saw Mr Dickerson's truck and rushed there. It was like any other day, except this day was going to be special. Things went as usual, the music blasted, kids happy, the parents watching and talking about adult things no one gave a shit about. I waited until everyone was gone and his run almost over. Dusk came. It was calm and quiet, now was the time to get a taste of that special flavor. He waved and signaled for me to come over, I was so ecstatic. I hopped into the back of his ice cream truck. "You look very nice today, I like you clean and smelling like Febreze vanilla & cream. How did he know what fabric softener I used? The scent of lush fruit, warm cinnamon, and classic vanilla. That was when I knew this was destiny. "Are you ready?" He asked with a smile. "Yes please I want it so bad" I replied quickly. Mr. Dickerson later took out what I had been waiting my entire life for. The special mystery flavor, looked like sherbet. It was pink and yellow. My heart was pounding, head sweating, fingers shaking I did not know how to handle this. He took out a spoon and got a good scoop of the prophesied mystery flavor. He looked excited, probably from seeing the joy on my innocent face. Open your mouth he told me, I opened and he inserted the spoon slowly. I closed my mouth and got a good taste of the mystery flavor. It tasted funny, but practically orgasmic. This was, the fucking best ice cream....I ever had. Mr Dickerson looked almost as if he was hypnotized by the sight of me eating the ice cream. That's it, this time with slow breathes as he said it. He slowly took the spoon from my mouth and said there was more where that came from. Then everything went blank. I don't know how long I was out of it, but the next thing I knew I woke up naked in a bathtub. It was very clean, with the scent of lush fruit, warm cinnamon, and classic vanilla amazingly. I did not know where on earth my clothes were and my body felt extremely weird. My mouth was sore, some scratch marks on my skin, and my rear feeling like someone shoved corn on the cob up my ass. I was weak and still a bit dizzy. Mr Dickerson came into the bathroom, I asked him what happened and he said sss hsshshshshshs as put proceeded to put his hand on my head, and start cleaning my hair. "I don’t like it when you're dirty, we need to clean you up for your parents." I went in and out and it was a constant battle for me to keep my eyes open. Then somehow I woke up in front of my house. I had no recollection of how I got back there. I went inside my house and was asked how my day was. I had no idea what the hell happened so i said I met little grey men. They laughed and continued on with their business. As time went on, Mr. Dickerson continued to come to our neighborhood, but my desire for ice cream went down and no had interest. Eventually Mr. Dickerson left the area and things finally started to make sense a few years ago, when I came to the realization that I had sexual intercourse with him. To make matters worse, I learned that the first girl who experienced the mystery flavor many years later killed herself along with her husband, the 5 children, and pet dog. The poor dog. I didn't kill myself obviously because I'm talking to you now and suicide is retarded. My parents were contacted by the cops as it turned out Mr Dickerson was a serial child rapist. I went into his truck a delicate flower....then left with my innocence ruptured. I was nothing more to him than a soft purely untainted child he wanted to viciously deflower. I lost my virginity to him at the age of 9 and I didn't even remember. This is sex? This what everyone hypes up and want so much? Every now and then it comes back in flashes, most of I cant make out at times. Where is Mr. Dickerson now? He's obviously old as hell, but I imagine he's still trying to spread the ass cheeks of another kid. As for me? Im still trying to erase these memories.....I just want them to go away.
