the piano tuner

The piano tuner there used to be a greengrocer on the ground floor except for potatoes, there was not much call for  another vegetable, the shop closed a piano tuner rented the space and partly white-washed the windows he didn't like to be seen by passers-by  I sat on the gate into our yard pretending to be a cowboy  when he asked me to help him in the shop, yes, I was glad  to help got boring being a cowboy He sat me on a piano stool, opened up my fly, began playing with my innocent , with his right hand he wanked himself, I was too petrified in fear I didn't run away; when he ejaculated, he dried himself with a hanky in his pocket and, in a brusque manner, told me to leave Outside, it took me a while to realize this man was a pig but I was too ashamed to tell anyone and instead went up to our flat opened a book by Robert Louis Stevenson and began reading about islands and bright light