Posted by Ryan on September 5, 2005, 9:56 pm, in reply to "Part 1: Dreams of Travel" Some days after class when I didn’t work, I would take a little detour on my way home and go down to the beach nearby. The place was partly developed into a park, but much of it was still undeveloped. There was a trail going along beside the water, and in many places there were little clusters of bushes beside the shore, with woods nearby in some parts. I had never hung out with the rough crowds before; the friends I hung with had always been the kind who listened to their parents, got involved in benevolent causes, said no to drugs and tended to be well behaved (almost always, I should say). But some of us sure became preoccupied with the idea of having sex with girls, and in our adolescence, it was always our secret topic of conversation. And when sexual awakening took place in me, with it re-emerged some of the emotions of my childhood, of times of being a little boy with the little girls who wanted me to show them my little genitals, and times when I did. When I learned to masturbate and got started with it—and then found that I couldn’t stop—I found that my fantasies had to be realistic or they wouldn’t work. You couldn’t just go up to some girl you saw walking along the street and say, “Hey, wanna come have sex with me?” and expect her to just say, “Oh, all rightie!” and hook her arm in yours with a big smile and happily come prancing along with you. Girls just didn’t do that. That wasn’t a realistic fantasy. They had to be believable or I wouldn’t even be able to get off on them. When my friends and I were growing into adolescence, we went through a phase I think most boys go through, secretly talking to each other about fantasy situations where you would be able to have sex with girls. And being young boys, there were a few things about life we hadn’t learned, that everybody has to learn as they grow up, one of which was worrying about the girl’s feelings, not to mention her basic human rights. One time one of these situations we were secretly talking about was: “What if a girl fainted or went unconscious or something? Then you’d get to pull her pants down.” “Yeah, and you could touch her thing....” “Yeah, and you could even do it with her, and she wouldn’t even know it when she woke up.” Yes, it’s true that if a woman is somehow rendered unconscious, it can be done, but what we weren’t taking into consideration was what a serious thing it is. It is a crime, a felony. In fact, legally it is considered rape. Prison—hard time. Well, that was just a case of boys talking and fantasizing in the ignorance of their adolescence, with a lot yet to learn. I have to admit, a few times some of my fantasies involved that situation, as wrong a thing as it was, of being with a girl who had fallen unconscious for some reason, then undressing her and taking liberties with her—a very unhealthy thought for a boy to have going through his mind—but according to what the other boys at school were saying, they were all having the same fantasy too, sometimes. None of us in my circle of friends were ever involved in crimes of any kind (unless you want to count indecent exposure for me), and eventually we all grew up and began to learn, as we went through health class, and as the enigmatic mystery surrounding sex began to melt away, that there are some ways you can fulfill sexual desire and some ways you can’t; that there were some desires that shouldn’t even be entertained during masturbatory fantasies, not by a healthy person, as they were trying to teach us to be. I never did any such thing as that, or much else that was very far off-center from what society would have considered acceptable, but unfortunately, somehow the craving for exhibitionism was one thing that stuck with me, and I spent much of my life having a terrible time kicking it. Once when I was in my teens I did witness a case of two girls being unconscious—and I learned something else about my sexual function: that is, that fear kills it; wipes it out and kills it dead on the spot. One week that summer there was a sudden heat wave, where it had been one moderate temperature and then suddenly jumped up 20 or 30 degrees higher. Some friends and I went downtown to an amusement park where everyone was enjoying themselves in the hot weather. There was a huge crowd of people. I had used the restroom and was coming back to where the rest of the group was, and suddenly as I walked through the crowd, I noticed there was an aid unit there, and two paramedics were kneeling down on the grass. I wondered why, and then I noticed there were two girls, maybe late teens or early twenties, lying on the grass with their eyes closed. Suddenly I was frightened. What had happened to them? Were their lives in danger? My heart started beating. I asked the paramedic who was working on them what happened. “Oh, they just passed out from the heat,” she replied, not seeming worried about it. She was massaging the hand and arm of one of them, and then the unconscious girl took hold of her hand, still with her eyes closed. “She’s grasping my hand,” the paramedic calmly reported into her radio. I guessed I could relax if the paramedics seemed to think it wasn’t serious and I could see that the girl was starting to move and was about to regain consciousness. But brother, I tell you, sex was the last thing in the world I could possibly have been thinking about at a moment like that. I had been scared! Blood had been pumping all around my body, and in my whole corporal structure, the erectile tissues were the last place any of it was available for. That was years earlier, but I learned from that that when I’m frightened, sex is the last thing my body can think about—so much for that childhood fantasy. Now fast-forward back to the present: That day when I was sitting at the kegger with the teenage kids—and having one or two myself, even though I wasn’t 21 yet (and even if I had been, it’s still illegal to be drinking it in public like that)—we were sitting there talking, and I noticed that when the guys had to urinate, they would just go up to the bushes and let it out, right in front of all the girls who were there, and the girls, instead of being horror-stricken and running off to call the police, as might be considered a normal reaction in our society, just sat there and smirked, accepting that this was something that was done at kegger parties. (Nothing was showing, because their backs were turned, but the girls were able to see the stream of urine squirting out into the bushes.) Beer produces urine. The girls were drinking it too, and I don’t know what they did, since they would have to pull their pants down when they had to go. Maybe they went off and found places where the bushes were denser, and relieved themselves there; I didn’t notice, I wasn’t thinking about it. Having keggers and chug-a-lugging beer in quantities like that (or at all, even) is an activity parents don’t generally approve of their kids doing. In most cases, kids who choose to do it know they’re going against what their parents would permit. And when a whole group of kids gets together to do something they all know is forbidden, standards of conduct begin to go down in other areas too, and sometimes some things begin to get taken as accepted behavior that otherwise would not be. Because the whole gathering was forbidden, both by their parents as well as by the law, the teens there weren’t about to go telling on anybody for anything. They knew if they did they’d be in trouble too, just for being there to begin with. The idea began to occur to me that if I had to go, I could squirt it into the bushes in front of the girls too. I walked around, and I noticed there were several fallen logs people were sitting on, drinking beer and talking, in several different places. In some of the places there were bits of shrubbery that weren’t very thick, and if a guy were to urinate there, the girls sitting facing the bush would be able to see them. It didn’t take me long to figure out that when the time came, I could go to that spot, pull it out to pee, and get it seen by them. I drank a few, waited till I had to, and then when I did, I went to that spot and nonchalantly pulled it out in front of some of the girls who were sitting there. They smirked, chuckled, and yes, several of them got an eyeful. (How fun!) Link: Post a response
Message modified by board administrator September 6, 2005, 9:50 am
(Originally posted November 7, 2003, 6:44 pm)
One time I came to one closed-off area beside the shore, and there was a group of teenagers hanging out there with a keg of beer, drinking, smoking and enjoying themselves. I stopped, sat down on the log and started talking with them.
