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Natty knew that most teenagers today walked around with headphones of some sort plugged into their ears, listening to 'their' music but she was totally against it because she thought that most of them would end up deaf before they ever turned thirty.Natty walked across the room until she was standing right behind the couch, her intent was to sneak up and surprise her grandson but when she reached the back of the couch it was she that was surprised instead. The first thing she saw was Billy looking at some sort of a magazine, a magazine whose pages were filled with men and women in all stages of undress and doing unimaginable things with each other, things that she and Charles had done with each other but not things that a seventeen year old boy should be looking at. Then she noticed that Billy's right arm was slowly moving up and down and she realized that she had caught him masturbating. Her first thought was to move away and give the boy some privacy ... but she didn't, instead her. I was developing afascination about other girls. Which would sometimes make myextra parts hard, and get me all tingly inside.In health class they had taught us about homosexuality, so Iguessed I might be one of those girls they called lesbians. Whichdidn't make sense but since it felt so good to hug and kiss othergirls, I quit worrying about it. Mom was really adamant about mystaying a virgin, and I didn't want to catch some weird disease,so my clothes stayed on.Instead of seventh grade, Mom enrolled me in a private girls'school. I lasted three weeks. What a bunch of prissy littlesnots. I was the biggest and tallest seventh-grader, and nearlythe flattest. So I got teased a lot. When one of the eighth-gradegirls, who looked like an ad for a paint store, pinched one of mynipples "to see if I was really a girl", I stuffed her head-firstinto a lunch-room trash can. Several times.She came out looking like a badly tossed salad. And I got tossedout on my ear. So it was back to public.
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As I wait for the drip, drip, drip of the machine, my head begins to race. I feel so full of stories, they leech out of my skin and run onto the page themselves. I pick up the notes from the kitchen table and remind myself where we are, today we will write but not for an hour or so yet. He is still sleeping when I enter the shadows of the bedroom, his long frame thrown across the bed, his face creased into the pillow. I smile. I cannot help it. He’s finally mine and it is so new I feel like I have to pinch myself. I set the coffee silently on his nightstand then grab a bobble to tie back my hair. I slip off the t shirt, and slide back into bed. His breathing shifts but he’s still asleep, just. I shimmy down the bed and find his morning erection, feel the firm warmth against my palm, the skin soft like silk. I know every inch of his cock, the pale pink of the shaft, the rosier red of its head. I allow the tip of my tongue to explore the eye, then the head, in slow luxurious licks. I.

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