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The author “Chance” is me, “Larkin” This is an effort to re-compose my old roster into a new roster comprised old and new works, re-written and done with more careful editing. (omitting junk) I hope you will understand.
Please send comments to: to larkin@tutanota.com...And I will respond
We are Caterpillars
by Chance/Larkin
We
sat together in a clearing we had made for ourselves in the middle of
an endless field of reeds.
Hidden from the rest of the world, it
was a tiny crop circle all to our own.
Denny's shorts and underwear were pulled down and stretched between his knees.
He spoke with authority. "Cause, that's what you do with it, you pee in a girl's hole."
Now I
was not only puzzled, I was confused.
Denny held his limp weenie
in his hand and then squeezed it until it bulged out between his two
fingers.
Its head appeared like a little sea creature only to
retract on its own.
I wasn't bold enough to expose myself like
Denny had, but I watched him with great interest.
"But you have to have a boner first or it won't stick in."
I
wasn't even sure what a boner was.
That should give you some idea
of how young we were.
Denny
went on to demonstrate.
He tugged up and down on his dickie with
three fingers and a thumb, stopping periodically to sharply flick at
it until it began to stand stiffly up on its own.
Proudly he
displayed it to me.
It stood up a little more than two inches and
it twitched up and down.
His enthusiasm began to infect me.
"Let me see yours."
He
didn't wait for me to respond; he reached over and clumsily tried to
put his hand down my pants.
I felt like I should try to stop him
but I didn't.
I probably didn't because, between boys, "What's
fair is fair".
Now
he was up on his knees pulling open my pants with one hand and
reaching in to touch my penis with the other.
I admit to feeling
uncomfortable like being in a doctor's office.
He pulled my pants
out of the way and made me lie back while he went to work on my
dickie.
I
closed my eyes and all I could see was my angry mother and cross
teachers all warning me against doing bad things.
Only by
destroying them with imaginary explosions was I able to
relax.
Suddenly the creepy tickling on my little weenie evolved
into a wondrous feeling.
I
looked up to see Denny pulling my boner down and letting it flip
up.
I wanted him to keep on doing what he was doing.
I
remembered having boners before but I never knew that it was some
thing that could be summoned at will.
Denny
got up and trotted back and forth in our hideout with his pants and
underpants down around his ankles.
He celebrated how stupid it
looked but it didn't matter.
It was about pure freedom.
He
pulled his shirt up and tucked it under his chin so that his belly,
along with his stiff little penis was exposed for the sky to see.
He
was still giggling when he leaned back and began peeing into the
reeds.
Soon we were both naked and incredibly happy.
I was
filled with a new and growing awareness of myself.
I can hear the
panicked cries of sexual abuse, molestation.
I say, relax.
What
really happened?
When you think about it, nothing.
All boys
have a secret life.
Experiences shared but never put into
words.
These experiences are guides for the entry into manhood,
but once there, like the butterfly emerging from the chrysalis, they
deny the existence of caterpillars.