Although we were not genetically related,
you were like my brother---older and more experienced
although only nine days separated our June birthdays. And
you were beautiful (long-haired, slender, agile as a dancer), and
I was ugly (short-haired, always clipped, ungainly and awkward).
Inhibitions, nost of them parentally imposed, seemed to
collapse in your seductive presence. Aware of what I was
already customarily responsive to, you approached me that
summer afternoon, in nineteen seventy-one, with a rather
casual invitation. Our friendship had existed for eight of
our thirteen years; but, since the onset of my adolescence,
each glimpse of you was like the discovery of a new world
orbiting star that, suddenly, emerged in our skies to
outshine the sun. You were clad in a dark gray, mesh,
sleeveless tee; lavender bell-bottoms---some sort of
cloth far more supple than denim; and, beneath the
flared and unfrayed, untattered cuffs, midnight blue socks
not confined by or concealed within the unyielding
stiffness of shoes (which you had militantly disliked
since at least the time we attended kindergarten together).
You invited me to join you in the cool privacy of your
absent parents' presently empty garage (the house not
private enough with your oldest sibling asleep, after her
third shift seasonal job, in one of the bedrooms). I
watched the silent, but very seductive glide of your
softly-sheathed feet across the cool smoothness of the
concrete floor. You suggested I slip my sneakers off, and
then you unfastened my unfashionable pants waist-band; then a
bit of logistical wiggling out permitted our Pleasurers to
emerge and---as our mouths engulfed each other, and our
tongues swirled around each other like merging galaxies, our
Pleasurers greeted each other, kissed each other's vibrant
seamstrings, and exchanged a droplet of sweetness. Southward,
your slender feet, beautiful in those dark blue socks,
embraced mine between them as we leaned into each other, our
Pleasurers fondling each other in the communication of an
affection that transcends the words we then knew and
understood. We had been initiated that summer we turned
thirteen; that summer, the first season of our adolescent intimacy.
Starward