Annie Magdow, Girl Voyeur

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My name is Annie Magdow and I remember the end of my senior year at Hilldale High like it was yesterday. Graduation was still a month away but I was already feeling as free as a bird because my courses were all winding down and school was hard to take seriously anymore. Accepted at Pitt for the fall semester as well as Penn State main campus, I coasted to graduation as valedictorian of the senior class. Ever since being spelling bee champion of the six county area of NE Pennsylvania in the fifth grade I had generally been considered the smartest student in my class. The only kid that even came close was Johnny Franzen before he was electrocuted by his science fair project in tenth grade.

While Penn State had a larger student body I chose the University of Pittsburg because in addition to the college I also got a city. My parents had wanted me to go to a smaller school, but being from a small town always seemed so binding, so constraining. I didn’t want that at college too. I was a big girl, usually one of the tallest kids growing up and I matured early with big curves. The world’s vast size entranced me and I wanted to explore as much of it as possible. It just didn’t seem like a small cloistering college would be the place to start for a large girl with even larger ambitions.

I’d always been known as a free spirit and for having a mind of my own. Some people considered me a bit of a wild child, but I was definitely not. I just looked at things for myself and made up my own mind about them.

For instance, most girls thought the jocks were the coolest guys in school. I must admit I did too, when I was 13 years old and turning my attention to boys. They were the ones I swooned over. It didn’t take me long to realize that most jocks were not very interesting, just all caught up in their own macho world. Even those that were interesting, the ones that displayed any genuine curiosity about the world outside football or basketball while apart from their friends, often acted oafish and lame when together in a pack.

When it came to sex I had the same healthy curiosity that boys did, maybe more. My sex drive seemed pretty strong from early on and I certainly did not remain in the dark about it. As an avid reader, my sex education came mostly from books and a little from my parents who were quite open about it.

As a seventh grader at a junior high dance when I felt a boys cock grow hard while dancing I was intrigued. I rubbed myself against him as hard as I could to encourage it and tease him. I liked knowing I could get that response.

A few years later when I was ready to have sex I just did. I used a boy to enter womanhood every bit as much as he used me to enter manhood. Things did not go smoothly. It was the first time for both of us. Sadly, I learned first hand a short time later that the world was not fair about sex. While the boy basked in the glow of his “conquest” I was tainted as “easy”. It bothered me off and on, but people were going to think whatever they wanted. I knew who I was.

Though I’ve known Frank Applegate ever since ninth grade I must admit I never paid much attention to him until our senior year. He had always been kind of quiet and had very little time to get involved with things at school. His parents practically used him as slave labor at the Oakwood, the little motel they owned outside of town. But during our senior year he seemed to emerge into adulthood as an interesting individual. I first saw it in small things: shyly offering a unique interpretation of a poem in English class that showed genuine insight, indulging his curiosity about a complex theorem one day in physics class while most everyone else groaned, and the constant sense you got that he was smiling at the world every moment of every day. That sense of childhood wonderment that everyone seemed to grow out of, Frank Applegate seemed to grow into. Whatever it was, it generated a twinkle in his eye that rarely if ever clouded over.

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