Why
I am a man who has lived a charmed but boring and sheltered life.
Hell yeah, I kid you not.
I often think back to my pre-teen and teenage years. Those were good years.
I was in the foster care system from the day I was born to the day I turned 18. My guardians were good Catholic people who may not have given me love but they taught me values, ethics and the concept of equality.
Being a foster kid with no parents meant I was different and being different brought me a lot of attention.
I recall when my older foster sister and her friends (all girls) would chase me round the backyard and tickle me crazy. I was so busy fending off the tickles, that I never noticed what all they were doing to me. I mean, there had to be some reason why they were laughing so hard while they were busy holding me down and running their fingers all over me. Right?
I recall the neighborhood girls inviting me over to play house. One afternoon we were down in someone’s basement. I was the only boy there and they kept asking me stuff. Stuff I didn’t know the answer to. One of their questions had me checking my dick when I got back home. Their curiousity was all good natured I suppose. Right?
At school there were girls who would track me down at recess just to dig their nails into me. They would leave their mark on me with deep long scratches. What the heck was that about and why was it only me? Folks would ask me where the scratches came from. I had no choice but to blame the cat. Right?
Of all the memories of my early life, the one memory that endures the strongest is the memory (when I was 13) of a boy my age who lived along my paper route. To this day, no person has ever elicited in me the intense erections that that this boy triggered. It didn’t matter where I was, whether sitting at my school desk or standing in line waiting for confession, the thought of that boy and what I wanted to do with him would bring on an immediate intense boner.
It was the springtime and I‘d turned13 a few months earlier. There was a stretch lasting several weeks where every afternoon we would randomly meet up somewhere along my paper route. These meetups were no coincidence. There was a mutual thing going between us. I don’t know whether it was an attraction or a crush but whatever it was, for me it was a longing to be physically entwined with him.
I recall one afternoon in class when I grew a very intense and prolonged boner. I didn’t know much about sex or any of the terms, but I was horny. Very horny. The hormones were raging and they were zoned in straight for that boy and his body and specifically that part of his anatomy that lay between his thighs.
Sure enough later that afternoon we met up after I was done delivering the papers. I do not recall who’s idea it was or whether it was just plan cosmic vibes but we ended up in a neighborhood field. In no time we were on the ground wrestling in the grass. I didn’t know what it was callled, but I wanted something. Sometime later I understood that what I wanted that afternoon was “sex” and I wanted with him.
At some point, he had my hands pinned down and he was mounted on top — similar to the cowgirl position. Without any previous practice or planned thought, something took a hold of me I just started rubbing my crotch up against his. I clearly recall grinding my hard boner (our clothes were on) hard against his. There was no thinking behind any of this, it was all feeling. Oh yeah, my cock was rubbing against something, so I’m fairly certain that his boner was as hard as mine.
I cannot recall how long this grinding lasted — but suddenly he jumped off me. If I recall, he stood up and he seemed to be in a state. There was no anger in his voice, but called me a name, said some words which I don’t recall and left me there on the ground. He might have called me “fag” but the name calling and whatever he said meant nothing. It was his rejection that crushed me.
He ran out of the field and I guess he went home. I gathered up my bike and things and went to my home. I wasn’t ashamed or embarrased, but I was somewhat devastated and extremely confused.
I wanted to feel his bare cock up against mine. I wanted to be bare naked in that grass with him. I wanted him on top of me. I wanted with him under me. I wanted him and I wrapped together. I wanted to have “sex” with him, I guess is what I wanted. Right?
I continued with my paper route for another year or two, but I never saw him again. I never looked for him either. If he had not stopped our grinding, if he had not pulled up, I would very well have experienced my first orgasm in that field on that afternoon. As it was, it took years for me to have my first collaborative orgasm.
I do recall subsequent crushes on other boys and a few similar “wrestling’ experiences but none ever gave me the same rush of intensity as what that boy gave me. There has not been anyone since then who has triggered such hardness or pure sexual desire as did that boy.
Why was I so enraptured with him?. At that time, I had a lot of friends and hung out with most of the boys in my classes and the ones around my house. But none of the boys and certainly none of the girls genererated the intense physical desire that this boy did. He was truly my first crush and over the subsequent 50 years of my life he has remained the most physically intense crush of them all.
Why?
