“You’d better get sucking then” you tell me and I don’t hesitate in manoeuvring myself into position. I start gently with my tongue, just flicking lightly to gain a reaction. You twitch and murmur a sound that indicates your approval and I read it as a green light. I open my mouth wide and sink my throat onto you now, taking the length of you to my tonsils before sucking firmly as I rise off you. Faster and faster I repeat the motion until you’re growing harder and I’m finding it difficult to take all of you. I pause and look up at you, my eyes asking if you’re ready to give me what I need. My eyes telling you so much more than that before I look away because I don’t want you to know how much I need you, how much I wish I could reach you. I lay along side you now and drape my leg over you as you guide yourself into me and my reliable fingers get to work on my swelling clit. You rock gently back and forth patiently waiting for my breaths to quicken. I imagine we’re on a higher level. The dance ended and I walked Rhonda home. It was after 11:00 and we had midnight curfews, so we weren’t talking much as we walked through the Ballard neighborhood where we lived.Then it happened.The backs of our hands touched as we walked along. Once. Twice. The third time they seemed to stick together and we walked with just the backs of our hands touching for nearly two blocks.And we didn’t say a word.I’m not even sure I breathed in that whole time.A sixteen-year-old boy can transfer every nerve ending in his body to a single square inch of skin that is touching a girl for the first time. Not that we’d never touched each other before. But for those two blocks, there was no other reason to be touching each other than that we wanted to.And it completely took my breath away.For forty years after that night, every time I thought of it everything around me stood still and I lived in that square inch of contact. It is the single moment in a lifetime that you realize that someone outside.
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