It's a Hard Life: Chapter 1
From Storieswiki.org
Living in poor conditions was never easy when I was young. My dad worked in a coal mine to support mom, myself and my six sisters.
We were a big family, a big poor family. My dad had migrated from the old country and had followed the chance of work to this isolated place, far from any kind of civilization except the other miner's little cabins, which were owned by the mining company.
To say poor living is what our condition was would be an understatement. The miner's wages were pitiful, and, in the middle of an unending recession, it was hard if not impossible to find any other kind of work. Leaving was impossible, mostly due to the lack of money, all that my dad made was spent on food and some scraps for clothes. We were close to starving. The company kept laying off people when demand was low, then rehiring them when they got a large order, so asking for more money was pointless; dad was the mining company's slave.
So we were basically barely living, mostly from the lack of death. And death is what struck when I was still fourteen years old.
It was an explosion at the mine that took my dad away from us, along with any source of income. My father had no insurance - all his earnings went literally from hand to mouth. The little compensation package that the mining company gave us was only enough to keep us alive and fed for no more than three weeks.
Thus, at the age of fourteen I was forced to go to work in the mine to feed my family. My family, my responsibility. A fact I was reminded of many times right after the accident, during the funeral and for a while after. Everybody was reminding me of that little fact.
One thing was easier, finding a job. Since my dad was killed in the mine, the company obviously felt some obligation to give me his job as part of the compensation package, that way we wouldn't starve to death.
I soon became used to working in the mine. Missing school wasn't much of a problem since there was no significant schooling to talk of. So, day after day, I went to work, shoveling coal, morning 'til night, or night 'til morning, depending on my shift. I woke up early, left early, worked long hours and came back home, showered, ate, and went to bed and slept from exhaustion.
In four words - boring exhausting, hard life.
I felt miserable.
I kept wondering how most of the men working around me seemed to be taking it so well. There seemed to be no end in sight and no hope of anything improving. Ever.
However, six weeks into my new life of slavery I was living, I started getting the hang of things. I started making friends among the men. We all shared the same desperate conditions and everybody was basically feeling the same thing.
After a while I started getting more into the conversations. Conversations about everybody else's life, and I started learning stuff, deep stuff, important stuff.
I learned about how great it is to go home to a loving appreciative wife who considered it her job to take care of the family. For other men, being the head of the family meant they got the most care. Their wives, knowing how hard their men's day had been, did everything possible to make them as comfortable as could be to help them recover from the day's rigors and forget their misery so they could continue to support their families.
I also learned that there is more to life, especially for married people, than just going to work and coming back to bed to sleep. I suddenly found out about something that was never mentioned in our house: Sex!
My dad had never given me any hints about what awaits me as my body developed; mom neither. I was clueless about all the feelings that I was having.
I learned how most of the men around me during the day would go home to their wives, where they get to enjoy themselves. They would go home and do something other than chores. Actually they didn’t do any chores. They considered working at the mine earning a living for their families their only duty. They didn't do any more work than that. They’d go home and get pampered - as much as a poor miner can get pampered. They’d get some entertainment from their wives and they’d do the same for those wives. I learned that it was a mutual thing, that not only men needed the entertainment to make their lives easier; their wives needed it as much.
Bit by bit I learned that I was the only one in the whole group that was suffering the way I was. I was the only one with no balancing side to my life.
I wanted the kind of life those men were living. I wanted some joy in my life and I set out to change things.
I didn't do anything drastic.
I started observing my family's life, especially my mother's. It dawned on me that she too was living a harder life now that my dad was gone; she too missed the companionship and comfort that a partner brings.
However being a growing fourteen year old with raging hormones, I had understood mostly one thing from all those conversations - that men and women needed sex to keep their sanity.
And sane I wanted to stay.
One of the first lessons I learned in the mine was about masturbation. Yep I know, nobody had told me about it before. Neither of my two friends knew about it so why should I? I started thinking there was a conspiracy going on to keep us kids in the dark.
One day I was eating during the lunch break and the guys started making fun of me.
"I bet he chokes the chicken every night in bed" said Ed to Joe and they both laughed looking at me.
Ed was 22, already married with one kid. Joe was 35 with eight kids.
"Choking the Chicken? We don't have any chickens at home. And if we did, why would I wanna choke one?" I said.
That only made them laugh so much harder that tears started washing the black dust off their faces.
"That's the best joke I've heard all month" said Joe "This kid is funny, you take after your dad boy."
"What joke? What’s so funny?"
All I got was more laughter. I started feeling stupid.
"You mean to tell me that you've never jerked off before?" said Ed.
"Jerked off? What’s that?"
"Boy you're hopeless. You sure you don't know?" said Joe
"Ok, ok, don't worry about it," said Ed, "I'll tell you what somebody should have told you by now. Jerking off is a way to get relief until you start getting laid. You do it by holding your dick and moving the skin up and down until it feels really good. That's it."
"Why would I wanna do that for?"
"Trust me, try it once and then you'll know"
That night I went to bed thinking about what Ed had said. Deciding that there was nothing to lose, I pulled down my sleeping shorts, took hold of my dick and started moving the skin up and down to uncover and recover the head. It felt good, but nothing spectacular. For the last couple of years, holding my dick always felt good, but I never thought of actually rubbing it; strange, I now know.
So I kept doing it until a couple of minutes later a funny feeling started in my balls.
I started getting scared but I didn't stop. A minute later, the feeling got stronger, so I tried to stop but something kept pushing me to keep on going. A minute later I felt a strong tightening in my stomach muscles and the most awesome sensation I've ever felt washed over me. Spasms kept coming and it seemed that the more I kept moving my hand the more the sensation kept coming stronger and stronger. However, about twenty seconds later the sensation became unbearable and I had to let go.
The experience left me breathless and only after I stopped I realized that I'd been holding my breath. Letting go of my dick I felt something wet. Pushing the covers down, I pulled my hand toward my nose and took a sniff, not bad, not the greatest smell but not the worst either. I thought that I had pissed on my hand but the stuff was slimy compared to piss. I had to get up and go to the bathroom to clean up.
That night I slept a different kind of sleep, I even woke up with a nice dream.
Getting out of bed I felt different, there was a weird relaxed feeling in my muscles I've never felt before. I was also smiling. I had no reason to smile, but still I was smiling. It was weird, I could not stop smiling.
That morning I saw my mother in a different light. For the first time ever in my life I noticed how her breasts moved under her house dress. They were quite large and swayed slightly under her clothes with every movement she made while preparing breakfast.
I just sat there, waiting for breakfast watching her every move. Soon she noticed that and my smile also.
"You look cheery today! Anything I should know about?"
"No, nothing. For some reason I feel good today."
"Great, I like seeing your smiling face. You look much better when you smile."
"Yeah, I feel better too."
"Honey, time is getting late, you should start your chores so you'll be finished before you go to work."
"No."
"No?"
"I don't feel like doing any chores today."
"What do you mean you're not doing any chores, who's gonna do them."
"I don't know, not me, that’s for sure. I work all week under ground, I don't see any of you helping me there, why should I help you do your part of the job? When dad was still alive he didn't have any chores to do around the house."
My mother's face changed expression to one of anger.
"Well he was the head of the family and he wasn’t expected to do any chores, and there was you to help me with the hard chores. If you don't help me at all I'm going to die from work, taking care of the house and all of you. Who's gonna help me with that."
I started feeling angry too. I stood up, "Well why do I have to do two jobs, I go to work like a mule at the mine and then come back here to work some more. I don't go to school; I don't have any fun, what kind of life is this?"
"I know it's hard, it's hard on all of us since the loss of your father, it's been like hell."
"I don't think it's as bad as my part." and I stormed out and ran onto the street and from there on to the field behind the neighboring houses.
I was pissed. I felt unappreciated and all alone. I was taking care of everybody's needs with no one to give me a second thought.
I wandered for a couple of hours in the bushes thinking about my life and what I could do about it. I couldn't leave them and go, I loved them and they were my family no matter how hard it was. I decided to stay and work hard but I decided that I wanted to have fun too. With that in mind I decided to stick to my decision and not do any chores and see about having some fun, I didn't know how but I'm going to.
I didn't go back home that day, I went straight to work and didn't come home till after my shift was finished which was at 11:00 in the evening.
Walking through the door, I was almost knocked over by somebody rushing to me and hugging me tight. It was my mom; she was disheveled and looking sad with streaks on her face, probably caused by her tears.
"Oh honey, you're OK! I was so worried when you didn't come back! Thank god you're OK!"
"Mom, mom, I'm fine. I just needed to clear my head. I'm just feeling a little depressed."
"I understand honey, I've been thinking about what you said and you're right. It's not fair for you to have to take care of our needs outside the house and inside the house. I guess I didn't really realize that you're a responsible man now and you're not being treated accordingly. I guess with all the responsibilities on your shoulders you get some privileges also. From now on I guess you're the man of the house and the man of the house doesn't do chores, his part is to provide for the house and that should be it."
"Thanks mom, I was thinking the same thing and I'm happy that you're not still angry with me, I guess I just needed to blow some steam and I just took it out on you."
"That's okay honey, I understand."
"I'm sorry that I didn't come back home before going to work."
For the next week I just went to work as usual and came back home. There was a slight difference however. Now I didn't do any chores and my mother was more attentive to me and treated me differently than before. Whenever I suggested something it was taken more seriously and when I asked for something I usually got it right away.
Mom even had my sisters get me stuff when I asked and I was treated like the head of the house; and a big house it was.
See, there were my mother and four older sisters, Sally who was 19 at the time then Mary 18, Joanne 16 and Jenny 15 and then there was me and my younger sisters Chris at 13 and the family's baby Wendy 11.
My mom even brought me a small tub of hot water every day to soak my tired feet after coming back from work.
