BeachBoy.txt  1st w/ boys, uncle, girls

When I was a boy I loved to feel other boys' cocks, especially when they were
hard, and that was long before I knew what masturbation was. Soon thereafter I
was fortunate enough to enjoy some really good things with my uncle,  other
boys, and girls.

I didn't know what masturbation was, or what the word meant, until after my
uncle took me to the beach 2 or 3 times. He was married and they had three
girl-children. I must have been 11 or 12 when they moved to our city and he
took us to a great beach nearby (in southern Florida) the first time. My aunt
did not like going there because there were nude people there, which is why I
was most eager to go... I loved seeing naked men. I do not believe that my
uncle knew that when he first took us there but he must have known by the 2nd
or 3rd time. It was the 2nd or 3rd time there and I was still too shy to remove
my own swim trunks.

He was always nude, as were most of the other men on the beach. I can not
remember his daughters ever being nude, but I might be mistaken. He told me I
needed more sun lotion. He rubbed it all over my back and shoulders and then he
turns me so no one can see him rubbing the lotion on my chest and belly. His
hands are full of the stuff as he rubs it lower and lower towards my waist. His
hands on my body have given me a raging boner and I am praying that he has not
noticed it. Before I know it he slides his big oiled hand under my trunks and
wraps his big fingers around my boner. In less than ten strokes my knees went
limp and I ejaculated into his oily hand.

I'd been masturbating to orgasm and ejaculating for several months but that was
the fastest I'd ever shot my wad. It was so good because of the oil and because
it was someone else doing it to me. I'd never been masturbated by anyone
before. Even though I'd played with other boys' boners for several years, I'd
never made them ejaculate.

Later that day we went for a walk and he let me oil and pull his huge erection
until he ejaculated all over my chest. Then on I went with him to the beach
each time he asked.

I am sure boys do things with other boys because it feels so good and because
they do not have the chance to do it with girls. Most girls are not so bold as
to enjoy sexual things, although one of my older girl-cousins was very
knowledgeable and bold enough to suggest that we do some things. It was over
the Christmas holiday while she was staying at our house. I was in the 6th
grade and she was in the 7th grade. We didn't have any intercourse, but I found
it most interesting to inspect her very close-up. She showed me how she
enjoying rubbing herself, but I do not think she really enjoyed it when I tried
to do it to her. In other words, I am almost sure she did not have an orgasm.
We were only able to play with each other those two evenings and we were both
very tense, we knew we were being very naughty. I did enjoy it much more the
second evening and I did ejaculate, what a mess!

Both times we were in our attic, after we were sure everyone was asleep, and we
hadn't brought any tissues with. She had to sneak back downstairs and bring
some up. I think she knew as much as she did because her mother was nurse. She
told me many things about our body parts and sex during those two evenings, but
it was all so foreign to me, I'm sure I retained very little of what she
explained. I do remember her telling me that I could make her pregnant ("have a
baby") and that we should not therefore really do "it". She had more pubic hair
than I, but I had some. And I was proud of that because very few of the other
boys in the 6th grade had any, or they had so little that it could almost not
be seen.

Most of us went to the local municipal pool often, so most of us knew who had
what. I told her about the nude beach and I hoped that she would want to go,
but she made it very clear that she would never be allowed to do that. I did
not tell her about my father's brother and what we really did there. She was,
and still is, an only child and she stayed with us again over the New Year.

We talked by phone several times between Christmas and the New Year, and I
tried to tell her that I loved her, I told her that I wanted to give her a
ring. She was very nice about telling me that I was just being silly and that
what we had done was not "serious enough" for that. We did agree that we liked
each other and that we had to find more time during the New Year holiday to do
more. She promised to bring an interesting book, and she did.

It was titled, I think, The Encyclopedia of Sex. She tried to show me some of
the pictures and drawings, but I was already naked and I wanted her to get
naked. I really wasn't very interested in her book. I had a raging boner, she
was trying to tell me about all the things she'd learned from that damn book,
and then I heard her say "oral sex." I asked her what THAT was and she told me
that she'd show me. To make a short story even shorter, she wasn't very good at
it (but I didn't know any better at the time) and I think she used her hand
more than she used her mouth but it sure was good and it didn't take very long
at all (no, she did not take my ejaculate into her mouth, she stopped just
before I exploded and we were prepared this time with an entire box of
tissues).

Then she told me that she wanted me to do that to her, and I flipped my lid and
told her that would be impossible. I couldn't stop laughing, didn't she know
that she didn't have a boner! (Since then we have talked about that evening,
and my stupid question, many times. We are still the best of friends.) Then I
told her about JO-ing with my uncle, and she suggested that he would be able to
do oral sex for me much better than she could. I told her I could never ask him
to do that, and she said that I should at least ask him if he knew what it was.


Then she got down on her back, raised her knees, opened her legs, and showed me
her clitoris. She called it her "little penis" and told me about how she and
one of her girlfriends, who was 2 years older, did oral sex for each other. She
promised to guide my head and that I was to start by kissing it very softly,
and then to use my tongue up and down between her labia. I can't say I liked it
much (not that first time), but she did, and she did have an orgasm... of that
I am very sure! I know she pulled some hair out of my head. There were times I
couldn't breath and I didn't like the hairs between my teeth. But she went wild
and almost crazy very quickly and she was much too loud about it all. I was
sure my parents had heard her moans groaning at the end, and I was terrified. I
put my hand over her mouth and forced us both to remain silent for what seemed
like an eternity. The beating of my heart could be heard downstairs, I was
sure.

After we both felt secure again, I asked her about us having intercourse (that
was not the word I used) and she told me NEVER to use that F-word again, that
it was "indecent" and that I should never-ever say that word to a girl ever
again. I insisted that I wanted to know what it felt like and I asked her many
times if she'd ever done it. I wanted her to tell me that she had. I wanted her
to tell me that she liked it. I wanted to know that she did... and that we
might be able to do it sometime. I actually felt there was a good possibility
that I'd go to my grave without EVER knowing what F--king was really like.

In my young and ignorant mind [at that time! :-)], I was convinced that real
sex was intercourse, and that anything else, including what my uncle and I had
enjoyed, was not the real thing. I didn't know any boy who was not hung-up on
"the real thing" and who did not spend a great deal of time thinking, talking,
and boasting about it. To say it was our preoccupation, is the understatement
of all time. I even went so low as to ask her if her older girlfriend had ever
done "it" and if I might be able to meet her older girlfriend sometime. And
that really upset Carol! I was sure our relationship was over, right then and
there. But we talked some more, that is to say, she talked some more and I
listened.

Then she found an old fur coat and spread it on the floor, fur-side-up, and
told me to get down on it on my belly, butt-side-up. The very second my prick
made contact with that thick warm fur, my boner was instant. She kneeled beside
me, put her hands on my buttocks and made me do thrusting movements into that
fur. I had had orgasms before, and I well knew when they were imminent, but I
must admit that I was experiencing then, a build-up more powerful than I'd ever
felt before. I was like an animal, all I could think of was that I was on a
horse and running the fastest race of my life. Soon I was no longer even aware
of Carol's hands on my buttocks, forcing the race higher and and lower and to
faster speeds. It was even better than the first time my uncle did it with his
big oiled hand. I'm sure I lost my mind, everything went black as the entire
attic spun out of control, as I exploded everything within me into that hot
fur.

As I look back on that now, and the first time I experienced real oral sex and
my first orgasm from oral sex with my uncle (and my first orgasm while having
real intercourse with Carol, and my first orgasm while having anal intercourse
with my uncle), it seems clear that I've enjoyed much more exciting, much
better and more rewarding, sexual encounters... but it also seems to me that
the first orgasms during childhood are THE most intense.

I now have no idea how old I was when I first started playing with my prick
(and, from what I've learned since, it might well have been before I was
born... doctors have seen boys, while still in the womb, with erections!), but
I know that I enjoyed feeling my prick and making it hard long before I had my
first ejaculation. I'm sure I had orgasms from it and I remember that I would
sleep much better after doing it, even as late as the 5th grade.

It was during the first few weeks of summer between 5th and 6th grades that I
came for the very first time. It was far more frightening than enjoyable, I was
sure I'd broken or ruptured something very  vital deep inside me, and that it
had now shot out all over my face and belly. Very intense, perhaps the most
intense, but hardly the most enjoyable! I would say that I was scared out of my
pants, expect for the fact that I wasn't wearing any at the time.


I can recall playing with my boner while in the 5th grade, and just pulling the
bottoms of my PJs down. The first time I pulled them ALL THE WAY off, while
under the sheet, I really felt bold and very wicked. And now, as I look back,
doing some really stupid things... like strutting around my bedroom, while
stark naked and with a flaming hard boner, and no lock on my bedroom door! It
is really strange how one thing brings another thing to mind, that I haven't
thought about in so long I can't remember when. I remember telling my Dad that
I wanted a lock on my bedroom door. Mom said I was being foolish. Dad, I'm
sure, understood (but, thank his goodness, he did not make it obvious to me at
the time). I would have been mortified to know that he knew what I was doing
with myself while in bed!

I remember feeling so very eager while he drove me to the hardware store. I
think it was perhaps the first time I felt like a man, doing a manly thing,
with another man. We didn't talk, we just went in, looked around, and he made
the selection. Then, back home, he told me which tools we'd need and he showed
me how to do it.

After I had the lock on the door, I went to bed each night buck-naked... it was
the most exciting thing in my life (until that day on the beach with my uncle).
I'd dwell on the big men I'd seen naked at the pool, and I'd often try to
picture what older girls, with breasts, really looked like naked.

A boy I knew had a copy of a Playboy magazine, he kept it hidden in their
garage, and he would sometimes let me look at it (while we played with each
other). I just loved the feeling of his hard little boner in my hands and his
hands on mine. I would sometimes think about touching real breasts and feeling
what they felt like,  but most of the time I would just wonder what the breasts
of older girls looked like. The women in the pictures were stunning, and very
exciting to see, but they were not real for me like the older girls I'd seen at
the pool.

Frank would talk about the women in his magazine like they were real people, he
knew all their names and other vital information by-heart. He also (over-)used
the word "Fuck" and was always talking about how he would really like to fuck
some of the women in his magazine, and about how he might not want to fuck some
of the others.

I lost track of him after high school, but I suspect that he still thinks that
fucking is something that one person does to another, and that he still has not
learned that fucking is something two people do and enjoy with each other. But
I am getting ahead of myself, I need to finish telling you about the New Year
holiday with Carol.

After I'd made that sticky mess on that old fur coat, Carol had the sense to
try to clean it up (but most of it seemed to stay). I was utterly exhausted and
she had to help me down to my bedroom. I tried to tell her that I really just
wanted to sleep right there, on that big and soft fur coat in the attic, but
she wouldn't hear of it. She even threatened me with what my parents would say
if they learned that I'd slept there, and that we might not ever be able to do
things up there again. Carol was still worried sick about the mess I'd made
into that old fur coat and I tried to tell her that my mother hadn't worn it
since we moved down here from NYC years ago, and that she'd never wear it again
anyway. I was not really all that sure myself, but I wanted to make her feel
better.

The next night she did not bring her damn book (thank goodness!), but she did
bring a pair of her very soft white socks and several rubber bands (later I
learned that she had not invented this trick, but that her older girlfriend had
told her about it... in the meantime I was very impressed). We put the big fur
coat down  on the floor, and we got down side by side.

When she was flat on her back, her small breasts all but disappeared, but I
liked the feeling of fingering her nipples, especially as they got bigger and
harder. Then she asked me to kiss them, and then to suck on them a little
harder. Just as I was really starting to enjoy it, and moving my pelvis back
and forth on the fur again, she told me to stop.

That was when she showed me how to put one of her soft white socks over my
boner and balls, and she kept it in place with a couple of the rubber bands. I
felt very awkward while she did that to me, but it actually felt good after she
had everything in place. I think it made my boner even harder. Then she got
back down on her back, told me to lay down on my belly between her legs, and
pulled my mouth to her vulva.

I don't know who started reaching the top of the hill first, but the faster she
moved my head between her thighs, the harder I fucked that fur coat with my
cock wrapped in her sock. And then we both went nuts at about the same time
(she held the other sock over her mouth). The entire house could have exploded,
and I wouldn't have known the difference.

I felt more "romantic" afterwards (and she later said she was feeling the same
way) than I'd ever felt before. I just wanted to stay right there, and cuddle
with her forever. I don't know how else to say it, I wanted to sleep with her
in my arms. I can not say with mere words how I felt the next day, nor can I
begin to describe the dream-world I was in. The flashbacks started at the
breakfast table. Right there, under the table, my prick was playing tricks on
me... it had no shame. And no respect for the fact that my folks were right
there.

They left home early to celebrate the New Year,  so we were able to enjoy an
early start also (this would be her last evening at our home, and we had no
idea when we might be able to see each other again). We moved some boxes to
make a larger clearing, and we did it right. We moved an old queen size
mattress into position, Carol brought up some Cokes and snacks, I brought up
all the pillows I could gather and biggest and softest blanket I could find. We
put a large board in the middle, and that was our table. We talked about
candles, but decided that would not be safe, so back down I went for a night
light and Carol brought up her portable stereo. We didn't get undressed right
away, we sat and talked for the longest time.

She told me all about her older girlfriend, who lived next door to her, and all
about the hardcore 8mm films they'd seen. Most of them were of men and women,
but some were of women and women (now I knew that she didn't get all her
"expertise" from that damn book!). She'd never seen any man-man films, so she
wanted to know all about everything I'd ever done with other boys and my uncle.


I couldn't really tell her much about other boys and me because all we'd ever
really done was feel each other and play with each other's boners. I did tell
her all about the beach and my uncle of course, and I told her about how I'd
often dreamed about being able to sneak into the women's shower at the pool.
And I spent the longest time telling her about all the big men I'd seen. She
asked why I seemed to be more turned-on while I was telling her about the men,
than while I was telling her about the older girls and women with big breasts
at the pool and the women in Frank's Playboy (she was watching my crotch).

I told her something about how she was really the first girl I'd ever actually
done anything with (the girlfriends I had in the 5th and 6th grade did not
really count, because all we'd ever done was peek and kiss a few times... and
the girl in 4th grade who let me see her naked would not let me look real close
or touch her... and none of the girls had ever been interested in feeling my
boner) and that my guess was that boys were just much more interested in sex
than girls.

It was really very simple: boys were always talking about it and they were
always wanting to do it... even if it was only with other boys. I told her that
fingers wrapped around my boner felt good and that fingers were fingers. I told
her that girls really didn't have anything I could play with (not young girls
anyway) and that I loved sexual excitement. I knew about boners and I loved
looking at adult men with really big cocks... bigger was better in my eyes in
those days.

I no longer like really huge breasts on women (I like them small, firm, and
hard... with big nipples that really stick out!), but I still prefer other guys
with good bods and who are into the same sports I like (the size doesn't count
for much, if anything).  I just feel most comfortable being with other guys
(and gals) who have no doubts about themselves. I don't call myself a
"bisexual"... I just say that I'm very sexual.

Besides, sex is no longer something I can't have (I'll be 19 in 5 months), and
it no longer seems to rule my every waking moment. Riding (horses and
motorcycles) and playing a good hard game of football can often be almost as
good as sex (in a different way of course). I haven't had much time for
basketball these last few months, I've spent all available time getting my
little sailboat refinished. I also had to rebuild the engine in my 911 (for the
second time in 3 years!). Back to Carol.

She asked me if I'd every actually done anything with another adult (male or
female), and I had to admit I hadn't, and that I didn't think it possible,
especially with an adult female... they seemed so very out of reach in those
days, and I wasn't about to live my life dreaming like Frank did... I wanted to
do things, everything, anything, now. I asked her several times if she'd ever
done anything with another boy or man, but she refused to say.

By the time we went to bed (each to our own) we'd gone through 2 pairs of
socks... it was just so much better on that mattress, and we felt safe making
all the noise we wanted (we knew my parents wouldn't be home for hours). The
best time was the 2nd time, while we were listening to the soundtrack from
Chariots of Fire by Vangelis (I still like it in the background).

That music, I am sure, will always be very meaningful to us (I've had it on
while typing this). I was also much better at doing her with my mouth, and at
doing what felt good for her. it wasn't until I was 15 or 16 that we were able
to have real intercourse.

She was staying at our house again, she brought the condoms, and I didn't mind
using them (better than a sock anyday). It was so very good. I'd done it a
little once  or twice before then (I was about 14) with one of the girls who
was my age and lived on our street. But it didn't work out very well and I
think we really did it only so that we could say we had. She wasn't even my
girlfriend, but we were very close and we could talk to each other for hours.
Maybe another thing that made it work so well for us (except for the actual
intercourse, we loved doing oral sex to each other, and we were both very good
at it by them) was that she had her own dirt bike (motorcycle) and her own
shotgun. I'd hate to count all the clay pigeons we wasted!

Usually we'd head back into the hills where we could shoot. We always had a
blanket... and sometimes we didn't even bother to take our shotguns. We were
fortunate, as I'm now aware, most of the other kids we knew didn't have that
freedom... they just didn't have much chance to be alone with anyone, in a safe
and secure place, where they could be comfortable.

Like idiots we wrote notes to each other, and her mother found one of mine that
was very explicit. She called by phone to warn me, but I knew I couldn't stay
away. I had to face them somehow. The next day I went round and her father
called me into the basement. He didn't say much. He placed a 12ga. shell on the
workbench and told me that it had my name on it, and that he would use it if
his Tracy ever got pregnant. I almost shit my pants. I couldn't even talk. I
knew him, and I believed him. Then he told me I could go.

We did continue to be close friends, but it was several months before we felt
we could go off by ourselves riding again. The very strange thing was this:
before that happened, her mother thought the world of me and she was always
more than warm. But her father seldom spoke to me and I always had the feeling
that he didn't like me. After that terror in the basement, she seemed very
distant (and she still seems that way today). But her father has since always
gone out of his way to talk with me, and even ask advice. I still can't figure
it.

Back to the New Year holiday with Carol. Within days of her leaving, I asked my
uncle about oral sex (I didn't tell him that I wanted to do it), and I told him
all about our evenings in the attic (only because he wanted to know
everything). It was on a Sunday afternoon, we were on the beach and both of us
were buck-naked. I got a boner just  telling him about it (it really didn't
take much in those days, seems like I had them every day and almost all day
long). It wasn't really warm, but the sun was out and it was very nice (when we
stayed out of the wind).

He then suggested that we take a walk back in the hills, where other men often
went, to "see what we could see" as he put it. We hid behind some bushes and I
sure got my eyes full that afternoon. I had no idea so much sex was going on
back on those trails. And I'm not talking about just 2 guys doing each other,
sometimes there were 3 and 4 in one group all sucking each other. I could not
stop myself, I asked him if he would do that to me.

We went back and got our blanket, and then went real far back where most other
guys seldom went... and he gave me the best blow job of my life. He could get
EVERYTHING in his mouth... my boner, balls and all at once... and he kept them
all deep in his mouth while I blew my load. It was the best cum I'd ever had,
that old sock was nothing compared to this! I never knew anything could be so
good (but then, that was also how I felt the first time Carol and I had real
intercourse several years later).

A few days later, while we were working on his boat, he asked me what I knew
about anal sex. I told him that I knew all about it, but that I'd never done it
with anyone (and half of that was true). He just smiled and asked me to join
him below. Then he told me that it was always best to take a couple small
enemas, to make things clean, and to use KY, and not vaseline. I got a raging
boner just watching him do those enemas.

Then we went forward to where they had the big bed. While on his belly he asked
me to work several fingers-full deep inside (and that was a real trip all by
itself). My boner was literally jumping while he smeared KY all up and down it.
I won't tell you that laying on top of his was much better than that old rug,
because you know it was.

Entering someone is also something that I can't put into words. It was just
incredible. With all respect due my uncle, I'd never ridden anything so fast
and hard and good.

We lay there for the longest time and he told me many things about how I might
have a friend my own age, who might be more my own size, and who might be able
to do me good. When he asked me if I was ready to do it again, he didn't have
to ask me twice.

He asked me if I'd reach under and hold him while I was riding him his time. I
felt like a selfish fool for not thinking of it myself the first time...
perhaps I was just too excited. He was so big and hard, I had to grasp his huge
cock with both hands. It really was better the second time around, I knew
better what to do and to expect, and he exploded in my hands just after I
started shooting him full of what I had left.

Frank was the only boy I knew, who was my own age, and who might be willing. We
often spent the night over with each other and we'd even installed a lock on
his bedroom door. He  had only only one bed in his room and I only had one in
mine, so we'd take turns and one of us would sleep on the floor. We'd been
JO-ing each other off, and even with our mouths sometimes. Usually we'd use the
floor, just to make less noise and to have more room. My uncle had given me a
rubber bulb with a short fat nozzle. I'm sure it was not made for what we
intended, but he assured me it would work just fine. He also gave me a big tube
of KY and told me to keep both well-hidden.

The first time we tried, it was at his house and we made an almost serious
mistake. He'd stashed some extra towels in his room and a pitcher of plain
water. We flipped a coin and he lost (which did not please him), so I agreed to
let him do it into me first. It was very clear that he enjoyed lubricating my
rear hole with his finger (and I loved it just fine), but he said he didn't
like it when I slide my first finger-full of KY up him (so I asked him why it
got him hard when I did it). After we'd both each made two trips to the john,
his father asked him if we had a problem (on future occasions, we made sure to
clean ourselves, each in the john alone... but we still enjoyed preparing each
other with our fingers in the bedroom).

The very first time he went into me, it was so exciting, I came before he
did... not that he was far behind (we soon developed better timing). It didn't
take us long at all to get to liking fucking a whole lot better than just plain
sucking. Usually, I am sure, he would pretend that I was some girl he had the
hots for... but I always knew he was a boy. The only thing on my mind was how
good it felt. I now see that it might  have been better if he had responded to
me as I was responding to him, and maybe I even felt that way at the time, but
life is seldom perfect and what we had was a whole lot better than nothing.

By the end of our year in the 7th grade, Frank was mowing lawns to earn extra
money. Soon after school was out for the year, he told me about the two men who
lived in one house and who paid him lots of extra money for allowing them to
take nude photos of him. They asked him if he knew other boys who might like to
earn some extra money, and he told them about us AND EVERYTHING WE'D BEEN
DOING! That really upset me, and then he told me that they had offered some
"really big money" if we would allow them to take photos of us while we were
doing what we most enjoyed doing. I could not believe it. I asked him if he
liked posing for them, and he said that he didn't, that he only did it for the
money. Then I asked him if he liked them, and he said that he couldn't really
stand them. So I asked him how he could even think about it, and he had no
answer.

When I told my uncle all about it, he asked a question that never crossed my
mind, he asked if Frank NEEDED the money. I gave that some thought, every boy
wants more money always, but I had to admit that Frank did not really NEED to
do anything he did not want to do, just for money. And that was, I think, the
first time my uncle talked to me about people USING people.

I still have some problems understanding that fully. If a person wants to do
something (for whatever reason), even if the other person is using him or her,
what is the problem? I think Frank knew that they were using him, and I'm also
very sure that he knew he was using them (but I am now aware that he probably
did not know HOW he was using them).

Speaking of photos (and I am aware of the general panic concerning children
porno), I have a few shots of my uncle and I on his boat and on the beach (we
are wearing at least swim shorts in all of them). But I don't have any of us
nude, and we don't have any of the sex we enjoyed so much. There have been
several times when I have felt some strong regret about that (we can't go back
and make them now)... and I sometimes have the sinking feeling that I will
regret it even more in the future. And then there are so many other things that
were so good with Carol, and Frank, and Tracy, and then my big (very real at
the time) love affair with Cindy (that lasted for almost all of our time in the
8th grade)... to say nothing about all the naked men I saw as a child. All
those visions should have been saved. But now, in view of the panic, it is
perhaps best that they weren't. What a shame.

I also need to tell you that all of high school was not a bed of roses.
Football and basketball were often more important then studies (especially the
glory), and I did not work as hard on them as I should have. Also, after the
9th grade, I took a part-time job in a local gas station. The man who owned it
was very nice from the start, but then he made me an offer he said I could not
refuse, if I wanted to keep the job. I told him to stick it, and it took me
more than a month to find another summer job... that really hurt.

Some other kids had it much worse. In the 10th grade one of my best riding
buddies (for motorcycles only) finally told me that his father had raped him
(forced him down and fucked him in the ass) when he was about 9 years old. His
father is still a very well-respected oral surgeon. I'm not sure how much pain
this still causes Mike (it hurt like hell at the time, Mike said, but that is
not what I am talking about and you know it). Maybe it is good that it only
happened once, but it still might cause him problems in the future.

Also in the 10th grade we learned about one of the girls (I'll call her Jane)
who had some real problems. Even though Jane was one of the cheerleaders, I did
not really know her well. Maybe I didn't like her very much. She wasn't ugly,
infact she was very pretty and had a great bod. Five months after it happened,
she told her best girlfriend about an evening she spent with a young married
couple. They lived on her street and she'd known them for years. She was often
in their home and she often went water-skiing with them.

One evening they were doing coke (and I'm not talking about the brown wet stuff
that comes in a a bottle) and she was doing a little dance for them, while she
wasn't wearing very much. She admitted that she was feeling good, and real
sexy, even though she hadn't even had anything to drink. But then, as she told
it, things got out of hand and they both forced her down on the couch, and held
her down, while he had intercourse with her. They told her that she would like
it, but she didn't.

After she told her girlfriend, the girlfriend told her mother, and now both the
man and the woman are in prison for any number of years. The really bad part
about this is that word got around and the good guys wouldn't have anything
more to do with her. She started going with some real scum guys and she was a
mess before she graduated.

Susan lives at one of the local marinas and she has been out of high school for
several years. We are good friends. Besides conversation, we enjoy sailing, and
that is all. Several months ago she first told me that her father, and both
older brothers, forced her to have sex with them, several times each week for
several years. She can't stand the idea of living in a house, she has no
(sexual) boyfriends, she tells me that I am the only person (other than her
therapist) she really talks with. She has been hurt so much for so long, she is
still hurting, and I am afraid she may hurt forever.

They started on her when she was 13 and they didn't stop until she ran away
from home when she was 16. She hitched to Hollywood, a very old man picked her
up and took her home. He was very good to her. She didn't really enjoy sex with
him and he was good enough to finally realize why. He allowed her to live on
his boat with him, told everyone she was his niece, and got her into the local
high school. She'd never done well in school but now she was doing great. It
wasn't long before she really loved him. He died about a year ago and he left
her his boat.

I think she will never be able to stand living in a house again, and I doubt
she'll ever marry. I don't know how she'll do. Last summer several times, while
we were sailing, she felt comfortable enough to swim nude with me. I like her,
and she knows it, but she also knows that I don't "need" sex with her, for her
to be my friend. Sometimes I just want to hold her very close.

This whole business of the knee-jerk panic about adult and child sex is really
sick. There are children who want to, with some, and not with others. And then
there might even be children who don't want to, with anyone. There are, I am
sure, people who will say that I am bisexual today because of my uncle (and my
playing with other boys). Who knows, who cares, what does it matter? I love my
life and whatever I am. I work hard and I've earned everything I have (OK, so
my uncle did give me a really good deal on the first car I ever bought, and my
parents helped a lot... but isn't that what loved ones do for those they
love?).

Maybe if I'd had an aunt who cared for me as much, and as well, as my uncle did
-- maybe today I wouldn't be what I am. If that had been the case, I still feel
that I would be just as happy with my life as I am today. Let's face it, I
could have been born with dark hair instead. I could have been born to be
short. I could have grown up hating the things I love and loving the things I
hate. I could even have been born as a girl... to some other parents... in some
other country... 100 years ago, or 100 years from now.

The only thing that really matters is that some people loved me, took good care
of me, helped me learn the good things, protected me from things that hurt, and
allowed me to become myself.