My parents named our huge Victorian house in Mt. Griffin "Bryerwood" as if it was some mansion – which it sort of kind of was – a large estate on a larger piece of property. Both my parents were professional people who travelled a lot. My older siblings were out of the house by the time I was ten and our housekeeper, Mrs. Calhoon, finally decided to retire in her late 60s not long after I was basically left on my own. Mrs. C. was the only nanny/maid/cook I had known so it took some getting used to when my mother hired "Doris", a woman in her late 30s with a border-line special needs daughter around my age named Theresa, but her mom called her Twinkle "because she's the twinkle in my eye".

I didn't know Doris' story – where she came from, what happened to her husband, how my mother found her, and I didn't ask because I really didn't care. Doris and her daughter moved into Mrs. Calhoon's vacated first floor room behind the kitchen. Doris was a change from the grandmotherly Mrs. Calhoun with her nylon stockings and blue gray hair. Doris was younger, obviously, and much more professional and detached than Mrs. Calhoon had been. Doris concentrated on her job responsibilities, always making sure the house was clean and the meals prepared. She said I was old enough to look after myself and that I didn't need her being my nursemaid all the time. I wasn't about to argue with her!

I liked my independence and I spent most of my time in my room or in the large "playroom" on the third floor reading books or goofing off on the computer. Twinkle was an odd kid who didn't talk much. Doris told me that Twinkle was "special" and it didn't take me long to figure out that what Doris really meant was 'special needs'. Maybe borderline autism or Asperger's – I wasn't sure and Doris never qualified what Twinkle's issues were.

There were things about Twinkle that weren't exactly normal. She'd smile constantly, almost as if that was her default look. She rarely made eye contact – always looking off in the distance, or over your shoulder, or down at the floor. She didn't talk much and she didn't like leaving the house. Doris homeschooled her but Twinkle struck me as unusually smart. She was artistic – often seated at the kitchen table drawing and painting. I saw her with a guitar a couple of times. Twinkle was pretty enough though she wore plain clothes and no makeup. Her brown hair was long, over her shoulders.

On the rare occasions when I chatted with her, I noticed that Twinkle's radar was just a little bit off, like she was on her own wave length sometimes She wasn't very good at interpreting body language or facial expressions. She didn't get humor or sarcasm and she took thinks literally, like Spock or Data on Star Trek. She was amazingly naïve – I could tell her anything and she'd believe me. She was often fidgety, her legs moving up and down when she was sitting or she'd rock on the balls of her feet when she was standing still. She didn't like noise – she'd freak out if it thundered or if someone was playing music or the television too loud. She was weird about general appropriate behavior. She'd fart openly and without embarrassment, for example. Sometimes she'd talk to herself or she'd talk in the third person. She was a noticeable neat freak.

I felt sorry for Twinkle so I started inviting her to join me in the 'playroom' – which was full of all sorts of neat stuff, including a large air hockey table, a couple of pin ball machines, a ping pong table, and endless computer games. I didn't mind having somebody I could partner up with when my friend Markus wasn't around so I brought Twinkle up to the playroom quite frequently.

"Twinkle likes it here," she told me after I brought her to the playroom for the first time.

Twinkle had a submissive role with me. I was the rich kid living in the expensive house and she was the hired help's 'special' kid so she did what I asked without complaint. Turns out she was pretty good with most of the games which helped my competitive skills even if she didn't talk much.

Eventually, I became a day student at the Sun Rise Lake School For Boys but I was home in the evenings and weekends. Twinkle had gotten used to me as a 'friend' though it really wasn't like that because we didn't interact on an equal level. I had the position and the power. I wouldn't call Twinkle my slave but I told her what to do and she never complained, protested or refused my requests. I'd send her down to the kitchen to get me snacks and sodas. I'd make her watch what I wanted on the television. I suppose I was kind of a jerk but I was a spoiled self-absorbed brat who could get away with it.

Twinkle changed in her physical appearance as time went by. Although she was still flakey mentally and emotionally, she had physically matured into an attractive teenager and it was easy for me to notice her shapely body as I morphed into the typical horny hormonal male moron. I would be easy for me to take advantage of that reality, and so I did.

There was a bathroom off the playroom which was convenient and I often went in there to take a leak when Twinkle and I were up on the third floor. One day I went in there to piss and I decided to have Twinkle go in there with me. She didn't protest when I took my wiener out to relief myself and I watched her watching me.

"Why don't you hold it?" I tested, assuming she wouldn't be willing to cross that boundary.

"Twinkle never see this before," she said as she reached her hand out and held my penis in her hand, almost causing me to piss all over the floor.

We stood there watching my urine flow like a sprinkler into the toilet bowl. I have no idea why I made her do that – I guess it was because I could get away with it. That's when I realized that Twinkle really was there for my calling and that I could pretty much do what I wanted with her. I was intrigued by the free will I held over her.

Twinkle didn't act any differently after she held my wiener that day. Maybe she thought it was completely normal and acceptable given her weird tendencies. She still ripped off loud and long farts without thinking twice and nobody ever said anything to her about it, like "Hey, that's rude you know".

One day, Twinkle and I were sitting on the couch in the playroom. It kind of felt stupid calling the place a playroom at our age so I now referred to it as the third floor. Doris had gone off to do the grocery shopping so Twinkle and I were alone. I couldn't help but think how pretty Twinkle was even though she was weird too. On a total whim, I leaned over and kissed her and she didn't say anything. Then she kissed me back which was encouragingly nice. We kissed for a little while and then a perverted thought rolled into my head.

"Hey, why don't we get naked?" I suggested, not really thinking she'd do it that easily.

But, because Twinkle took things literally and was naïve about stuff, she stood from the couch and effortlessly undressed. I felt guilty, of course, for taking advantage of her so easily but she was a very pretty girl and I stared with amazement at her lovely breasts, brown hairy muff, and curvy rear end.

"You too," she said.

So I got naked and I rubbed my erection against her leg which was okay with her.

"You look nice," she observed.

I wrapped her in a hug and held on to her tight, feeling as though we were sharing something special even if it was perverted.

"Lay down on the floor," I said and Twinkle did what I asked, but for some reason she laid on her stomach instead of on her back and I stared at her rear with appreciation, but then I thought about her farting tendencies, so I told her roll over which she did and I stared at her lips protruding out of her pubic hair.

Twinkle had her usual weird smile on her face as she stared up at me. I must have looked silly with my erection flapping above her but I liked the feeling it gave me. I had never seen myself get so hard before.

"Don't forget, Twinkle, this stuff is our own little secret," I said. "It's not something we talk about with others, okay?"

"We don't talk about this with others," she confirmed.

Sure, I was a sick bastard but I was fifteen years old experimenting with a willing participant. Maybe she didn't have the capacity to know right from wrong or she thought what we were doing was perfectly normal and maybe I was a slime ball for taking advantage of her in such a disgusting way but that wasn't going to stop me.

I lay on the floor next to her and put my head on her stomach, looking back and forth between her eye level breasts and her hairy muff. I reached my hand out and felt her pubic hair and then her warm moistness between her legs. I was overcome by an immense curiosity, but my curiosity seeing for the first time in my life all of a woman's charms while exposing my own manhood to one

I marveled at her nakedness while rubbing my finger along her stomach, breasts, and pubic hair, an experience completely new to me. The wonderment of her hairy covering to her secret lips with its inner flaps starting to swell fascinated me but then I heard Doris' car in the driveway so I hopped up off the floor and told Twinkle to get dressed.

"You too," she said.

And so I did.

I was nervous for the next few days fearing Twinkle might inadvertently say something and get me busted but nothing changed and I kept thinking about our little naked secret, wondering if I could get away with doing it again.

Twinkle very rarely left the house. She didn't like the hustle and bustle of the outside world and she felt secure, safe and comfortable in the confines of Bryerwood. Doris didn't leave that often either since her job was taking care of the house and cooking meals so there wasn't a lot of opportunities for me to play my perverted sick naked games with the willing Twinkle. But we kept playing the computer games and other normal activities on the third floor although I found myself fantasizing about seeing Twinkle naked again because I was such a sick bastard.

Nobody knew I was a sick bastard, of course. I was well behaved at Sun Rise School for Boys though I laughed to myself when I listened to some of my school pals bullshitting about their conquests with girls. I resisted the urge to brag that I had a girl who would get naked with me without complaint and I couldn't wait for my next opportunity to be naked with her.