..“So...what’ve you got next then?” I asked randomly. Still not getting anywhere fast though“I’ve got PE all afternoon”“Boy...that must be...interesting...”the thought of 20-odd boys getting sweaty in changing rooms suddenly distracted me. But little did I know that he’d noticed my sign. “You’re telling me, the guys in that changing room hardly let me look at anything. They’d blindfold me if they could” He’d finally looked me in the face, and I could see in his bright blue eyes the truth in him.“Oh so you’re...”“Gay? You haven’t heard yet? I’m sure they would have spread it to you too”“Well that makes two of us” I said innocently. I restarted spooning at my soup until I realised that he was looking at me. I turned back to him and he was grinning wildly, his eyes glowing with excitement. I returned his stare and little did we realise that we were being watched, and a murmur of excitement arose in the lunch hall. When we both realised we were the centre of attention, the gazing broke to. Alone I was more relaxed. I enjoyed watching myself undress in a mirror. Sometimes I even took a hand mirror and put it between my legs to study myself ‘down there.’ In bed, I’d caress my nipples and pinch my labia. It was good, very, very good–although I hadn’t quite managed a full-blown orgasm. All that changed the summer I visited Aunt Wendy’s cattle ranch in eastern Wyoming. On the drive back from the airport, Aunt Wendy pulled a small silver flask from the glove compartment of her pickup. ‘Darlin’, meet my best friend Johnny Walker,’ she said passing it to me. ‘Have a slug.’ Aunt Wendy was a year older than my Dad. As children, they were Army brats, shuffling between military bases every few years. By High School, however, their personalities were becoming very different. Aunt Wendy was wild and wayward, my Dad was shy and studious. They were living in Wyoming when Aunt Wendy got pregnant and married a rancher’s son. I knew my parents didn’t entirely approve of Aunt Wendy, which.
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