Chapter 7
Some experiences that we have are very hard to be objective about.
And I suppose it is just these experiences which it is most important to be objective about.
I imagine you would like a specific case to illustrate what I'm talking about.
Then, for example: say that two people share a very special experience. This experience is so intense that they feel that the sharing of it might make them lovers.
But then say this situation is made complex by the fact that they have a social relationship which makes their desire to relate as lovers inappropriate.
I suppose that I am still being somewhat too general.
What happened was that my cousin Calvin and I shared a very special experience and we ... I suppose you could say that we fell in love.
It was a type of love not suited for people who must relate as cousins.
I cannot say that Calvin and I found a solution that was totally satisfactory, but we did finally arrive at the best possible compromise.
We agreed to remain friends very special friends, but still just friends as opposed to lovers.
We write to each other all the time now, and we can tell each other things that we really can't tell to anybody else.
We are looking forward to the time when we can see each other again.
Of course, we are a little worried about that too, since we remain very attractive to each other in a highly inappropriate way.
So we have agreed that we won't see each other until both of us have found an intense and satisfying love relationship that will allow us to channel all the affections that might be labeled as purely "sexual" toward this person and not toward each other.
I have found a boy that I like very much.
His name is George.
In his letters, Calvin insists upon calling George my "hot prospect."
As much as I dislike this term, I must admit that George is indeed the "hottest prospect" that I have.
I don't believe in love at first sight, at least I didn't, but that is what happened with George.
The circumstances under which we might are rather embarrassing in that I'm afraid they paint a rather grimy picture of my moral character.
However, they way we met is the way we met, and I can't lie about it.
I was walking home one day when it started to rain and I was dressed up rather nicely, and when it started to rain on me, I began to curse the heavens with some very unlady-like language.
I heard someone laugh behind me and I turned and it was a young man with an umbrella.
He shared it with me, and offered to walk me home.
We got to talking and I liked him instinctively and found that we had some much in common that I told him that I lived six blocks further than I actually did.
And by the time we got to that sixth block I liked him so much and trusted him so much that I even admitted what I had done.
He was very flattered, and since we were by now much closer to his apartment than mine, he invited me up.
I would like to be able to say he offered me some wine and then seduced me, but there wasn't even that mitigating factor.
We simply were so attracted to each other that we found each other embracing passionately on his bed.
I kept telling myself that I should protest when he took of my blouse and began to fondle and kiss my breasts, but instead I found that my hands were uncontrollably attracted to the buttons and buckles and zippers on his clothing and I can offer no explanation for the fact that I was soon naked in his arms.
He was more experienced than any lover I had ever had.
He went very slowly, taking his time in gently caressing my breasts with his hands and then licking at the tips with slow, broad sweep of his tongue.
He sucked and fondled my breasts until I could feel myself growing very moist and warm between my legs.
It was like there was a liquid flame flowing through my veins, and all my veins somehow ended at my vagina.
I wanted to have him inside me very badly and I think I surprised him when, before he even began to caress my genitals, a reached down and took his penis in my hand and stroked it until it grew hard.
George is several years older than me and was amazed and delighted that I should prove so sexually precocious.
I gripped his organ loosely in my hand, and began to masturbate him. It felt good to have his manhood throbbing in my hand, and I was pleased at the pleasure I could give him.
I was even more pleased when he said my touch was perfect, and that no other woman had made him feel so good. I suppose you may think he was "handing me a line" as they say, but if you knew George, you'd know that he was incapable of such a thing.
His pre-coital semen began to flow from the head of his penis and it made the shaft sensually slippery.
His delight in my sexual know-how made me want to impress him even more so I bent down to his erect penis and began to perform fellatio on him.
It aroused me to feel him undulating under me and moaning with the intensity of his passion.
Soon he positioned me so that he could perform cunnilingus on me while I kissed and sucked on his penis.
It was the first time I had engaged in this form of mutual oral-genital stimulation.
It was quite marvelous.
We both had orgasms in each other's mouths.
This was the first time I ever had a man ejaculate in my mouth, and though I was afraid that I would find the experience distasteful, I found it delightful.
To feel the full, pulsating length of his erect organ in my mouth, and to feel the way the flesh seemed to strain to meet my mouth in order to ease the ache of desire with which it burned these were incredible sensations.
And when he began to come, I felt his penis twitch and then I felt spasms down the whole length of it as I plunged to take as much of him as I could in my mouth and throat.
And his manhood began pumping his semen into me, and I found it wonderfully warm and thick, and I swallowed each jet of it as it spurted into my mouth from his climaxing organ.
All the while, I kept my hand wrapped around the base of the shaft, gripping it firmly and jerking it up and down to stimulate him even more.
And he moaned with such delight, I was became thoroughly aroused by his sexual climax.
I became so aroused finally by the feel of his orgasm throbbing and spurting in my mouth and the feel of his mouth on clitoris and vagina that I came too.
He felt me climaxing and at that instant he inserted two of his fingers into my finger and thrust them in and out to emulate the thrusts of a penis.
I moaned so loud that I embarrassed myself and he began to laugh, even as he face was buried in the soft wet flesh of my womanhood, and the vibrations of his laughter made my orgasm feel even more fantastic than it had up to that point.
After that first encounter, George and I have been seeing each other regularly.
I know I like very, very much and I am beginning to suspect that I may even love him.
Calvin writes that he is currently "screening his hottest prospects" and that he thinks that any day now he will settle down with one girl and "go as steady as is possible for a Casanova like me."
My own impression is that Calvin is too enamored with the idea of falling in love itself to settle into a permanent relationship.
He's not the most mature male in the world, but I love him anyway.
As a friend.
He showed me ... that I have heart to be touched.
And that if you don't let anyone touch your heart, you soon forget it's there.
Because try as hard as you might, you cannot touch your heart by yourself.