GOLDEN BOY
I was 10 years old, when I discovered why God had given me a penis. 15 years
old, when I first put it into a woman. 29 years old, when I first put it into a
man, and 32 years old when I entered the world of Sado-masochism as more than a
dream. Busy life. In between I married, graduated college and divorced in that
order. Sado-masochism was the reason I lost my wife, Phoebe. It was also the
reason that I didn't care. In order to truly understand my life I have to start
back when I was ten. It was then that I got my first erection. I was reading a
forbidden book on men in prison during a family vacation. A novel filled with
the rough imaginings of a fairly popular author, writing under a pseudonym. No
matter, my Dad confiscated the book after thumbing through it and finding that
"God-damn, Gay-shit" in it. Not the kind of thing that he wanted in the hands
of his impressionable ten-year-old son. Too late, Dad. It had been committed to
memory already. The most vivid parts were both the rape scenes. The one that
landed the hero in prison, and the one that taught him how it felt to be raped.
Porn with a message. It was a toss-up which one made my penis harder when I
read it. It didn't really matter the effect was the same. I had my first
orgasm in the men's toilet at the local Christian family campground. Didn't get
caught either.
I got a lot of mileage out of both of those fantasies. It always amazed me that
sometime during those active teenage years, my parents didn't find a smiling
dehydrated husk in my bed one fine school morning. They never did though. I
learned slowly that not all of my friends were as sexually precocious as I was,
but I figured that being ahead of this game was not necessarily a bad thing. It
encouraged me to develop above average reading skills, which astonished my
teachers, and made me something of a golden boy in the classroom.
I started spending most of my free time in the Library, public, and reading
books that I had found in the card catalogue that fired my imagination. When I
wasn't playing on the football team. I was Captain. Hey, it's not all about
screwing cheerleaders, but it is incentive. The captain has to plan the plays
in his head, and I could do that, so Captain. I liked the Library better. I
read all kinds of books. On-Pirates, Cops, Human Sacrifice, Torture, medical
texts. Anything that I could find. I wandered around the subject catalogue
until I could cross-reference in my sleep any subject they had in there. I was
cruising the women's section and discovered a book on orgasms for women, and got
the best advice about the opposite sex that I ever got anywhere. A satisfied
woman comes back for more. That was even a concept that we were learning about
in school. Supply and demand. Very logical. I wanted women, and they wanted
the same pleasure that I wanted. I decided to study the mechanics as hard as I
could so I would know how, if I ever did get laid, I could pleasure a girl.
I'll say this about them. They have weird plumbing. They bleed once a month for
God's sake. A very odd, but nice, set-up in my book. I learned more about the
female body than I knew about my own. Sniggering to myself in the classroom
when the cute little cartoon sperm, slid into that smiling egg in the health and
hygiene films. The science texts were much more accurate, and much less puerile
than those films.
When I turned fifteen, or a bit after, my father had me cleaning out the garage.
I found a box of old books, and went through them before throwing them away. In
it I found the Joy of Sex I and II. I hid the books, and took them upstairs
with me to hide them where I could easily read them. I pored over them. I know
I wasn't the only kid in that era to read those forbidden books, but I know that
I was the only one I knew to commit sections to memory. I felt that I was ready
to get rid of my virginity, but didn't have any idea about how to lose it. At
fifteen, I was tall with gangly arms and legs. Seriously academic, and a Jock to
boot. I was just too... whatever to have girls from school floating around me,
and the ones that did. Well, I had more experience then they did.
It was then that I met Gina in the Library. Older, she was twenty, with thick
dark hair and a big chest. Just a bit mysterious with her flowery skirts, and
denim hat. Eyes as black as ink and fathomless. We both seemed to be spending
Saturday night at the Library at any rate, so we started to talk to each other.
We became friends. She was one of those magically gentle people that listen
with their whole bodies when others talk to them. She seemed to hear every
nuance of what I said, and not to judge my opinions, beyond a gentle laugh every
once in a while. I told her things that I didn't dare tell my parents about
myself, until one night we ended up talking about... you know what. She folded
her hands serenely and listened to my breathless thoughts to their completion
and then took my hand. Her dark hair falling into her face, obscuring it.
"Come on." She led me out to her car, a shitty green Nova, and drove me to her
place.
<<<<<>>>>>
She had her own apartment, which I thought was too cool. Filled with books on
history and art. No T.V. She left me sitting on the half broken couch to go
into the kitchen and get some drinks. Coming back with two cans of Coke. She
sat facing me from one end of the couch, her eyes studying me with an intense
almost amused tolerance. She curled her legs up between us, and said.
"Now, tell me again what you want from a woman." I stammered a bit, and she
listened patiently. Telling me that women like to be talked too and not treated
like a side of beef. She sipped the coke, and seemed to come to some kind of a
decision. She slid closer to me, so that I could smell the salt of her skin.
Silky, smoky. The breath of her body from less than a foot from me. My glands
went into over-drive and I got immediately hard. Embarrassingly hard.
"I should go." She smiled and took one of my hands, putting it on her breast.
Hyper-drive. My penis became a painful mass of feeling between my legs, and my
pulse raced like I had run a mile.
"I would like you to stay." She said into my ear, not letting me choose really
just taking me into her room. Sitting me on the bed, and turning off the lights,
so the room was enclosed in a womb of darkness. "What time do you have to be
home?" She asked, and I told her midnight. My voice quavering and breathless.
I heard her moving around in the dark, and waited with my hands between my legs,
trying to control the pulsing heat that grew with every second. I lost it
though. My penis was definitely doing my thinking for me. Somewhere between
the bedroom and the living room. The little genius had crept up my neck, into
my head and taken over my brain. The only question I had really, because my
penis was doing a fine job so far, was if I should take off my clothes. I heard
her walking over to me, and did not resist when she stood me up and started to
take my clothes from me slowly. The pullover sweater, the jeans, socks, shoes,
and underwear. All under the cover of this warm velvet darkness. Sitting me
back down on the edge of the bed, and going to her knees before me.
"You're not scared, are you?" Her voice like hot caramel in the night.
"No." My voice sounded breathlessly young to me, but I was not scared. I was
too excited to be scared. Gina leaned over my lap. Her hair trailing over my
thighs. She took my organ into her wet, warm mouth, going to the very root, and
I exploded. Jetting a heavy stream of fluid into her throat in about a second
flat. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I fell back unto the bed,
gasping with reaction. Gina didn't stop though. She lay down beside me and
explored me with her hands as I caught my breath. Gently teasing me until I
felt ready to participate in the action.
"I'm sorry..." She shushed me, telling me that she had done it on purpose so I
could relax, and that I could touch her if I wanted too. All the wonderful
things that I had heard in my fevered imagination for the last five years. I
let myself go, and put my fingers into the magic place that I had studied for so
long. Feeling the hardness coming back up between my legs, as her drenched sex
opened and enfolded my fingers in their silky sheathing. She moaned when I went
into her, putting her hand over mine and guiding me to her pleasure spots.
Whispering the names, and places that I touched in a softly breathless voice.
Telling me that was good, and not so hard, and deeper. In breathless whispered
instruction. I touched her breast with my other hand, teasing the tips slowly.
Laying my whole hand over the pliant orb and squeezing it lightly. Her whole
body melted under my touch, and I felt the power of sex flowing through my body.
I touched her skin in my innocence, feeling the texture of the different places.
Face, neck, shoulders, legs, and stomach. Always returning to that secretly damp
and musky orifice that captured me surely. Finding that hard little button of
feeling after each foray away, to memorize the place with my fingertips. Gina
yielded to me, holding nothing back, no emotion, or sound. Everything I did to
her elicited some honest natural response from good to okay. Kissing me deeply
when I became engrossed, and tasting of sex and semen and Coke. Luscious.
Open-mouthed, tongues twining. Perfect.
When I finally whispered that I wanted to be inside her. She rolled the condom
over my organ, and used her delicate gentle fingers to guide me into her deep
well.
She sighed when I was all the way into her sex. The barest breath of sound in
the air. Putting her hands on my hips to teach me the rhythm. The same
dampened cavern that had so welcomed my nervous fingers, accepted completely, my
unrelenting manhood. There is no way really to describe the feel of her under
me. The soft ridged tunnel, caressing the length of my virgin sex for the first
time. The muscles of her cleft, holding me. Enfolding me completely, reluctant
to let me go. The tight rubber casing, maddening me, a friction all it's own. I
moved jerkily, unsurely. Gina always bringing me back to the even easy motion
that is instinctive really. When she came under me, her whole body shuddering.
The little mouth below, clenching with insistent force on my organ. Calling my
name as she arched under my body. I realized that she was enjoying this as much
as I was. Her little fingers clutched at my back, insistently. Urging me to
orgasm within her. I spilled over, as caught up in the moment as she was.
Collapsing on her body as the last of my passion wrenched into her sex.
Thinking about nothing but how much I had enjoyed myself.
As I finished the most incredible experience of my life. I thought perhaps, that
I had found something that I could be really good at, if I worked at it. Gina
moved first. Going to the bathroom and getting a wet towel, then cleaning me up
with it. Disposing of the protection, and curling herself against my chest.
Her head on my shoulder. This made me a bit uncomfortable, but she simply
laughed and said that this was the part women really liked. Not to cuddle
afterwards made them feel cheap. Used. I felt the glow of Making Love fading
and asked her finally, why she had done it. She hugged me closer before
explaining.
"Because you have the potential to be a very decent human being, and I knew that
I could give you a good start. I had a good start. I owed another one to the
cosmic good. I chose you." Hard to argue with that. It was a good start. "I
wanted you to have a nice memory, not something sleazy, or embarrassing. You
deserve better." It sounded like a nice sentiment, so I enjoyed it in the
spirit to which it was intended. I also enjoyed the feel of her in my arms.
Nice and warm against the length of my body. Gina was an encyclopedia of sexual
knowledge. Birth control, and different techniques. She let me experiment on
her willing body whenever we had the free time to do it, for one magic summer.
I learned quite a bit from her, before she had to go back to school. The halls
of college, calling her back finally. I cried the night she left, out of grief
and loss. My heart having gone to her during the endless nights we lay
together. She said something to me before she was gone that I still remember to
this day.
"Adam, just remember to look at more than the package when choosing someone to
love. The one, who doesn't make herself visible, may be the one who is truly
creative. The one truly free." She left, and I never saw her again. I often
wondered if she ever thought about me again, after she left, or was I just a boy
she broke in. No, not fair really. Just some residual bitterness speaking.
As I got older I realize that she did me a favor by making the break as clean
and as final as she did. I mourned and got over her with very little pain.
Gina shone in my memory as the first person in my life to give me a gift,
without ever expecting me to give anything back. A truly generous person. I
was very lucky.
<<<<<>>>>>
I came to the easy realization during High School that I was very good-looking.
Thick dark-hair, just a bit too long. Cold green-eyes that were piercing when I
was angry. Tall, broad-shouldered. Articulate. I scared the shit out of damn
near everybody that didn't know me. Just because of the way I looked. The
people that did know me, and knew me for the pussycat that I was, laughed at
those in terror of me. Hell, I laughed too. I had it pretty good in High
School, except for being teased unmercifully for my fascination with those girls
that everybody knew as wallflowers. I was very popular at school. I seemed to
come to the conclusion early that I was someplace magical. A situation that I
would never have again. That at no other time in my life would I get to deal
with as many people as I did on a daily basis as I did in high school. I
treasured the time I had there. Enjoying the people that I met, and talked too.
Enjoyed the Football games and the homecoming dances. I didn't lose my heart,
though, until senior year. That was the year that I met, Phoebe.
<<<<<>>>>>
Phoebe was a girl from the cheerleader squad. Quiet and serious. A tiny woman
with large dark eyes that looked almost puppy-ish. She never raised them to
talk to me, but I knew what they looked like. They were liquid pools of night
shining from her perfectly heart-shaped face. I fell for her so hard I could
barely think straight around her. I became a stammering mess, when she looked
at me. Barely able to speak. All I could do was gaze at her. I followed her
around for almost a month before she said that she would go out with me. Two
months before she let me kiss her for the first time, and three before she burst
into tears when I touched her breast because I didn't `respect her.' Took me all
night to calm her down, and I had to promise a hundred times to never try
anything like that ever again, before she would agree to keep seeing me.
I promised, but I also tried everything I could think of to get into her pants,
all to no avail. She wanted to be a virgin on her wedding night, and by all
that was holy, she was going to do it. Will of steel, on that point. In my
adolescent insistence, I figured I could bring her around, so I waited. Doing
the school thing. Part-time job, games, dances. Escorting her to these things,
and giving her my high school class ring so she would be my girl. It was like
that all year, and all summer. After Graduation, I started College locally,
because my parents couldn't afford to send me away to anyplace else. They near
bankrupted themselves to give me the four years that I would need to make a good
start in life, as it was. Always, Phoebe was around me. The thought of her
inflaming me. Her quiet voice, and downcast eyes. The silly things she said,
and the small little dreams that she had for her life. I thought her perfect.
Demure, innocent, sweet. I wanted her, and she wanted marriage. I gave in to
her and proposed to her in my 19th year. We planned to get married in the
summer.
