Terrible Blogger
Okay, you've noticed that I'm a terrible blogger. Somehow, I think that's alright because, in my own opinion, I'm really kind of terrible at a lot of things. Anyway, it's the Fourth of July and we can Let Freedom Ring! Or, hopefully, someday America will be free. At any rate, let me tell you a little more about LoverBottoms:
I'm going to post the entire first book in excerpts here on this blog, installment number three is right here at your fingertips. But first, let me give you an overview. We have six people who are as curious, afraid, adventurous, and timid as any six people can be. They stumble through sex and love and children and middle age like any other six people. They have moments of brilliance, times of sheer stupidity, they work at mundane jobs, fascinating jobs, have accomplished children, and children who cause them nothing but heartache. They make mistakes, they have successes, they cheat on their partners, they get cheated on, and they have their occasional group sex. In short, they're pretty much like all of us. The five parts of LoverBottoms will take you through childhood, young adulthood, becoming parents, parenting young adults, turning middle aged with all the uncertainty it brings, and facing sex and love in our old age, and finally facing the big challenge; the end of life. It's a great series full of fun, humor, tragedy, and focuses on all the things we would really like to have the courage to talk about, but can't. I hope you enjoy.
Part Three
Erections were not only a mystery for girls, but boys as well. Chris was finding out that puberty was not exactly his friend. He kept having these feelings that he couldn’t explain, he kept looking at every female close to him, and he kept wondering why every other boy he knew talked about nothing but sex.
It was ass this and pussy that, and blowjob thrown in for good measure. Chris found himself laughing at jokes he didn’t even understand. He hadn’t felt this confused since his sister sat on his head. Which was a whole other story. She was in high school now, and he was in seventh grade. Thankfully, she didn’t talk to him very much; she was way too cool, and older. Chris didn’t put expectations on her. They had a good relationship, when no one was looking.
But when people were around, she treated him badly, or ignored him altogether. Chris guessed this was just the way it needed to be. He didn’t know much about older sisters, really, and nothing about girls except what the other boys told him. But he was starting to notice them, and he wasn’t opposed to getting to know more about girls.
It was the underwear ads that got to him. He liked looking at them, always had, really. But one day he was looking, alone in the living room, at a department store ad that his mother had left lying out. As he looked at each model very carefully, he noticed a tightening near his pants pocket, looked down, and there it was. He had an erection.
And the damn thing didn’t go away. Chris was a little embarrassed, and very thankful he was home alone. His dad had moved out two years ago and didn’t come around much, but Chris doubted he would have asked anyone what to do with his erect penis. Then, he reached down and rubbed it a little through his pants. That wasn’t so bad, he thought, and decided to do a bit of exploring.
Chris hadn’t started to grow much pubic hair, something he fully expected since that was the one trait of puberty his mother had talked to him about. His sister said his voice would change, but Chris thought she was just trying to scare him. But this, this was a new and rather interesting development that he had heard about from the other boys, but not really experienced until now.
True, it wasn’t his first erection. But it was his first caused solely by looking at scantily clad models. Before it was due to sleep, the need to pee, some type of pressure in the right spot on his scrotum. But those weren’t like this. This was hard and purposeful. Chris took the department store ad and went to his room, making sure the door was shut.
He looked all around, as if the penis police would jump out at any moment and condemn him to masturbation hell for eternity. Chris suddenly remembered every time someone, usually his mother, would move his hand from a spot that was socially embarrassing and tell him to “don’t do that here.” Or his sister would snarl “gross!” and look away in disgust. Chris had learned early not to touch himself when others might see. But lately the thing had become bothersome, and seemed to take more attention than usual, often in public when others might be watching.
But now, alone with his department store ad with women in underwear, and no one around, he couldn’t see the issue. He felt a little strange, and he was glad no one was home, but he really, really wanted to look at the models. Chris had never seen a female without any clothes, and there weren’t any in this ad, but there was skin. Beautiful, soft, silky human female skin, and apparently a lot of it. Chris looked at every picture carefully. On his second time through the pictures, he pulled his pants down and lay back on the bed.
His hand, inexperienced in the art of pleasuring himself but skilled in the ways of his body, soon found spots that were quite agreeable to touch. Chris would have indulged in a sex fantasy if he had known what one was. But what he did know was that to grip there, move up and down here, squeeze at the right time, while looking at the pretty women in the ad, was exciting. So exciting, in fact, that he quite forgot himself. His hand moved faster and faster, his mind going almost blank. He tried to listen for his mother coming in the back door, but soon all he could do was moan a bit and …
And lay stock still in fright. He felt a release and a warm flush, which felt pretty good. But then he realized, in a surge of fear, that there was something warm and sticky on his hand, and on his belly. A Quick glance allowed him to see more of the sticky stuff ooze from the end of his penis. Chris’ eyes got very big, and he thought, “I sure didn’t expect this.”
Guilt somehow ruined his first orgasm. First, he wasn’t exactly sure what had happened even though the other boys talked about “getting a nut” often enough. Chris had never even heard the term “ejaculation” before. Cumming, nutting, blowing a load, those he had heard. Ejaculation he had not. Then, almost in horror, he saw that he had gotten a few drops on the department store ad.
Chris sprang into action. He washed, tucked in his shirt, covered up his penis as much as possible, then took the department store ad out to the trash bin and carefully buried it under two days worth of garbage. Chris took one last look at the women in the pictures before he buried it. If he could have, he would have apologized to the women in the pictures for getting something nasty on them.
Once back in the house with a cool glass of water, his breath coming in gasps, Chris wondered if women thought that stuff was nasty. Or if they thought a penis was nasty. Was he nasty? His sister certainly thought so. Should he be ashamed of what he had just done? Was it normal? Was there something wrong with him? Chris had a lot of questions suddenly, and didn’t know who to ask.
Chris lived with his mother and his sister, his father having moved out a few years back. As time went on, Chris saw his dad less and less. There weren’t many males in Chris’ life for him to talk to. He would have to settle for the more experienced boys at school. Or, as they are commonly known, America’s sex education providers.
Children know little about sex, less about how their bodies work. The best many of them can do is guess, then compare notes and, well, just make stuff up when they don’t know. This has happened for centuries. The human race can’t go on without sex. Petri dishes and sterile fertilization aside, we need to have sex, with each other, in order to continue our species. The most basic, strongest, and necessary drive we will experience, and we can’t talk about it openly. So, the kids talk to each other.
Chris first sought out his best friend, Demitrius, who was called Demi for short. Demi knew as little about sex as Chris did, but was much better about covering up his ignorance. “That’s natural.” Demi said when Chris told him about the strange, sticky substance that his body had produced. Demi, good little masturbator that he was, had the same experience so he actually did know a little about this part. Demi did not, however, know for certain that he and his friend Chris were not just the only two unfortunates to be dying of some strange and as yet unknown disease that makes strange, sticky stuff come out of you. But Demi was too cool to admit his fear. “It’s supposed to happen.” Demi would not have been convincing to anyone but Chris, who was too absorbed in his recent discovery of semen to notice that Demi was glancing around furtively making sure no one could hear what he was saying.
“You sure?” Chris asked skeptically. He really wanted to pull his stuff out and show Demi what he was talking about, but he knew that would have been a bad idea. “It felt kind of strange.”
Now Demi took a deep breath and felt like he was on more solid ground. “I felt the same way, kind of shocked and good at the same time. Is that what you felt?” Demi was Chris’ best friend. They had played together since before they went to school. When Chris’ dad left Demi’s mother had invited Chris to come over often, getting him out of the house and out from under his mother’s feet. Demi’s dad was cool, too, and would throw a football with the boys sometimes. Demi’s mom was a good cook, too, and the only woman Chris knew who could make a sweet potato pie that tasted as good as ejaculation felt. Demi continued, “It kind of scared me the first time, too.”
Chris stopped, suddenly feeling relieved. “You too? I thought there was something wrong with me!” Demi did not feel like this was the time to express his strange illness theory to Chris and decided not to say anything. If they were dying, at least they could die together. Chris then looked at his friend and asked, “The first time?”
Now Demi pulled himself up and took on a prideful air. “Sure. I mean, why wouldn’t I do something that feels that good?” The two boys laughed and ran off the way boys will when they have something to talk about but are too embarrassed to talk about it. Neither one of them knew at the time that this was an honored tradition among all human males; just talk around the subject and don’t talk about it at all. And, God forbid, don’t ask any questions that might make you sound stupid. In short, this was sex education in the modern age.