And my Uncle’s sick sense of humor. Strange meeting, but pleasant. I massage his testicles with my right hand, my left stroking the few inches I cannot take in my mouth. What I thought, felt, everything. Weeks go by, past midterms, and I find myself walking into a coffee shop in a local outdoor mall. Like most college students, you find yourself breaking at some point in the semester and loving that black battery-like backup. HE begins to move in and out very slowly, caressing my face. He giggles, then asks how it feels. Strange meeting, but pleasant. Unlike most of the guys, he was my age and appeared to be somewhat decent, so I started talking to him. He brushes a loose strand of dirty blonde hair from his eye. He laughs and I respond, “Hey I’m nervous cut me some slack! I wrap around him and roll on top. “Yeah, really.” He nods. We clean up then crash on a fresh set of sheets. I playfully glare at him as I try to make it look decent again. And my Uncle’s sick sense of humor. “When it happens, it happens buddy.”
“It happens,” I whisper as I tilt his chin so he looks at me, then slowly kiss his soft warm lips, “now,” I saw after our lips part and
