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I like it here, Miles thought, right here. The breeze is perfect. The sun feels right on my face. This is a spot where I can feel safe. I know I'll have to find a back up one, but this is just my first day. I don't figure the kids here will be any different than back home. They sound funny, they smell different too. It must be the food. What I wouldn't give for some real fish and chips.
They sound pretty much the same when they're in a group on the playground. Although it lacks the occasional `knock' sound of a ball on a cricket bat.
I suppose the parade will begin shortly. That part never changes. I'm new, a novelty. They'll line up to be my friend and remain so for a week, then find out that I'm not as much fun to drag along and they'll drift away. I'll get to be alone again. Not worthy of even their friendship. Let's just skip that part right off. I'll be an ass right off the bat and save them and me the grief. I'll be a 155 cm complete dick.
His hair was dark brown and baby thin, nearly to his slight shoulders. It was so thin that the slightest breeze made it dance across his face and when the wind didn't blow it fell back as straight as the red and white cane he used to maneuver in his dark world. He had been blind as long as he could remember. A result of a car wreck when he was just five years old and left him in the care of his aunt and uncle. He had a beautiful face with deep green eyes and a small pointed nose that picked up on everything. His mouth was very small with beautiful thin lips that covered two rows of nicely aligned white teeth. He had a beautiful smile that used his whole face although it hadn't been seen by anyone in a very long time. But he had a secret.
He could tell things about people. Not always, but sometimes he had visions of things before they happened. He couldn't control it, it just happened when it did. Sometimes, when he touched someone, he would get a flash of something, or a lot of things that would tell him about people. He never spoke of it. He was weird enough as a blind kid at twelve without the added weirdness of people thinking he could see into their closets.
It was his first day at a new school in a new land. Uncle Chet was an aircraft engineer. He made good money but they moved every two to three years. Seemed he would just get settled into a new place and then get moved again. He was seldom missed and left very few friends. Being blind meant he had no video games, movies or games that sighted kids could appreciate. Music was the color in his world, but not the rock kind, but usually classical. He could enjoy the sound of each beautiful note. Another reason most kids shied away from him. He didn't have much to offer them in the way of friendship. He couldn't even share books as the ones he had contained no letters for the eye. He found life easier to deal with as an observer. The problem he had now though, was that his body was not satisfied being a spectator.
He had found that certain smells of people had certain effects on him never experienced before. They caused a lurch to occur below the waist line. He wanted to feel a touch, but didn't want to be within arm's length of anyone. It was confusing to say the least. He didn't quite know what to do about it, except endure.
"Hello," a voice called.
"Hello," he said back. It was a pleasant enough voice, but he wasn't about to give anyone a reason to sit down. It was easier to chase them all away. It was safer.
"You're the new kid."
"Top of your class, are you? Or has somebody already hung a sign?"
The girl froze and looked at him, "God, what a fucking dick," and stormed off.
Next up was a young man about the same age. "Hey."
"Is that a greeting or are you offering me part of your bloody lunch?"
The kid just froze looking at him, not sure what happened. "It was a greeting. Are you stupid as well as blind?"
"Well, judging by the smell of you, I thought it might be an offer for lunch. You smell like a stable."
"And you act like an ass!" the kid said, as he stormed off.
Well, he thought. Word should get around rather fast and I won't be bothered too much anymore. Too bad, that one sounded almost worthwhile, once you got past the smell.
"Better be careful. The rate you're going you might become less popular than me. A guy has to try pretty hard to get to that status."
"And what is wrong with you may I ask? Leper? Cretan? Hall Monitor?" Miles retorted.
"The worst crime of all, I loved a boy." The voice answered. "Even talking to me could get you labeled as undesirable."
"That, sir, may be the best reason in the world to ask you to have a seat." -Besides the fact that you smell really good, he thought, his nostrils flaring just a little to see if he could identify whether it was him or a really great lunch someplace. Whatever it was smelled delicious. "Come on over if you dare, you might be labeled as a cripple sympathizer. No worries, I don't expect you to have to ever repeat it."
The voice came closer. "I'm Jamie," he said extending his hand. Miles turned his head and looked directly at his hand and took it with his and shook it. But he held onto it for a moment, like he was sizing something up, then he turned it loose.
"Miles" he said. "Have a seat."
"Hey look, the new kid's a faggot lover!" A boy shouted.
"Hey, it's working already. I must say, you've saved me a lot of trouble. Seems I'm in your debt to begin with." Miles said smiling.
"I don't get it. What's with the social suicide? Why chase people away just because you're blind? I'd give almost anything to have any one of them ask me to be a friend, or just speak to me without the word faggot stuck on the end. Being blind can't possibly be that fucked up. In fact, it borders on cool."
Miles turned towards the young man. "Cool, you think. Really? Let me ask you Jamie. Just what is your recreation?"
"Say what?" Jamie replied.
"Your recreation, what do you do for fun?"
"I don't know, watch TV, play video games, maybe read a book. Why? What's that got to do with anything?"
"It has everything to do with it. Like you said, the new kid borders on cool. A novelty act. But I don't watch TV and can't play video games and we can't even read the same books. So, hanging out together get's really old, really fast. Then what? One by one, they all drift away. They don't come by, they get quiet and try and sneak by in the hall, thinking that I won't know they walked past me. When I call, they don't answer and they don't return my calls. I end up the same. This way, I don't have to face it. I can reject them before they have a chance."
"Never looked at it that way. Sorry."
"Save your pity for someone who will cry over it. I don't need anyone's pity."
"What DO you need Miles? You can't be alone forever."
"I'm doing well so far. I have music. That is the flower in my dark world. So to answer your question, I don't need anyone or anything."
"That's pretty sad. You almost make me happy to be who I am . . . What I am."
"And so you should. You have hope. There are others out there like you. You may not find them until you are out of this hell called high school, but you will eventually find them. I don't have that dream. A relationship? Ha! Not in this life time. What girl would have a blind guy for a date? What shall we do dear? Go and listen to a movie? I can help you find a seat. I'm used to the dark. I know! Let's go shopping! What's that you say? Does that make you look fat? I can honestly say, I don't see that, dear. Of course, it makes you look stunning. Hey buddy, would you mind reading this love note to me? Thanks."
Jamie was trying not to laugh but he couldn't help it.
"Yeah, it is funny," Miles said quietly, "when it's not you."
"No, it's not funny. But the way you present it, is. You have a unique view on things for sure, but that accent of yours and the words you use, just the way you say it, are hilarious. That's what I am laughing at."
"Alright, I've told you my story, now let's hear yours." Miles said, and the bell signaling the end of the lunch hour rang.
"Well, it looks like we'll have to save that for another time." Jamie said, starting to slide off the bench. "Need some help to get to your next class?"
"No, I just sit here and they send someone to lead me round."
"Oh, sure, I understand. No problem."
Miles heard the rejection acknowledgement in his voice. "Jamie, perhaps tomorrow we can continue this conversation. If you wish, I'll be right here. How many blind guys with flaming red hair do you know anyways?" Miles chuckled.
Jamie smiled again, realizing he just made a friend. "Miles, uh, you don't have red hair. It's brown."
"I don't? Are you quite sure?"
"Quite" Jamie replied.
"That dirty bitch, she's been lying to me all these years!" And then his deadpan serious face broke into a huge smile. "See ya tomorrow then, shall we?"
Jamie laughed, "I've got to get to class. See ya tomorrow." Jamie couldn't get his new friend off his mind. He was just so happy just to have a friend. And he's funny too. Too bad he's straight, he thought to himself. I hope he continues to be my friend when the idiots get rough because he's friends with me.
"Miles," his auntie Margaret said, "Come with me to the market won't you. I need sweet melons for my ladies luncheon. I'm new to it, so this needs to be just right. First impressions you know. I could use that nose of yours to help me pick out a ripe one."
His Auntie Margaret was married to Chet, the brother of Miles' father. She was in her late thirties with a pretty, though not exceptional face. She and Uncle Chet had been married for a long time, but had no kids. When the accident happened, they were all to glad to take Miles in. They loved him and cared for him as they would a son. And he had grown to love them too.
"Sure Auntie Margaret, I'll go." He sighed. He really hated to go to the market because of the mold and rotten food smells. It could get over powering sometimes. But even being overpowered by bad smells could be better than the boredom of everyday life and he knew that she was right. He could pick a perfect sweet one out of a mound of them and this was important to her. He liked to have self worth, even if it wasn't much. But there was another reason he knew he had to go.
The market wasn't far and being British, they walked where they could, saving on petrol. And it was a pleasant walk. Miles would always lag behind, following in her footsteps and listening to each and every sound. Then he would catch up at the intersections, never being more than a step or two behind her. She would always say the name of the streets at the intersection. It was something they had done for years. This also helped give him the lay of the land. As he walked he built maps in his mind.
He had a small bead on the end of his cane instead of the marshmallow that one normally finds on the end of a blind person's cane and he seldom tapped it, but somehow felt proximity to things. He was very comfortable in his skin and knew his world very well. Being new here he had no idea where he was going, but he was sure he could get there safely.
They stopped at an intersection waiting for a light. "Following 13th Street and crossing Utica Drive," she said. He listened for traffic. He heard the pattern change. As his Auntie stepped from the curb, he heard something else and grabbed her arm pulling her back, "Wait" he said, as a car sped around the corner narrowly missing her.
"Lord child, thank God for those ears of yours."
"Yeah," he smiled. But the truth is it wasn't so much his ears. He was waiting for it to happen. He had touched her hand earlier and saw it. Where and when he didn't know for sure, but it would happen. When the moment came he was ready for it. It wasn't that God gave him better hearing because he was deprived of sight, although he had learned to pay closer attention to his other senses since he relied on them more. But he had an intuition that was uncanny and un-nerving to some. He told very few about it. Auntie Margaret didn't understand it at all and acted almost frightened when he mentioned it many years back. He learned then that some things needed to be kept to himself. His intuition was one of them.
They crossed the street and made their way to the market. The aisles were narrow, like most neighborhood markets. Space was a premium, so cram it all in. As they walked through the market a smell caught his attention. It was a really good smell and really strong. It was a familiar scent. He stopped and looked to his left. It was gone.
"Over here sweetie, they're over here."
"Of course, Auntie Margaret. Here, this is a good one. Right here. Sweet and ready."
The walk home was longer somehow. He knew the smell. It was Jamie. He didn't even say `hi' to me. Judging by the strength of his sweat he must have been working there. He must have been ashamed to let anyone there know he knew the freak. That hurt, I opened myself to him too. He figured that if he had no friends either, that possibly they could be. I won't make that mistake again. But God, his smell. No one I have ever met smelled that good. And it was `his' smell. Not something he put on or a soap that he used.
Night came all too early for Miles. The world became quiet. There was little to no sensory input. He couldn't escape his own mind. The loneliness was overwhelming sometimes. Like this time. It was bad enough that he had no friends, but he longed to be touched. No motherly touch, no fatherly touch. No one touched him at all. Almost never. And when he touched someone else, the flash or the vision occurred. He just wanted to be touched by a loving hand. He wanted to feel connected to another human being. He missed that. Auntie Margaret seldom even touched him. Her family wasn't big on touching or "I love yous."
As the tears slowly seeped from his quiet eyes, he drifted off to sleep.
Colors! Fighting. Words. `Faggot!' Blood, stars, black. Miles snapped awake. He reached for his clock and hit the top. An electronic voice said, "The time is four, twenty-four AM." He was sweating and breathing hard. He had dreamed in color. That was unusual for Miles. It had only happened twice before. And both times they came true. Both times it was bad, too. He closed his eyes. I'll try and forget it. Get some more rest.
He felt a touch. A soft touch. A kiss, then the soft slow kisses moved to his neck. He felt hot breath on his neck, a gentle nibble on his earlobe. Flesh upon flesh. He felt a hand move down his side, touching his skin as it went. He gasped for breath. The kisses continued down his side, kissing the crease in his leg as he felt hot breath across his genitals, and the kisses moved up his shaft to the crown of his seven inch cut staff. He felt his hardness begin to writhe, undulating as the lips that once kissed, now sucked his shaft down to the base of his wholeness. His breathing became faster and faster, his hands went to the hair of the person sucking him in. He planted his heels in the mattress and pushed, forcing his shaft into the throat of his hidden, silent lover as he exploded. He felt hot cum shooting up his chest, over and over again. He was awake, breathing heavy and alone. He buried his face in his pillow and wept.
The noon bell rang for lunch; Miles found his place on the bench and quietly sat down, folding his cane and slipping it in the pocket of his cargo pants below his knee. He grabbed his lunch bag and his bottle of Gatorade and settled in. The Gatorade went in his crotch and the bag in one hand while his immediate food went in the other. He had learned not to leave anything unattended. He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed as he felt the hot sun on his face. Jamie got his lunch and was looking to see what the scene looked like before he went too far out into the open. Not sure if he would be as welcome today as yesterday. It could be that Miles had time to think, or that someone talked to him. In any case, he wasn't sure he was doing right by allowing him to brand himself with his plague. He liked him. And Miles had a kind of hell he couldn't escape. Did he really need the trouble that came with exposure next to him?
"Well, are ya going to stand there looking at me like you did last night in the market or are you at least going to have the decency of telling me that you thought better of it and decided not to be seen with the freak?"
"What? You knew I was there and didn't say anything? How did you know? For that matter, how did you know I was here? And before you answer, it's not like that."
"Really? Well suppose you just tell me how I could stand two feet from you and you not say anything? What, your lips suddenly fail. More likely that ape that runs the place, took a shot at the blind kid and you were too embarrassed to admit that you knew me."
"No . . . More like it is bad enough that I'm a homo but I'm also poor. I work there evenings so I have money for lunches. So how did you know I was there and how did you know I was here?"
"Are you telling me the truth? You didn't stay silent because I'm a freak?"
"I'm telling you the truth. And you're not a freak. I wish you'd stop saying that."
"I am a freak. You just haven't realized it yet." He said quietly.
"Well, I don't see you that way, now are ya going to tell me how you knew?"
"Well, you're really a single track there, aren't you? If you must know, it's your smell." He said looking down at his lap but not really seeing. He often looked down when he was saying something someone might think strange. It was like he was listening harder to try and discern how it was received.
Jamie stared at him for a moment and then said, "Oh great, now I'm a stinking homo." As he pulled his shirt up to smell and turned his nose to his pits, checking to see if he forgot his deodorant.
"Oh stop it, and I prefer `stinking faggot' if you don't mind. Look, everyone has a particular smell. Maybe I smell the same scent as a blood hound or something, but I can smell each person's scent. And particularly yours, it has an unusually pleasant smell to it."
"Oh, I smell . . . uh. . . good to you then. Not offensive then."
"Yes, completely non-offensive. In fact, I think I should rather like very much to hang you around my neck like a flower garland, but I think you might be a bit large for that." Miles now smiling. "But you could come sit down if you have a mind to."
Jamie came and sat down next to Miles. He started to chuckle, "You prefer stinking faggot," and he laughed harder, then Miles laughed and before long they were laughing so hard they were almost in tears. "Freaky Blind Kid" Jamie laughed hard as Miles sobered up sternly and said, "No, now, that's not funny. You just don't know. Wait for the full moon and see how funny it is. You won't be laughing then!" Jamie roared, as Miles couldn't keep it up as the straight man any more and busted up too.
The bell rang and this time they got up together. Jamie snatched a sign off the back of the bench, looked at it and balled it up.
"What did it say?" Miles asked.
"You don't want to know. Come on."
"No, really. What did it say?" Miles asserted again.
"It said, `Faggot Lover'."
"Ohhh . . .," Miles said. Then he got a smile on his face, "Did I spell it right? I wasn't sure if it was one `g' or two." They laughed all the way down the hall. "No really, you have no idea how tough it is for a freaky blind kid to make a sign! And then, to hang it up correctly. You might think that easy, but I'm here to tell you . . ." and they disappeared into their classrooms. The laughter could be heard all the way down the hall.
The lunch meetings went on for over a week. The two smiled and laughed and joked with each other. Jamie really enjoyed Miles dry wit and found himself laughing at bits he didn't get right away as he rethought and replayed conversations in his head. He couldn't remember laughing so much. Miles really made him happy.
Jamie usually went from school straight to work, and since Miles knew how to get home from there, he walked home from school. It became almost a ritual. They had become thick as flies on a cow pie.
"Hey, do ya think that since you have this weekend off that you might like to sleep over? You'll have to bring your own entertainment for when I bore you."
"Yeah, you sure? I think I'd like that."
"You don't have to ask your mother or anything?"
"Nah, they won't even know I'm gone. You see, faggots aren't any more popular at home than they are at school."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"No worries, how could you, I don't advertise it much."
"Then, tomorrow after school." Miles stated as if it were now written in stone.
"I can't wait. You will be the first person since I have gone blind to see my room, let alone stay overnight."
"You mean you weren't blind from birth?"
"Seems we both have a lot to talk about. Maybe you won't have time to get too bored. The townhouse association has a pool so bring a suit."
"Uh . . . like, I don't have one."
"No worries, I'm sure I have some that will fit ya. I'll just go naked. If I can't see their faces, I can't get embarrassed. I'll just look in their direction and say, `Hey, I thought it was clothing optional. Get a sign in Braille or get over it!'"
"Hey, can I pretend to be blind too? Then I can go naked with ya."
"You sure that's the best idea for you?"
"It is for me, it may not be for you, but what the heck, we'll play it by ear. I gotta get to work, tomorrow then?
It was the longest Friday in history. It had at least six extra hours. And that was before lunch! They made it through and headed for home. Auntie Margaret knew he was excited and gave his room clean sheets, extra pillows and blankets. She looked at the room. It was very Spartan looking. There was absolutely no clutter. He had a table with four neatly stacked piles of Braille books. They are larger than regular books so a bookshelf was out of the question. There were no pictures or posters on the wall. What use would decorations be to a blind boy? A chair and desk, a nightstand absent one light and a talking alarm clock. What else did a blind kid need? She shook her head. "It is what it is," she sighed to herself.
She dusted and vacuumed and straightened the piles of books. That's about all there was to do for it. Normally she didn't go upstairs at all if she could help it. She found the lack of fluff depressing. When Uncle Chet came home for weekends he stayed downstairs pretty much too, seeing no reason to invade Miles' privacy.
Being blind, you don't think too much about your modesty when you are growing up. The thought that there might be something others shouldn't see isn't there unless you're told. And since the grown-ups never ventured upstairs, it was just missed. He knew to be dressed when he went downstairs, but that first landing was still upstairs, so he often came that far in a state of undress to answer a hail or to ask a question. Since Marggie liked seeing a little cheesecake now and then, she said nothing, and in fact would call him for a question or two when she knew he would be undressed.
So the door to the bathroom and the door to his bedroom never really got used. Once in a while, when the deep funk got to him, Miles would close the door to his room so that others couldn't hear his sobs.
Auntie Margaret was so happy to see Jamie come through the door with Miles. She so wanted to see him happy and with friends. She told Jamie to feel right at home here and she made Shepherd's Pie, a favorite of Miles. She told them that she would heat up some peach pie as soon as Uncle Chet got home. He always liked to eat a piece of pie and to sit with Auntie Margaret while he smoked his pipe. Well, he didn't smoke any more, so he just held it in his mouth. He said it was almost like smoking it and it still had some of the flavor in it.
Miles liked Uncle Chet, but his job kept him away most of the time. Just a few weekends off here and there. He couldn't talk about what he does because it was for the government. But it had something to do with the design of airplanes and they never had trouble with the bills.
The boys went upstairs to set up the blankets and pillows on the floor. His bed was only a twin and two gangly twelve year olds just wouldn't fit, so Miles decided that they would both sleep on the floor. They leaned back and started to talk.
"Jamie, tell me about the older round bald guy that pushed you down the stairs and tried to beat you."
"What! What are you talking about?"
"I saw it, when I shook your hand. The man only had hair on the sides of his head. He had on an undershirt and pajama pants. Long, white with blue strips, and a design in them."
"Sheesh. That's exactly what he was wearing even. It's when they found out I was . . . you know. . . gay. That was when my life went to shit. It was the last time I saw my mom smile. The last time I was allowed to be alone with my little brother. The last time my father said a kind word to me. It was the last time I was allowed to sleep upstairs. I was locked in the basement after that. They didn't even give me my bed down there. They just threw blankets and pillows down. I had to use the bathroom before ten or wait until morning. This was almost a year ago and that's how it has been ever since. I was lucky to get the job with the market. I lied and told him I was 14. I think he knows, but he knows how much I need the money, too."
"God, I'm so sorry. That's awful."
Auntie Margaret called the boys to come down for pie.
Uncle Chet met Jamie and shook his hand. "You boys think you might want to go fishing Sunday? I haven't been in ages and there is a nice lake just a few miles from here."
"I've never been! I think it would be grand." Miles was beaming.
"That sounds like fun, but I don't have any gear or anything."
"No worries mate. That's what we have a Wal-Mart for, my treat. But you'll have to earn your keep. This is a guess mind you, but I don't think Miles is going to be exceptionally good at baiting his hook, casting or watching his bobber. So you'll have to help."
"I think I can do that, sir."
"And enough of that `Sir' stuff. I've never been `publicly' knighted so let's just have you call me Chet."
"Thank you sir, I mean Chet. I really look forward to it."
"It's getting late. You boys better put your dishes in the sink, remember to rinse, and then off to bed."
The boys did as they were told and headed up to bed. Stopping off in the privy for a bit of brushing, Jamie flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. "It must be burned out," Jamie said.
"Uh no, I think as the ones downstairs burned out they just sort of took the ones from up here. I mean, I don't use them much and if one got on by incidental then it would run the meter up wouldn't it?" Miles said with a grin. "Welcome to my world. Come on, I'll help. Feel where the sink is. Hold your tooth brush with your finger against the side of the bristles. Flip the top on the tube and gently squeeze from the front to the back. Stop when you get to the end of the bristles. Flip the cap back and set the tube far back on the right side. That's important for the morning if you want to find it again. Now, you know where your mouth is, your teeth have not moved. Brush away. Remember to keep one hand on the edge of the sink as you lean over. That way you'll drip in the sink. Remember to rinse while still over the sink."
"Not bad for your first attempt."
"How do you know how good or bad it was?"
"Your breath is significantly better at the moment."
"No worries, but you asked. Remember the nose knows."
"Ah, ok. But now I have to take a leak. This could be dangerous in the dark."
"No worries, allow me to demonstrate. I approach the closet thusly, toes on either side of the bowl. Lifting the lid, I unzip, releasing the wild stallion. Reining him in, I hold him at precisely 5:00 in front of me and let go. With sufficient practice one can piss in a Dixie cup at three meters without a drop on the floor."
"Yeah, and when uh . . . you've got . . . uh . . . wood?"
"Ah yes, well then, precision goes out the window old chap, use the tub-shower, you'll never miss. Here, just do an about face."
"Thanks. Oh shit."
"Yes, well, it does require that you open the door on the enclosure. Towel on your right, thanks." The giggling continued until the mess was soaked up and the towels put in the hamper.
Getting ready for bed, Miles stripped without thinking and stretched out on the pallet that they made. Moonlight illuminated the small room enough to see dimly the outline of his body and the sparkle in his unseeing eyes. Miles sensed he hadn't joined him. "What's wrong?"
"I am trying to figure out if I should sleep in my pants or go naked too."
"Easy answer, your clothes have all the smells and stuff from your travels today. I don't want those in bed with us. Don't tell me you're shy in front of the freaky blind kid."
"Ah, no, not at all."
"That's a concept I haven't mastered yet."
"Modesty. I never know when people can see me and when they can't and if they can, does it make a difference really if they do? Mine must be the same as yours or any other persons. I mean sure some are larger, smaller, wider, but we all have one. I mean why dicks and not ears? I don't get it."
"I never thought about it that way. It is a good question."
"What's it like to be gay? Or rather, what's it mean to be gay? I mean, I know it means that you prefer boys to girls, but what do you do together when you're gay?"
"God, I wish I knew."
"Well when I figured out I was gay, Mat Charlson and I had agreed to meet behind the bleachers in the gym. We kissed and the coach came around the corner. The next thing I know he was moving to another school and I became a public punching bag."
"Wait a minute. Your entire life has been fucked up for over a year and all you got was a kiss?"
"Well it was a very good kiss."
"Its memory has kept me sane for over a year."
"Damn, no shit!"
"I have spilled more boy jam over that one kiss than the British Sub Service."
"Hey, go easy on the British. Well, did you have a plan? What would have come next after the kiss?"
"I was sorta counting on him to teach me. Turns out I was his first too. I mean, I know some stuff but I haven't really done them. Like 69'ing."
"Well, uh, that's where one turns the other way and you suck each other's balls and cocks."
"Damn, that sounds like it would really feel great. What else?"
"Well I only know about two other things. One is corn holing or butt fucking, but that's supposed to really hurt the first time, at least when you start. Then it is supposed to get feeling really good when you get moving. But you have to use something to lube your butt or it hurts a lot. And the other is rubbing dicks together until you come. Those are the only things I know about. Why all the questions? Are ya thinking you're gay?"
End of Chapter one
Thanks to Mark for editing! email@example.com
Other writing by this author:
The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of