Obama’s “Safe School” Czar Promotes Teaching Fisting to Teens. Personally Hid Report of Pedophilia

Kevin Jennings has been appointed as director of the Office of Safe and Drug Free Schools under Obama. Here's a bit of his bio:

In 1997, according to a transcript put together by Brian J. Burt, managing editor of the student-run Harvard Journal of Law and Public Policy, Jennings said he hoped that promoting homosexuality in schools would be considered fine in the future.

The group Jennings founded has also been accused of promoting homosexuality in schools. At a GLSEN conference in 2000, co-sponsored with the Massachusetts Department of Education, the group landed in hot water when it was revealed that it had included an educational seminar for kids that graphically described some unorthodox sex techniques.

"Fisting (forcing one's entire hand into another person's rectum or vagina) often gets a bad rap....[It's] an experience of letting somebody into your body that you want to be that close and intimate with...[and] to put you into an exploratory mode."

That's not the worst of it, I'm afraid. Jennings admits not reporting a child's sexual abuse:

As a teacher, he knew a high school sophomore named Brewster who was "involved" with an "older man":

"Out spilled a story about his involvement with an older man he had met in Boston. I listened, sympathized, and offered advice. He left my office with a smile on his face that I would see every time I saw him on the campus for the next two years, until he graduated."

The account led Diane Lenning, head of the National Education Association's Republican Educators Caucus, to criticize Jennings in 2004 for not alerting school and state authorities about the boy's situation, calling Jennings' failure to do so an "unethical practice."

Jennings threatened to sue Lenning for libel, saying she had no evidence that he knew the student in question was sexually active, or that he failed to report the situation.

But a professor at Grove City College in Pennsylvania, Warren Throckmorton, has produced an audio recording of a speech Jennings gave in 2000 at a GLSEN rally in Iowa, in which Jennings made it clear that he believed the student was sexually active:

"I said, 'What were you doing in Boston on a school night, Brewster?' He got very quiet, and he finally looked at me and said, 'Well I met someone in the bus station bathroom and I went home with him.' High school sophomore, 15 years old' I looked at Brewster and said, 'You know, I hope you knew to use a condom.'" [Audio is available on the professor's Web site.]

The Washington Times reported in 2004 that "state authorities said Mr. Jennings filed no report in 1988." A spokeswoman for the Massachusetts Department for Children and Families, the department to which Jennings -- as a Massachusetts teacher -- would have been legally obliged to report the situation, did not return calls from FOXNews.com.

Jennings is just another radical in a line of radicals found in this administration. Remember, Obama told you, "Judge me by the people who surround me."

Safe Schools Czar Kevin Jennings was the founder, and for many years,
Executive Director of an organization called the Gay, Lesbian and
Straight Education Network (GLSEN). GLSEN started essentially as
Jennings’ personal project and grew to become the culmination of his
life’s work. And he was chosen by President Obama to be the nation’s
Safe Schools Czar primarily because he had founded and led GLSEN
(scroll for bio).

GLSEN’s stated mission is to empower gay youth in the schools and to
stop harassment by other students. It encourages the formation of Gay
Student Alliances and condemns the use of hateful words. GLSEN also
strives to influence the educational curriculum to include materials
which the group believes will increase tolerance of gay students and
decrease bullying. To that end, GLSEN maintains a recommended reading
list of books that it claims “furthers our mission to ensure safe
schools for all students.” In other words, these are the books that
GLSEN’s directors think all kids should be reading: gay kids should
read them to raise their self-esteem, and straight kids should read
them in order to become more aware and tolerant and stop bullying gay
kids. Through GLSEN’s online ordering system, called “GLSEN BookLink,”
featured prominently on their Web site, teachers can buy the books to
use as required classroom assignments, or students can buy them to
read on their own.

According to GLSEN’s own press releases from the period during which
its recommended reading list was developed, the organization’s three
areas of focus were creating “educational resources, public policy
agenda, [and] student organizing programs”; in other words, the
reading list (chief among its “educational resources”) was of prime
importance in GLSEN’s efforts to influence the American educational
system.

The list is divided into three main categories: books recommended for
grades K-6; books recommended for grades 7-12; and books for teachers.
(The books on the list span all genres: fiction, nonfiction, memoirs,
even poetry.)

Out of curiosity to see exactly what kind of books Kevin Jennings and
his organization think American students should be reading in school,
our team chose a handful at random from the over 100 titles on GLSEN’s
grades 7-12 list, and began reading through.

What we discovered shocked us. We were flabbergasted. Rendered speechless.

We were unprepared for what we encountered. Book after book after book
contained stories and anecdotes that weren’t merely X-rated and
pornographic, but which featured explicit descriptions of sex acts
between pre-schoolers; stories that seemed to promote and recommend
child-adult sexual relationships; stories of public masturbation, anal
sex in restrooms, affairs between students and teachers,
five-year-olds playing sex games, semen flying through the air. One
memoir even praised becoming a prostitute as a way to increase one’s
self-esteem. Above all, the books seemed to have less to do with
promoting tolerance than with an unabashed attempt to indoctrinate
students into a hyper-sexualized worldview.

We knew that unless we carefully documented what we were reading, the
public would have a hard time accepting it. Mere descriptions on our
part could not convey the emotional gut reaction one gets when seeing
what Kevin Jennings wants kids to read as school assignments. So we
began scanning pages from each of the books, and then made exact
transcriptions of the relevant passages on each page.

Are we exaggerating, or misconstruing quotes that could be interpreted
a different way? No: Read the passages below and judge for yourself.
There’s no wiggle room. The language is explicit, the intent clear.

To be specific, the books we read were:

Queer 13

Being Different

The Full Spectrum

Revolutionary Voices

Reflections of a Rock Lobster

Passages of Pride

Growing Up Gay/Growing Up Lesbian

The Order of the Poison Oak

In Your Face

Mama’s Boy, Preacher’s Son

Love & Sex: Ten Stories of Truth

We can only vouch for what’s in these 11 books, since these are the
only ones we’ve read through. Are there other books on the GLSEN
reading list that are similarly outrageous? We can’t say for sure, but
it seems very likely. What you see excerpted below is probably only
the tip of the iceberg.

Let it be clear: This issue has nothing to do with gayness or
straightness, which is irrelevant to this report. The point proven
here is that the GLSEN reading list promotes the sexualization of
children in general, regardless of the “orientation.”

And this is not about censorship: It’s about deciding what constitutes
appropriate reading material for children. We’re perfectly OK with
these books existing and being read by adults; we only start to worry
when these books are assigned to children. All sorts of books are
excluded from school reading lists, for all sorts of reasons. Even
many books once considered classics are now considered off-limits due
to language or attitudes now deemed inappropriate. And yet, according
to Kevin Jennings and GLSEN, books about a 13-year-old getting “my
cock sucked and my ass fucked” or about a teenager enjoying the
“exquisite bitter taste” of his friend’s semen are not just
acceptable, they’re highly recommended. As GLSEN’s own site says, “All
BookLink items are reviewed by GLSEN staff for quality and
appropriateness of content.” Really? (Note: GLSEN does advise adults
to “review content for suitability.”)

Although GLSEN does not address how books get added to its list, it’s
hard to imagine that they are chosen by low-level staffers or
volunteers, with no oversight. Since the list of recommended books is
one of the organization’s primary tools (”The GLSEN BookLink, an
online library of recommended resources, along with the Safe Space
program remain cornerstones of GLSEN’s education work.” source), it’s
likely that the books were chosen carefully. Kevin Jennings stepped
down as Executive Director last year after leading GLSEN since its
inception, but every single book mentioned in this report was added to
the list while Jennings was in charge (dates are given for each
title’s addition to the list). Therefore, it’s reasonable to believe
he was aware of the addition of these works – especially since most
were added when GLSEN was still quite small and the Executive Director
had a hands-on role in daily operations.

Below you will find dozens of excerpts taken from books on the GLSEN
“Booklink” recommended reading list for grades 7-12 (i.e. for children
between the ages of 12 and 17). To prove that these books are indeed
recommended by GLSEN for children, click on each book’s title to see
its individual listing on the GLSEN Web site. And to prove that each
excerpt is transcribed exactly as it appears in each book, click on
the page numbers or the small images along the left to see scans taken
directly of the book pages in question. (Ellipses [”...”] indicate
unrelated passages not included in some of the transcriptions; click
on the full-page scans to see the complete extended quotes.) Each
passage is preceded by a brief summary, given in italics.

You decide for yourself if you think these are appropriate for kids as
young as 12 years old to read. And then decide if you think the man
who headed the organization responsible for recommending these books
to children should be in charge of school safety in this country.

Content Warning:

Keep in mind that, although the material below has been deemed by
Kevin Jennings and GLSEN to be appropriate for children, some of the
excerpts contain explicit language and pornographic descriptions, so
if you don’t want to see such things, stop reading now.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 13

(At the age of six, the author frequently performed fellatio on his
fellow first-graders in the school restroom, part of a “busy
homosexual childhood.”)

My sexual exploits with my neighborhood playmates continued. I lived a
busy homosexual childhood, somehow managing to avoid venereal disease
through all my toddler years. By first grade I was sexually active
with many friends. In fact, a small group of us regularly met in the
grammar school lavatory to perform fellatio on one another. A typical
week’s schedule would be Aaron and Michael on Monday during lunch;
Michael and Johnny on Tuesday after school; Fred and Timmy at noon
Wednesday; Aaron and Timmy after school on Thursday. None of us ever
got caught, but we never worried about it anyway. We all understood
that what we were doing was not to be discussed freely with adults but
we viewed it as a fun sort of confidential activity. None of us had
any guilty feelings about it; we figured everyone did it. Why
shouldn’t they?

Queer 13 – Pages 16 + 17

(A man masturbates and explicitly ejaculates as he sits on a hill
overlooking his hometown.)

I sit down on the hard ground and cry a little. I fish my aged cock
out of my jeans as though I can mark the scene with pleasure so later
I can find it and reread it for understanding. Once imagined, it is my
responsibility to jack off in front of it all. The air feels funny on
my cock, which usually squirms like a larva in the darkness; it’s more
sensitive than I am to the prickle of a slight breeze. There is
nothing to arouse me except myself. My tract looks so boring, its
emptiness so lacks potential, that I can almost believe in reality,
since here is appearance spreading out at my feet. It only takes a
minute. My crotch rings like an alarm clock, some pump mechanism kicks
in, and after short flights my sperm falls on the gray dirt. I feet
edgy and shallow, emptied out by the day ahead, and twinges of
residual pleasure make me twitch.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 103

(An illustration about the change from “boy to man,” showing two Boy
Scouts pointing at and looking at two adult men engaging in anal sex.)

A Process of Change, etching, 38 x 35.5 cm, 1999

Queer 13 – Pages 43, 44 + 45

(A 13-year-old boy has a violent sexual encounter with an older man,
which causes the boy to become desperate for sex, and he ends up
spending the rest of the year promiscuously getting “my cock sucked
and my ass fucked” by “a seemingly endless supply of dicks” belonging
to older men, concluding with “I really did enjoy those sexual
encounters.”)

One day, on the bus to shop class, this ugly fuck of a man sat behind
me and put his foot in the crack of my seat. He was skinny, with a
patchy, pencil-thin mustache that besotted his oily face. I ignored
him for most of the trip. I did notice that he changed buses when I
did, but this time he sat beside me. He tried a little small talk, but
then he suddenly and very nervously put his hand on my crotch. It
never occurred to me to tell him not to. I’m not sure if I agreed to
it or not, but he managed to get me to follow him to a nearby rest
room at another secondary school “to play.” In the bathroom stall, lit
by two scant rows of fluorescent lights, half of them burnt-out or
flickering, he tried to kiss me, but I was too nauseated to do that.
He sucked my nipples and played with my cock. I had no idea what to
do. He then tried to get me to suck his. Somehow I knew this was
expected of me, but I just could not put his ugly, foul-smelling penis
into my mouth. When he forced it in I gagged so hard I started
vomiting. Undaunted, he tried to put his cock in my ass. Thankfully,
he came prematurely. He pulled up his trousers and left me in the
toilet stall confused, frightened, crying, and praying to God for
forgiveness of my horrible sin. I spent a good deal of time locked in
the stall, trying to clean up, trying to wipe the smell of that act
off with wet toilet paper, but I was doused in the stench of that man
and what he had done.

This incident should have soured me on men, but it only made me more
confused and needful. One day later, something accidental happened
that would change my life. I discovered that at a urinal I could
actually see someone else’s penis. I was ecstatic and fearful, but I
wanted more. One day, at a local shopping mall, as I was trying to
sneak a peek at penises in the rest rooms, a man at the urinal
actually turned to me and started playing with himself. He flashed me
a gold-toothed smirk and motioned for me to come over. Shocked, I
zippered up and ran out, but the seeds had been laid. The whole world
of rest-room sex had opened itself up to me.

Soon I was spending a great deal of time hanging out in shopping malls
and cruising the rest rooms for sexual encounters. My rest-room
exploits started to be a great burden on my mind. The better part of
the year was spent making deals with God, asking for a sign, then
ignoring and rationalizing everything I perceived to be a sign,
praying for forgiveness, and being obsessed with raging hormones and a
seemingly endless supply of dicks. I believed that it was all part of
a test by God to see if I was a sinner. I was.

I had known before that something was up, and that I was attracted to
men, but this toilet thing was a whole new realm of sin and Satan, a
new level that I had never before imagined. The following years were
spent praying for forgiveness and trying to purge my homosexuality
through prayer and Bible study. While my classmates wondered what sex
was like, content to masturbate over pinups, I was out there having my
cock sucked and my ass fucked. These were grown men I was tricking
with. Some were nice, grateful for a young boy to have their way with.
Some were harsh and mean. There were a few nasty encounters, brutal
and painful experiences, near-rapes, but through it all, I never
thought that I had the ability to say no.

I was scared about what I was doing, scared of God’s judgment and of
being caught in all those rest rooms and parks, but I really did enjoy
those sexual encounters. That feeling of doing it to them and them
doing the same for me was just too damn good.

Queer 13 – Page 13

(The author vividly describes masturbating and ejaculating whenever
and wherever possible, at the age of 13.)

Jacking off into the toilet, into the slit between pushed-together
beds, into paper-towel tubes (Ugh, my little sister shouts, what’s
this stuff?), in the shower, while standing in the crotch of a tree,
while standing on my head. What belongs to me except the next orgasm?
Even shame is not mine. I can’t afford to fantasize or to connect mind
and body. Strip poker with Mike Cogan: Since we’re naked, we might as
well masturbate. Don’t look, he keeps whining. His orgasm is like him,
a pipsqueak.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 220

(A writer is unhappy that she was forced to stop masturbating in
public when she turned nine years old.)

I learned the truth about Santa Claus and masturbation in the same
year. I was 9. I had a hunch about Santa, but I had no clue about
masturbation. I mean, I had no clue there was anything wrong with it.
As far as I know, I’ve been masturbating my whole life. But it wasn’t
until 9 that I realized it was an impulse that you had to turn off.
Especially in class. Fourth grade craft time taught me shame.

Revolutionary Voices – Pages 171, 172 + 176

(An interview with a “sex worker” who praises prostitution as a way to
raise one’s self-esteem and have empowering sexual experiences.)

Minal is a young queer from India and has been a sex worker in the S/M
scene for a year and a half. He has taken a break from sex work and
lives in San Francisco. In this interview Minal talks about his
journey into sex work as a way of uplifting his self-esteem around
body-image issues, his feeling of empowerment doing sex work in drag…

…

S: How did you get into sex work?

M: Well, before I get into that I have to tell you how I got into S/M
generally, since I used to be a complete vanilla bottom. I’m gay, by
the way; I’m exploring being transgendered, and I’ve been doing drag
for about ten years, on and off. Drag was never a sexual thing for me,
I’ve always had sex “as a guy.” Around March of last year a friend
asked me about rape fantasies—she wanted to know what my fantasies
were. I realized I hadn’t been fantasizing at all. When I did start
thinking about it, my fantasies were all about whipping. I started
reading up on S/M, and it was making me interested in sex for the
first time. Before, I never knew what the big deal was with sex. I put
a personal ad in the paper to do scenes with different people, and I
realized that for what I was doing, I could be getting good money. I
had a lot of friends in the sex industry who were asking me, “Why
aren’t you charging for what you’re doing?”

So that summer I did it for free and learned what I needed to do, and
by November I started putting out ads in the Bay Area Reporter. My ads
were sort of genderfuck: my picture was taken from the neck down in a
corset, fishnets and garter belt. It was a dom-type look. I realized
there weren’t that many guys into doing S/M professionally, and the
ones that were were really butch—so I stood out a lot. It was great.
It was the first time I had really good sex, I was getting paid for
it, and I felt totally in control. It was good, but I was wondering
how many people I was losing by advertising as a fem dom. I started
putting ads online without the fem look and got a lot more response,
so I switched to just having a nude picture in the paper as opposed to
a girlish one. The responses were more than I could handle, which is a
good thing. That’s how I got into sex work, as a way of exploring my
sexuality.

…

S: How has your self-image improved from doing sex work?

M: I feel a lot more confident and secure with myself. I think that
has a lot to do with S/M and coming into my own power.

In Your Face – Page 150

(The author describes how a sudden and impulsive sexual encounter was
the healthiest relationship he’s ever had, then regrets the incestuous
relationship he had with his cousin.)

But I know in the immediate future I want a very healthy relationship,
because I’ve never really had a healthy relationship. The closest I’ve
had was with a guy that I met at the lake when we lived in Davenport.
I just met him at the lake, and he already had a boyfriend and stuff.
I just walked up to him and said, “Do you want to fuck?” and we did.
For a week. And then I went home because I couldn’t handle it anymore.
The relationship I had with my cousin was very, very twisted, and I
didn’t like hiding it. I mean, he was my cousin, and so it feels
rather disgusting. But I think that you’re gonna fall in love with
whomever you’re gonna fall in love with.

Passages of Pride – Pages 33, 34 + 35

(A 15-year-old boy embarks on an intense sexual relationship with a
much older adult man.)

Near the end of summer, just before starting his sophomore year in
high school, Dan picked up a weekly Twin Cities newspaper. Scanning
the classifieds, he came upon an ad for a “Man-2-Man” massage. Home
alone one day, he called the telephone number listed in the ad and set
up an appointment to meet a man named Tom. Tom offered to drive to
Zimmerman. So, over the phone, Dan directed him to a secluded road in
his subdivision. “Stop where the pavement ends,” Dan told him.

A couple of nights later, Dan pulled the broken screen from his
bedroom window and slipped out of the house while his parents slept.
He hurried to the prearranged rendezvous spot, and there, in the dark
of night, he met Tom for the first time, man-to-man. In the back of
Tom’s van, the two had sex.

“He gave me a little shoulder rub and the next thing I knew his hands
were all over me,” Dan remembers. “It wasn’t a bad thing. I didn’t
necessarily know it would turn into sex. But I knew what I was doing.”

Dan continued his liaisons with Tom throughout the summer and into the
following school year, having sex—usually masturbation and oral
sex—with Tom in his van or his Minneapolis apartment.

…
Even though Tom was older, almost twice Dan’s age, Dan felt
unthreatened by him. Dan admits Tom was a “troll” in every sense of
the word—an older closeted gay man seeking sex with a man much
younger. But Dan says he was not intimidated by the discrepancy in
their ages. “He kind of had me in a corner in that he knew I didn’t
have access to anything I wanted.” says Dan. “But everything was
consensual.”

…

“He wasn’t exactly a friend,” Dan says of his relationship with Tom.
“He wasn’t exactly a lover. He wasn’t exactly a role model. He wasn’t
exactly anything. What I got out of it was sex, and someone who made
me feel nice for once. Sex was a totally different way to feel good.
It was a very easy way to get away from the pain. I was young. He
brought me down to the city, where I wanted to be. And I was very
young.”

Revolutionary Voices – Page 7

(A poem in which the author fantasizes about amputating his penis in
order to become a woman.)

as a little boy growing up, i used ta sit in the bathtub, take the
little spikey thing u put soap on, n lay on it, press my little
pre-pubescent dick on it hard, impale myself, sometimes until i bled.

then i’d take it, bloodied n bruised, n tuck it between my legs,
standing in front of the mirror, pushing the fat that wuz my chest
together, seeing what it would b like ta have cleavage, thinking

perhaps i could escape my fate by becoming a woman, i wondered what
it’d b like ta have a pussy, what it would b like ta cut it off, ta
simply not have it around no more.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Pages 25 + 26

(Two twelve-year-old boys turn up the volume on a Christian song to
drown out the noises of them having sex.)

I began sleeping over at Bob’s house again during seventh grade. His
mother thought we enjoyed a perfectly platonic relationship in his
room upstairs playing games and listening to Jim Nabors records – the
only ones she allowed Bob to hear.

Little did she know that every night I slept over we would turn the
record player loud and have sex to the beat of “Lord, You Gave Me a
Mountain.”

In Your Face – Pages 58 + 59

(The narrator describes how at the age of 16 he began having sex with
a 25-year-old man he met at a gay youth group.)

I don’t remember exactly when I started coming out, but I joined this
youth group called Positive Images; it’s the Sonoma County
gay/lesbian/bisexual youth group. I got a boyfriend instantly; he
picked me up right away, right when I joined the group. He was older;
he was twenty-five, I was sixteen. He was just really supportive of
me. I went with him to this gay prom in Sonoma County called the
Rainbow Prom in the middle of May.

…

So there was one night when I stayed at my boyfriend’s house. I lost
my virginity to him a couple weeks before that, and so I stayed at his
house, and I was feeling good when I went home the next day. It was
the first time that I actually spent the night there and stayed the
whole night. So I went home and I was in a great mood.

Passages of Pride – Page 92

(A woman recalls how as a teenager she had a sexual affair with an
adult teacher at her high school, which greatly boosted the girl’s
self-esteem.)

While still in high school, she had an affair with a teacher. “She was
forty-four and had a daughter who was a year younger than me, who went
to my school. Needless to say, it was all very confusing, but exciting
as well. The moment right after we kissed for the first time, I ran to
the mirror and looked at myself. I was ecstatic. I thought I would
look different. I said in a barely audible whisper, ‘I’m a lesbian.’
About six months later, we stopped being physically sexual, at my
request. I was racked with guilt feelings and knew that it was out of
control. I was terrified of someone finding out….”

Growing Up Gay/Growing Up Lesbian – Pages 93, 97, 98, 99 + 100

(A gay priest recalls a life-changing incident at the age of ten, when
he “felt my penis begin to harden” after meeting a new friend, after
which the author “touched the flesh of his cock.”)

One summer when I was about ten, my mother and I spent several weeks
at a big resort hotel in the Adirondack Mountains in northern New York
State. …

…

Strange how all foreboding vanished when I first caught sight of Jamie
checking into the hotel with his mother and father. The desire I felt
for him was sudden and electric. …

…

As we changed in the dressing room by the swimming pool, I glanced
very quickly to find out what his genitals looked like, but his back
was turned to me as he slipped on his trunks. Still I knew I’d find
out, somehow. …

…

I remember the fright I felt when there was no more to take off but my
underpants, the strange sense of relief when I stood naked by the
shadowed pool, the throat-tightening excitement of seeing Jamie’s
slight lithe body, as naked as mine.

We tucked our clothes under the embankment. Then, with a whoop, Jamie
dived into the pool. I stood on the pool’s edge, watched Jamie’s body
squirming beneath the water’s surface, and felt my penis begin to
harden.

Jamie broke the surface with a splash and looked at me. A quick grin
crossed his face. “Dive in! It’s great!”

I glanced down and saw that my cock was fully erected.

…

“C’mon, we’ll wrestle. that’ll warm you up.” He grabbed me around the
neck and pushed me back on the sand. The warmth of his body sent
chills through mine. I struggled (although not very convincingly, I’m
afraid) against his grip and we rolled on the sand and I finally
pinioned him on his back, astride him, my hands holding his arms.

He looked up at me. “Uncle,” he whispered.

I released his arms. They glided around my neck, pulling my head down
to his. I stretched full length on top of him, our heads touching. Our
heavy breathing from the struggle gradually subsided. I felt my penis
grow hard against his body, and, pressed against mine, I felt his grow
hard too. I raised my head and looked at his face. He was looking at
me. After a long moment I lowered my head till our lips touched. And
held.

Then I moved over on my side next to him, and my hand reached down,
slowly, until I touched the flesh of his cock. It stiffened still more
and Jamie’s hips stirred. I felt a wonder. I had caused this to happen
to someone else. Someone else felt as I did. I wasn’t alone. There was
Jamie. And now we had our secret.

We shared the wonder of that secret, touching, exploring, responding,
till we heard voices—adult voices—calling our names.

Queer 13 – Pages 86 + 87

(The author recalls with mixed emotions the sexual relationship he had
with his cousin starting at the age of 12.)

Despite my best efforts, someday the artifice of “normality” had to
fall away. It did, early one Sunday afternoon when I was twelve. My
cousin was sixteen.

I put on my blue velour robe and padded down the rickety stairs. My
cousin was watching an old black-and-white movie on our
black-and-white TV set. He wore only his Ewing High School J.V.
basketball shorts, black with waxy yellow lettering. I sat next to him
on the couch, silent. He would occasionally sneak glances at me. The
glances grew longer and longer.

I noticed his slightly parted thick lips. Uncomfortable, I stood up
and went to the front door. I pretended to look out the window up
Field Avenue. The street was empty.

My cousin got up from the couch and stood behind me. He lightly
brushed the soft fabric of my robe. “Let’s get gay,” he fawned in a
mock faggy tone. “Let’s get gay.” He rubbed his huge hands over the
thin fabric that separated them from my behind. He pulled up the robe.

Exposed and naked, my erection to the wind, I wanted to melt into his
arms, to be held by him, to desperately answer the questions my soul
had been avoiding, but I also wanted to shield my eyes from what was
happening.

We went back to the couch, and I felt someone’s hands on my genitals
for the first time. They were boiling—his hands and my genitals. I sat
back and closed my eyes.

My ecstasy from his touch. My relief from loneliness. Momentarily
overcoming fear and shame. Then, the fall. Each of the half-dozen
times we did it over the next four years it would be that way. While
we were in the act, it was good. His heavy brown body lying against
mine, providing the warmth I never thought I would have. He was tender
and sweet. But after I came, shame tumbled on top of me, the pleasure
buried, suffocated. The disgraceful white goo the physical proof of my
spiritual delinquency.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Pages 13 + 14

(At the age of six, the author played “sex therapist” with a
five-year-old friend, and “explored our sexuality to its fullest.”)

One friend I was very close to was Billy Marlen. Billy was a year
behind me in school yet we got along well together. In our friendship,
a special camaraderie existed that was rare in my other friendships.
There was a brotherhood that does not often occur even between
brothers. We shared our toys and spent many summer days building
sandcastles on the beach. On rainy days I’d walk down to Billy’s house
where we spent the day reading books and building racetracks and
playing sex therapist in his basement. We were human beings who knew
no social inhibitions and were willing to explore our sexuality to its
fullest.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 15

(The author describes his promiscuous sex life while in elementary school.)

Sex continued for me but it was not the same as it was with Billy. It
was always readily available after school, during school, at cub
scouts, at Sunday School or at summer camp, but that certain element
that Billy added was gone.

In Your Face – Page 141

(The narrator describes the sexual relations he had with various adult
men when he was 16 years old.)

I was dating this twenty-five-year-old guy. But then we broke up,
because I was messing around with this other guy who was a friend of
his, this twenty-seven-year-old, and I was only sixteen. It wasn’t
really a right thing, I don’t think, because I knew they were only
attracted to me because I was young, and it wasn’t even like they were
attracted to me because of my personality or anything like that. So I
dated the twenty-seven-year-old for a little bit, and then we broke
up, and I got back together with my old boyfriend, and then we broke
up again.

When I was with my first boyfriend, we went to a rave; I felt like we
could dance together and stuff, and we could kiss and it was cool. But
I still felt kind of weird. I used him. And when I was with him, I was
really out. I would hold hands everywhere, kiss in public. But it
wasn’t so much that I wanted to be kissing him as much as I wanted to
be able to be that out; I wanted to get comfortable with it.

I met this one guy in the city, and he came up with us, back up to
Petaluma, and we hung out that night. We just totally talked. He was
this really cool person. We had sex, and it was really good—five hours
of foreplay. That was rad, and I just felt like I could talk to him,
like we could really relate. So he came back down to the city, and
then I called him that night, or I called him the next day or
something, and asked him to come up, and so he rode the bus up, stayed
at my house that night, and we had sex again.

He was just rad; he had the body type that I like, a little pale and
kind of scrawny–kinda skaterish, like a toned-all-over body. Anyway,
so then he went back to the city, and I was supposed to come down to
the city and stay at his house on Friday. I called his house and his
roommate said, “Maddy doesn’t live here anymore; he went back to
Michigan.” He never called me and he’s never called me or written me
since then. It was really fucked. I even think that I am in love with
him because I just think about him every day. I don’t even know if
I’ve ever been in love before this.

Passages of Pride – Page 4

(Beginning at the age of five, a young child has sexual encounters
with his playmates.)

Throughout his childhood, from age five on, Derek would sneak off with
a friend into someone’s basement or the woods along the back alley,
where they would take off their pants and play with each other,
usually fondling each other’s genitals. It became habitual.

“At that time, I didn’t quite have a name for it,” says Derek. “It was
something that I liked doing, that felt good, that I wanted to do as
often as I could. The other kids always recognized it as being
something bad and dirty. And all I wanted to know was, When can we do
it again?”

Growing Up Gay/Growing Up Lesbian – Pages 110 + 111

(A man recounts how he had his first sexual experience at age 12, and
then recalls fondly the anal sex he had at fifteen with a much older
man.)

“I just remember, when I was twelve or so, Derek walking into my room
and finding me making out with Timmy Musseo. And he just said excuse
me and closed the door.”

Philip’s jaw dropped. “You were making out with boys when you were twelve?”

“Eleven,” Eliot said. “Geoffrey and Derek only found out when I was twelve.”

“Then how old were you when you first had sex?”

Eliot shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he said. “How do you define sex? If
orgasm is the criterion, twelve. If anal or oral penetration is
necessary, fifteen.”

“And was that with Timmy Musseo?”

“No, no,” Eliot said “Timmy Musseo had a girlfriend by that time. My
first experience was with a much older man, a friend of Derek’s. He
and Geoffrey never found out about it. Probably they still don’t
know.”

“How old is older?”

“Oh, let’s see,” Eliot said. “When I was fifteen, he must have been
twenty-nine, thirty. My age now. He came and stayed with me at the
house whenever Derek and Geoffrey went away.”

“Did he seduce you?”

“I seduced him,” Eliot said, and laughed. “Oh, he wanted to for as
long as I did. But I think he was afraid Derek would send him up for
statutory rape or something. I was irresistible at fifteen. I kept
asking him to give me massages, playing the little nubile waif. And
finally–well, he couldn’t hold back anymore.” He sighed. “It was a
wild night. We did everything.”

Revolutionary Voices – Page 205

(A young activist denounces “this white-supremacist, capitalist
heteropatriarchy.”)

On Diversity

(Presented at Pride 1997, Olympia, Wash.)

The term diversity has become more than trite these days. Slap a
rainbow flag on your car and you’re well on the way to “diverse”
liberalism. A true commitment to diversity, however, requires a closer
look at the privileges and oppressions simultaneously affecting each
of us and a recognition of both public and private means of
resistance. In many ways I have privilege: I am white, middle-class,
and attending college. These factors grant me certain societally
bestowed benefits. In other ways, I am systemically oppressed: as a
woman, as a youth, as a person with cerebral palsy, as a bisexual
queer. With these attributes, I fail to meet the optimal requirements
for functioning in this white-supremacist, capitalist
heteropatriarchy.

If you are not part of the system in the optimal way (i.e., as a
straight, white, middle-class or upwardly mobile, Christian male), you
pose a threat to that dominant system.

Queer 13 – Pages 222 + 223

(A 13-year-old boy carefully inspects his friend’s genitals, admiring
the size of his penis; then the author describes each of their
masturbation techniques.)

“How old are you, twelve? I had pubes when I was twelve,” Donnie said
in disbelief.

“I’m thirteen and I do have some pubes,” I said. “Just not a lot.”

Donnie moved toward me. “‘Let’s see. I bet you’ve got more than you
think.” I started to unzip my fly to show him when his mom yelled
again for us to turn the music down before she came down and did it
herself. I nervously zipped my jeans back up.

Donnie said, “It’s weird. I’m only two years older than you, but look
at mine.” He sat on the edge of his bed and slid his jeans down to his
knees. He pulled on his pubes and showed me how thick his hair was. He
wasn’t self-conscious at all. It felt like he was showing me a science
project or something. He let me examine his dick and pubes close up. I
had never seen that much pubic hair that close before. I only had a
few pubic hairs, but I kept a vigilant watch over them. I counted them
and watched them grow. I knew whenever a new one appeared. Donnie’s
pubes looked so good, so exciting to me. Blood started rushing around
me. I felt warm. I felt happy and hopeful at the thought that someday
soon I would have that much, too. Donnie was proud of himself. That
close, his pubic hair looked like a dense forest. There was a dark
moist smell. Kind of familiar, but different from my own. More like a
man smell than a boy smell. I was in awe not only of his pubes but
because I wanted to have a dick the size of his, with all that hair.
Compared to Donnie’s mature dick with that thick bush at its base,
mine was a naked pencil. I was surprised that his dick was big. He was
kind of overweight, just a big kid really. I told him I thought fat
guys had small dicks. He didn’t get upset that I called him fat. He
said matter-of-factly, “Some of ‘em do.”

He spread the Playboy open on the bed and showed me how he jacked off.
I sat next to him and watched as he spit in his hand and rubbed it on
the head of his dick. Then he wrapped his hand around his dick and
moved it quickly up and down. He didn’t get very hard. It was just a
demonstration. I was too shy to tell him how I did it. When I
masturbated I had to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake up my brothers. I lay
on my stomach and humped the mattress until I came. My sheets always
had yellow crusty stains on them, but my mother never mentioned it
even though she was the one who washed them.

In Your Face – Page 136

(A girl describes how she became “fuck buddies” with another girl
while at the same time having a boyfriend.)

The girls I have gone out with have been high school age or a little
bit older. I went out with this girl Jennay, and with her, it was just
total attractiveness. I got to know her on a different level, and we
became lovers. It’s funny to say it, but we didn’t really relate
emotionally. So we sort of became fuck buddies. This was actually
going on at the same time I was going out with Mark, so it was kinda
bad.

Queer 13 – Page 17

(The author describes various sexualized public restroom incidents.)

The little man in a checked sports jacket stands too close to me at
the urinal. Is he subnormal? Doesn’t he understand social distance? He
has an accent—British? Cockney? Maybe he’s wearing a bowler? “Excuse
me?”

“Xxxx’x x xxxx xxxx xxx xxxx xxxxx.”

“What?”

“That’s a nice cock you have there.” He’s offering his, a prim pink
boutonniere; I can see why he likes mine better. A nice cock? Is it
separate from my body, which is not nice? Separate, like my beautiful
eyes? He’s will-less as a dust bunny, and when I tap him on the
shoulder, he drifts away.

Later, in a smelly gas-station toilet, I realize the wad of toilet
paper left on top of the dispenser is filled with someone’s sperm.
Some pervert left it there, I tell myself wonderingly. To be found, I
add. And recognized. As what? An offering, an assertion? I don’t
forget to be grossed out. I smell it—sure enough, sperm. Consciousness
the predicament, orgasm the escape. I look around for the masturbator
as though I’m dreaming, as though I can hear his I’m coming noises.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 19

(The author mentions how, while in fifth and sixth grade [age 10 and
11], he often had sex with his male classmates.)

Fortunately, even though being homosexual laid heavily on my
conscience during fifth and sixth grades, sex was nevertheless still
available. No feelings of guilt entered my mind when having sex with
other boys because sex was something spontaneous, and a satisfaction
of certain needs.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 23

(At the age of 12, the author reports being taken aback when the
friend with whom he frequently had gay sex asked him “What would you
do if you had some pussy right now?”)

As I entered seventh grade, I noticed that kids were changing
physically as well as socially.

…

Interestingly, Bob Cote and I began a sexual relationship. In fact, we
had sex together quite frequently. So I was completely taken by
surprise one day at the lunch table when he tried to initiate me into
the conversation about heterosexuality.

“How about you, Aaron, what would you do if you had some pussy right now?”

In Your Face – Page 142

(The narrator regrets that as a teenager he was too shy to hook up
with an older man.)

I’ve never been with a guy yet. I was tempted once. I was in this
store–a clothes shop or something. Well, this guy was looking at me
and my friend pointed it out. I was gonna go up and talk to the guy,
but the guy was twenty-something. He was good-looking, too. This was
like a year and a half ago or something. I was really screwed up—not
sure how I felt. I didn’t say anything. I remembered going home and
wishing that I had said something.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 155

(A memoir in which the author begins masturbating at the age of nine,
later bemoaning the culture which said it was not OK.)

I discovered masturbation when I was nine. But because of other
Christian peers and teachers, I learned it was not OK. According to
them, the only time a woman should be sexual was after she got
married. My parents did not talk about sex or sexual orientation. The
only thing my mother told me was, “Don’t get raped.” She did not
describe what it meant to be raped, let alone what it meant to have a
healthy relationship, to have sexual intercourse, or the consequences
thereof. How was I to know how I could protect myself? How could I
protect myself when I wasn’t confident in my own body?

The Full Spectrum – Pages 227 + 228

(A five-year-old girl and a six-year-old girl engage in sex games.)

I am five and Katie is six. Her birthday is in September. Mine is in
June. We are both in kindergarten, she in the p.m. class and me in the
a.m., but we go to day care together. We are best friends.

…

Today I am going to Katie’s for a playdate.

…

Katie pulls her shorts off. She is wearing blue and white polka-dotted
Hanes underwear, the kind that I have at home. They come in a
three-pack with a matching blue pair and a matching white pair. She
lies down on her floor and pulls her underwear off over her butt, and
tells me to spank her because she’s the baby and I’m the mommy. It
seems kind of weird and she yells at me to do it. Then she makes me be
the baby and she spanks me, too. She tells me that I should learn how
to French-kiss because boys always do that, so she kisses me and puts
her tongue in my mouth. I roll my tongue hot-dog style, because that
is fun.

Her mommy drives me home, and in the backseat of her white car Katie
Frenches me again.

We are in second grade now, and Katie still makes me practice Frenching her.

Queer 13 – Page 148

(A boy avoids a schoolyard fight in order to engage in “a masturbation
marathon” instead, then adds that he prefers teachers’ bodies to
students’ bodies.)

My wrestling partner, fellow lightweight, a boy with “skaggy”
chin-length hair, called me out—dared me to fight him, tomorrow after
school. I agreed to the duel.

His skinny arms were nothing to fear, and yet I stayed home from
school the next day and had a masturbation marathon instead.

We’d planned to rendezvous by the locked, parked bikes, near the
ecological simulacrum of a habitat, created by the science teacher to
show us how to respect the planet.

I preferred teacher to student bodies, with a few exceptions.

Being Different – Page 36

(A group of 9- and 10-year-old boys all get erections together in a tent.)

Sleep-away camp lent itself to exploration as well. The summer between
fourth and fifth grade I learned what an erection was. Six guys in a
tent without a parental figure and instructed to go to bed had no
intention of falling asleep until our eyelids felt like anvils. At
some point, the conversation turned to sex. And that same friend who
enjoyed mooning the guys also instructed us, using his own body for
visual proof, as to what an erection was. Soon after, we were all
erect, with very little inkling that what we were doing would be
considered by some to be wrong.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 24

(The author discusses the psychological issues his sex partner
experienced when they were both 12 years old.)

My school life was becoming lonelier. Most of my former friends
ignored me. Bob and I stayed friendly and kept up our sex life
together, but many times Bob also talked about fantasies with females
and salami. Bob felt guilty about having sex with me and pretended
that we never did. It was frustrating because now, more than ever, I
wanted to communicate with someone about my sexuality – but there was
no one available. Although Bob provided sexual stimulation, there was
little other communication between us; he was too inhibited. In fact,
one time he refused to have sex unless we first hypnotized each other
into being different people: he would be a woman while satisfying me,
and then we would switch. I went along with it but felt ridiculous
when the two identities he had chosen for us turned out to be
Ann-Margret and Jaclyn Smith. My part was Ann-Margret, of course.

Bob and I had sex often yet there was always that suppressive air.

In Your Face – Page 126

(The narrator describes how the other teens in his social circle “have
sex all the time” and “go down to the Castro and pick up guys.”)

With queer kids I meet outside of the youth group, it’s the only thing
we have in common is that we’re gay and we’re young. They just go to
clubs and get fucked up and have sex all the time. They go down to the
Castro and pick up guys. And I know it’s their internalized homophobia
and that kind of stuff and they’re dealing with that.

Passages of Pride – Page 49

(Two second-grade boys engage in sex-play when the adults aren’t looking.)

Troy and Jordan soon discovered they shared a common secret—they both
were infatuated with boys. They would compare their affections for
boys they knew at their school and tease each other about their latest
crushes. Both admired one boy in particular, a second-grader named
Kelly. Kelly was exceptionally good-looking. Troy remembers thinking
he was the type of boy who surely would grow up to be strikingly
handsome. Troy and Jordan vied unabashedly for his attention, pushing
and elbowing to sit by his side during lunch, and showing off during
recess. It was Jordan who won out, finally capturing Kelly’s interest.
He invited Kelly over to his home, where they would roll and tumble
together on an old mattress down in the basement, out of sight of any
adult, kissing and hugging under blankets and sheets, sometimes
without their clothes.

Revolutionary Voices – Pages 43 + 44

(A girl describes how at the age of 12 she announced to her entire
elementary school that she is a lesbian.)

Coming Out in Middle School

I first began to come out when I was 11. In terms of my family, I was
fortunate because my parents have always been accepting of my sexual
identity. It was really great to have their backing, especially
considering that a lot of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender
people don’t have that kind of family support. I come from a
political, staunchly liberal family; I guess you could say I inherited
my parents’ socialist genes. However, the school I was going to when I
came out was immensely different from my home situation.

I was in sixth grade and attending a Catholic school in San Francisco
when I came out to a small group of people. (I was actually raised in
an agnostic household, but the Catholic school was three blocks away
from where I lived.) My fellow students had already assumed I was a
queer because I defended queer people and got angry at folks in my
class when they said the word “faggot.” So of course they were making
accusations about my sexuality left and right. Still, I didn’t feel
comfortable coming out to all of them.

During this time I started attending LYRIC, the Lavender Youth
Recreation and Information Center, a wonderful program and hang-out
space for LGBT youth in San Francisco. Just hanging out with other
queer youth and finding a place where I could get support was
incredible. Programs that give queer youth a space to be safe are
really important, and I know that finding LYRIC helped me out a lot.

The next year I was in seventh grade. At that point I was tired of
being harassed, and I had gotten to a place in my life where I could
actually deal with the harassment and stand up to people who hurt me.
I realized I could only be happy if I was honest with the people
around me. So at the age of 12 1 came out to my entire elementary
school, which included grades K-8.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Pages 12 + 13

(As a six-year-old, the author became sexually aroused by Batman and
GI Joe, and “messed around” with his playmates.)

One day when I was about six, while watching a Batman episode with
Cheryl, I casually commented on the anatomical proportions of Batman.
I knew no reason to stifle my aroused sexual feelings, so I just
mentioned that I liked what I saw. Cheryl freaked out. It was my first
lesson that talking about this subject made people upset.

This was the first time I had spoken of my sexual thoughts although I
had been having those thoughts for as long as I could remember.
Already I was undressing my GI Joe dolls, and I had messed around with
some of my male playmates, but it never crossed my mind to mention my
feelings to anyone.

Queer 13 – Page 228

(Two 11-year-old boys sneak into a school closet to have a sexual
encounter, but are interrupted by a teacher before they can begin.)

Something was in the air, and it wasn’t just pot smoke. But at age
eleven I was alert to it, sniffing it out like a caged animal keenly
sensing freedom. That year was an awakening for me. Puberty struck
like violent spring weather. The boys of my new school, East Meadow
Elementary in Palo Alto, were sexual boys, and I had never been cast
among sexual boys before. It’s not that they were having sex; rather,
they radiated sex, its power and allure. We were a school of boys
coming into sticky heat. We got hard in our pants, grabbed at one
another’s crotches, traded sex drawings we sketched covertly during
class. We talked solemnly about the mysterious and exciting changes
happening to our bodies, the public hair some of us were beginning to
sprout, our nipples that felt strangely sensitive. Overnight we became
achingly aware of our penises.

In the school library there was a supplies closet where some of the
boys, it was rumored, went when the library wasn’t in use. One spring
afternoon, as Lex Bancroft and I, unsupervised, shelved books—an honor
bestowed from time to time on A students—he confided to me that he and
Brian Freeman had gone to the closet the week before. The window
shades were down to indicate the library was closed, but still the
afternoon light suffused the room with a tender glow. Lex hooked his
thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and splayed his fingers
against his pelvis as if in triumph. Did I want to go? he wondered.

Those of us who had not been to the closet could only speculate about
what, exactly, went on in there. I felt a bright spasm of
longing–everything in the room seemed at once vague and luminous; we
were on the verge, I sensed, of something truly amazing–when the door
opened and our teacher, Mr. Bouchner, appeared to tell us the news
that Martin Luther King had just been assassinated in that faraway
city where I had grown up.

The Full Spectrum – Pages 228 + 229

(The author describes the sexual interactions a group of
thirteen-year-old girls has with an 18-year-old boy.)

I am thirteen and my soul bleeds poetry.

…

My best friend is Nicole now. It used to be Kim, but she’s so annoying.

…

Nicole’s dad has this friend named Chris. He’s really cool. He’s
eighteen and he comes over to Nicole’s house to play Magic: The
Gathering and drink beers with Nicole’s dad. He usually spends the
night, because Nicole’s dad doesn’t want him to drive home. Kim is
sort of dating him. She thinks they’re engaged. Nicole and I sleep in
the basement, and Chris sleeps upstairs in the living room.

…

One night Chris kisses me in the dark on Nicole’s living room floor.
It’s after five in the morning, which I know because I watch the clock
the whole time. His mouth is huge. I’ve never kissed a boy before. It
turns into a habit, and sometimes Nicole and I lie in sleeping bags on
either side of him, pretending we don’t know that he has one hand up
each of our shirts. Once, Chris has his hand in my pants and asks me
if I’m awake.

Kim has sex with Chris on her kitchen floor one night in December, and
Nicole and I want her to die.

In Your Face – Page 130

(The narrator discovers to his surprise that many of the stereotypes
about gay men which he tried to unlearn ended up being true after
all.)

I’ve developed an aversion to bars, from what I’ve heard about the
sexualization of gay culture there. The weird thing is that when you
finally get some self-esteem about being gay, you have to unlearn all
these things about gay men that you’ve been taught. However, you end
up growing older and learning that a lot of it was true! A lot of gay
men out there just want sex, and that’s not easy for a young hopeless
romantic to deal with.

Passages of Pride – Page 54

(Two high-schoolers have a long-term sexual relationship, which one
wants to announce defiantly to the world.)

Late one night, Troy sneaked into Michael’s basement bedroom while his
parents and sister slept upstairs. For hours, they lay together in
Michael’s bed, hugging, kissing, and touching each other. Usually it
was the park or Michael’s car where they would make out, masturbating
each other and having oral sex. They didn’t use condoms, and instead
abstained from sex that they thought would be unsafe, Troy says.

“Michael was the first guy I even messed around with.” Never was he
ashamed of what he was doing, Troy maintains. “It was exciting. It was
sort of like I just wanted to get on a big loudspeaker and start
yelling at the whole town: ‘This is what we’re doing, so fuck you!’”

Revolutionary Voices – Page 104

(A work of art showing a Boy Scout giving a salute behind two men
kissing passionately.)

The Promise, etching, 38 x 35.5 cm, 1999

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 16

(During a sleepover at the home of an elementary school classmate, the
author as a child touches his friend’s genitals without permission,
getting in trouble for it.)

After Billy’s family moved I developed a friendship with a new
classmate named Bob Cote and I had feelings for him similar to the
ones I had for Billy. Sex, however, was not a part of our
relationship. In between catching toads, flying kites and swimming
nude in a pond in the woods, sex never came to mind.

One night Bob invited me to sleep over. When I went I expected that we
would just sit around and watch TV, but as the evening wore on I found
myself becoming attracted to Bob. His mother, Mrs. Cote, had been
keeping a close eye on us all evening so I waited until bedtime to
make my advance. Before bed, I insisted on bringing my bed within a
few feet of his. Once the lights were out I silently reached my left
hand over to his bed and slipped it under his sheet and through his
pajama bottoms.

Without a word Bob bounded from the bed and hurried out of the room.
Where had he gone? Had I done something wrong by touching him? What
was going to happen? These fears raced through my head. Soon I heard
his Bob’s mother open the door to the bedroom. I’ll never forget the
beating she gave me that night.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 17

(The author reports that a large group of elementary school boys
continued to engage in oral sex in the school restrooms, even though
he personally had dropped out of the group.)

My sex life did not stop but it slowed down a lot – mostly I just went
back to undressing GI Joes and staring at them in privacy of my own
room. I dropped out of the lavatory assemblage, which had continued
since first grade. It was too risky; my fears kept me from enjoying
the lavatory encounters so I just imagined them instead. I lost
contact with the group but later heard it had grown considerably and
was utilizing the bathroom facilities on the entire first floor
including the auditorium and was working on a two-shift rotation
schedule. But for me, that luxury had been stolen.

The Full Spectrum – Pages 216 + 217

(A girl moves into a college dorm and describes the sexcapades of her
new friends.)

To celebrate, they hold the Dorm Slut Olympics, and I am the
torchbearer. The torch is four bananas held together with a hair band,
and the first event is the Banana Deep Throat. A girl named Caitlinn
goes for the gold, taking the whole banana down. Everyone is awed.
Jason is silver, and my roommate gets an honorable mention. I decline,
since dick is not my thing, and I have no desire to practice on
produce filched from Shively Hall. Then there is the Best Fake Orgasm
competition, and again Caitlinn wins hands down. This time Ray gets
silver, and while he’s performing, one of the ROTC boys from
downstairs keeps touching himself through his pants. I laugh to
myself, because it’s so cliché for the faux-soldiers to lust after one
of my epicene new friends.

When it’s over, and most people have paired off and disappeared, Ray
and Jason and I crawl under the blankets in Ray’s bed, which is a top
bunk. I relish the feeling of other people’s legs tangled with mine,
my small breasts pillowing Ray’s head. It is all perfectly innocent,
but I am glad to be in the middle as we half-watch The Daily Show.
I’ve missed having people to be close to, to the point that this
simple human connection is bliss. I only met them this afternoon, but
after watching them both fellate bananas, it would be hard not to be
friends. We pull Ray’s comforter over our heads and say silly things
and practice for tomorrow’s Olympic event, which will be Heterosexual
Dirty Talk with a Partner. I ask Jason if I can lick every wrinkle in
his ball sack, and he laughs and pretends to feel around in my pants,
telling me to just let him know when he finds my labia. We decide that
we’ll be funny rather than sexy, because it’s already obvious that
Caitlinn dominates as the official Dorm Slut.

Then Ray complains that he can’t see the TV because he’s in the back,
and I ask him if he wants to be in the middle, because he is the
Birthday Boy. It’s not long before he and Jason are no longer
spooning, but obviously curled up in each other. Jason keeps taking
the comforter away from me so that I am outside the circle, and then
Ray keeps fixing it so that I’m back in with them. I don’t know if
he’s nervous or just trying to be polite, but I can take a hint. I
climb down from the top bunk and collect the few other people still in
the room, not so subtly letting them know that Ray will be receiving
head whether they stick around or not, but that they might not want to
witness it.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 216

(A woman announces that she wants to help bring about “a revolution in
this country.”)

I am a 22-year-old Latina trying to become a revolutionary and trying
to figure out how cultural work could contribute to a revolution in
this country.

In Your Face – Pages 113 + 114

(The narrator describes how she sometimes likes being promiscuous.)

And I realized that I’d always sort of wanted to experience that; I’d
read about that older bar scene and I wanted to be just like that when
I grew up. I wanted to be like the rad player dyke from Hell–somebody
who fucks around just so they can, someone who works the scene and
doesn’t particularly care who she’s screwing, no emotional attachment.
Of course, I’m incapable of being a player; I have the problem that I
wind up falling in love with anybody I sleep with, so that kinda cuts
me out of the spectrum.

…

I started working the social scene after I broke up with my third
girlfriend. For the past six months, I’ve basically been a slut. I
have been serially monogamous–I’m not sure if you could really call it
that, because it never lasted long enough to be called monogamy.

Passages of Pride – Page 79

(A woman recalls the “sexploration” she engaged in between the ages of
seven and nine.)

When she was seven or eight, the games of the older boys turned
sexual. “I was doing a lot of sexploration,” she recalls, “even at
those young ages”—playing doctor or Dracula, coming home with hickeys
on her neck. “It kind of got carried away in the course of being in
contact with those boys.” At age nine, she found herself in a closet
with a couple of boys who were trying to talk her into having sex.
“They wanted to have intercourse,” she says. “I remember they had
their penises out and they wanted to try it. I don’t remember any
penetration or anything, but we tried.”

Revolutionary Voices – Page 143

(A woman describes her friend’s rape using explicit language.)

Our Story

I tried to write it, first as a story, then as a poem—what my friend
Christine had told me, about the rape.

…

But the violence, the violence was there, the seeds planted many years
before, by drunken hands and broken lips; like the man who told her
how lucky she was to be with him now that she was gaining weight
because most men wouldn’t put up with hips like that. Other stories
too. So many other words, entering and entering between her thighs;
the cock thrusting without her permission, without my permission, and
all the lies we’ve lay under all this time just waiting, waiting…

In Your Face – Page 129

(The narrator recounts the complicated sexual and emotional
relationship he had with a teenaged friend.)

Lewis and I fooled around sometime over that summer. The word
“bisexual” came up afterward. A few weeks later, I came out to him as
gay, which was rather difficult. The funny thing was, Lewis was
surprised and disconcerted when I told him. This became increasingly
stranger when we ended up in bed together ten minutes after I told
him.

After every time we fooled around, he’d sort of punish himself (or me)
by not speaking to me for a week or so afterward. Inevitably we’d end
up in bed together. The situation was complicated when I told him I
was in love with him. For some time Lewis remained the only friend I
had who knew about me and we had something of a psychotic
relationship, with me being the “other man” he cheated with on all his
girlfriends.

…

The Order of the Poison Oak – Pages 127, 128, 129 + 130

(Two boys have a sexual encounter while skinny-dipping.)

So Web was kissing me, and it’s not like I could not kiss him back.

…

I was tingling all over. I could feel every single nerve ending in my
entire body, and each one was on

red alert (some more alerted than others!). We were still kissing when
I felt his arms slip around me, exploring, but also drawing me close,
sucking me in. I’d been seduced by a merman or an octopus, and Min or
no Min, I was powerless to escape.

Suddenly, my body was pressing against his, slick and warm and hard,
and that’s when I really knew we were skinny-dipping. There was
absolutely nothing coming between Web and me now.

And then he ducked under the water again. Only this time, he did more
than brush me with his hand.

…

Web floated in the gentle ripples, splayed out like a cologne model in
some glossy magazine. “That was hot,” he said, eyes lasering into me.
“You think that was hot?”

“I guess,” I said, sinking deeper into the water and doing my best to
avoid his gaze.

Web sat upright. “Come here.”

“What? No, I don’t think—”

But then the octopus of Lake Serenity was on the move again. And once
again, I was powerless to escape.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 21

(When the author hit puberty at the age of 12, he reports that he
became even more hyper-sexual than before.)

When I was twelve, the physical changes we had been told about in
health class started to happen. I was getting taller, and growing
pubic hair, and my voice was deepening a bit. It may seem impossible
in contrast to the busy sex life of my childhood years, but I also
developed a heightened sexuality.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 26

(In junior high, the author had loveless sex with another boy whom he
didn’t particularly like.)

The last holdout from my childhood sexual years was David Beamer. Dave
was slower than other kids so he went to a special school. He and I
never had a close relationship but once Bob was gone I turned to Dave
in a desperate search for security and companionship. I began to
frequent Dave’s house and to have sex with him, yet our communication
only became more diluted. The more I tried, the worse the situation
got. It was torture because I wanted more out of these relationships
than sexual stimulation.

The Full Spectrum – Page 146

(The author recounts an erotic dream in which she has sex with her friend.)

It is warm. Her hands are everywhere on me, on my thighs, breasts,
shoulders. She laughs softly, and it echoes through the room. I’m not
sure where we are, but it’s a bed, and the sheets smell like lavender.
She leans closer and kisses me, fingers and palm slipping between my
legs.

Revolutionary Voices – Pages 97, 98 + 99

(An overweight woman with eating disorders realizes that obesity is
caused by “compulsory heterosexuality” forcing women to hide their
true lesbian feelings and thus to hate themselves.)

Secret Hungers

I had an eating disorder in high school. Like millions of American
girls, I hated my body. I ate compulsively, and believed I could never
be normal. I was achingly envious of thin, attractive women.

…

I was fascinated when men liked me. I believed that by controlling my
weight, I could ensure a boyfriend’s loyalty. If he drifted away, I
knew he had finally noticed my body was too big. If he stayed, I was
hungry for sex. His desire made me feel alive.

…

As my eating obsession raged on in college, feminist accounts of
eating disorders reassured me. I was suffering from issues of body
image and sense of self that affect all women in our society. Because
women are treated as sex objects, I learned, we are often alienated
from our sexuality and from our desires. That made sense to me. I knew
there was something wrong with the way I kept sneaking and stealing
food, eating boxes of cookies at a time and hating myself.

…

I learned that I wanted to be big, to take up space, to rage.

…

I had prayed for years for someone to tell me, plainly and simply,
what my eating disorder was about. No theory suggested that shame
about my body, my needs, and desires might be shame about my queer
sexuality. None suggested that envy of women might be a cover for
desire. Those suggestions may be too threatening to straight
feminists. Most women suffer from similar anxiety, guilt, and food
obsession, and all women are constrained by compulsory
heterosexuality. Perhaps food and body-image obsession are a secret
language for all women. They speak a rebellion, a refusal to fit mind
and soul into the role of the perfect straight girl. They speak
women’s hunger for more intimate, physical, primary relationships to
other women.

…

My residual feelings of guilt about eating evaporated. I would still
sit down and eat a box of cookies at a stretch fairly frequently. But
I usually let myself shrug off the complex, painful emotions that go
with a binge. They seemed like a waste of energy. The guilt and
secrecy were unnecessary.

I began to take pride in the fact that I would never be the perfect,
pretty, docile straight girl—treasured by my family and by men,
celebrated by society.

In Your Face – Page 100

(The narrator recalls with mixed feelings the interactions with online
child predators he had when he was a young teenager.)

The first time I told someone that I might be gay I was thirteen- or
fourteen-years-old, probably closer to fourteen. It was my freshman
year in high school, and I was on Prodigy, the computer service, and I
met a guy, and he just started talking to me, and the subject got to
being gay, and I told him that I thought I might be gay. And he told
me that he was seventeen years old, and so I felt like I could relate
to him. And I wrote to him all the time, and we always talked.

Later on, he told me that he was thirty-three, and I was upset, ’cause
we had gotten to be good friends, and that bothered me that he lied to
me. …

A few months after that, I had the same kind of experience. I was out
to a few more people then, but I met another thirty-three-year-old guy
on the computer, who subsequently fell in love with me. And it was,
not really an emotionally scarring experience but it was kind of a
scarring experience, because I had two thirty-three-year-old men that
were in love with me. I’m thirteen or fourteen, seriously questioning
my sexuality; they were nice people; I’m glad nothing ever happened,
and, I don’t know, it just reaffirmed my belief that I needed to stick
to who I was and not try to be something that other people wanted me
to be.

Passages of Pride – Page 32

(A man recalls a brief sexual encounter he had as a young teenager.)

After the tournament, the boys went back to their room for the night.
Dan left the room briefly to go to the bathroom, and when he returned,
the lights were out and Richard was in Dan’s bed, waiting. The two
boys began “fooling around” under the covers, Dan recalls, kissing,
groping, and rolling on top of each other. After ten or fifteen
minutes, Richard suddenly pulled away, guilt-ridden and humiliated by
what they had been doing.

“I’ll never be able to look at you the same way again,” he angrily told Dan.

The Full Spectrum – Pages 140 + 141

(Two teenaged boys go to the movies and have an erotic encounter in
the theater restroom.)

We ended up in the theater—we were supposed to be seeing some lame
comedy. It started with hand-holding. Then him showing me the silver
charm bracelet his friend Natalie had given him, which I grabbed and
challenged him to get back. All innocent and flirty, until I slid the
bracelet across my crotch, daring him with my eyes to grab for it now.

Next thing I know we’re on the floor in the unisex bathroom, door
locked and lights out, fumbling all over each other. At one point on
top of me, he began ramming his tongue in my mouth and swirling it
around. When I started laughing, he admitted, in the same casual tone
with which he’d later dump me, that he didn’t know what the hell he
was doing either. I didn’t need the lights on to see his
characteristic shoulder shrug.

Afterward we slid against the wall of the theater’s small arcade,
looking at each other and vaguely smiling, miles apart, still
processing. We ended the night simply saying goodbye.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 167

(A woman denounces the polarity of cultural assumptions, saying there
is no gay or straight, no right or wrong.)

Labels, Names, & Identity

My sexuality is as fluid, infinite, undefinable, and ever-changing as
the north-flowing river that runs through the valley where I have
spent nearly all my life. The continuum of sexuality is long, and I am
always slip-sliding from one side to the other and most often stopping
to rest somewhere in the middle. Sexuality is not black or white … it
is gray, and gray comes in infinite shades, more than could ever be
contained in the biggest box of drawing pencils.

I know who I am. Being unable to fit into a narrow category defined by
someone else is not confusion. I know that defining myself is not so
simple. If I collect all the labels that apply to
me—Jewish-pagan-vegan-bisexual-lesbian-queer-woman-girl-womyn-grrrl—I
would quickly fill up a book. Everyone’s sexuality is unique, just as
no two maple leaves on the trees surrounding my parents’ house are the
same as they transform into fiery red, orange, and yellow each autumn.
That is part of what makes us human. The unnatural society we have
imposed on the natural world is based on polarity and dichotomy. But
we are constantly transforming, developing, and changing. Nothing is
as simple as yes or no, right or wrong.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 95

(Erotic poem by a teenage girl, describing an encounter during a sleepover.)

Poems whispered in the dark

by Laura and Lauren, to each other

Untitled

by Laura

in the dim light of my room

after the footsteps have stopped

i sink into you

i bare my body to your eyes

the same body i conceal from the world

your eyes peruse my curves and accept them

only you love my flaws

the heat between our bodies burns my flesh

melts away insecurity

under the covers your fingers perfect my naked body

your skin clothes me

i hover above you and watch you watch me move

your eyes give me strength

your breath—reassurance

in the dim light of my room

after the footsteps have stopped

i accept myself

The Order of the Poison Oak – Pages 155 + 156

(A boy suggests anal sex to another boy, who refuses.)

Then he leaned closer to me still and whispered something.

“Web!” I said, even as my pulse quickened.

“What?” He looked absolutely innocent, which was saying something
given what he’d just whispered in my ear.

“We can’t!” I said.

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, we don’t have any condoms. And even if we did,
that’s just not something I’d do—not for a long, long time.”

The Order of the Poison Oak – Page 162

(A boy suggests mutual masturbation to another boy, who again resists.)

“Are you kidding? It took me all of twenty minutes to get into your
pants. Not exactly a challenge. Even Min took longer than that.”

By now, Web had to be able to see how red my face was, even in the
dark, even in the orange throb of those distant forest fires.

Web laughed again. “Now you don’t just look serious—now you look
shocked! Hey, it’s no big deal.

It’s the way of the world. Guys need sex. You know I’m right.” He held
a hand out toward me. “Now come on, let’s get each other off!”

I took a step backward, away from him.

“Oh, please!” he said. “It’s not like you’re Mr. Innocent!”

In Your Face – Pages 37 + 38

(The author describes being molested at age three, and then again
starting at age ten.)

Well, the first time I knew I was gay was when I was three. I was
molested by two girl cousins—I’m not gay because of that by the way. I
remember thinking, even when it was happening, that this shouldn’t be
happening because I like boys. And that was my first memory of sexual
identity at all. Then after that, it was in the back of my head; I
always thought about it.

I messed around with some friends I had and stuff, and then, when I
was ten I started talking to my mother’s boyfriend–and I started
telling him, that I had feelings toward boys and stuff like that. At
the time, I had this friend who was absolutely gorgeous, and I had a
total crush on him, and I told my mother’s boyfriend about it. It
ended up that he used that to start a sexual relationship with me, and
it lasted till I was seventeen.

And then, after what started happening at home, I started losing
control of my home life. I didn’t have anything that felt stable; I
was living a total lie. I was lying to my mother; I was lying to my
friends: I was lying to everybody. I couldn’t be home with my
stepfather because he didn’t want a relationship; he just wanted to
use me for sex.

…

I told my mom when I was thirteen that my stepfather was molesting me.
My mother didn’t do anything.

…

I don’t consider what my stepfather did to me child molestation even
though it was really. I consider it to be rape because through that,
my mother’s boyfriend totally destroyed my relationship with my
mother. That wasn’t my first sexual experience, so I’m not scarred by
it or anything. I’m just more upset at the emotional part of it. He
was very manipulative and he showed me a lot of attention.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 164

(A teenager describes “coming out” as a lesbian at age 13.)

I began my coming-out process at 13, and my writing and art have
helped me through it all. I am 16, Jewish, and queer. Activism,
writing, improvisation, hiking, reading, messing with people’s
assumptions about gender, and questioning the status quo are all
passions of mine. It took me a while to learn to find power in words
that have been used to hurt me, such as dyke, butch, and queer, but
now I have reclaimed them for myself.

Reflections of a Rock Lobster – Page 28

(A 13-year-old boy becomes sexually attracted to his eighth-grade gym teacher.)

In eighth grade I developed my first crush on a man from afar. It was
an adolescent and purely physical attraction, but no less strong for
that. The man was my eighth grade phys. ed. teacher. I always thought
he treated me differently from the rest of the students: while the
others were doing pushups I was allowed to walk the nature trail.

The Full Spectrum – Page 237

(The narrator meets a sexually agressive new man.)

As Simon and Ahmed hadn’t seen each other for a while, Simon asked
Ahmed if he had met anyone. Ahmed responded: “Yes, I met someone. But
it didn’t work out. He was too small, and you know, I like them big.”
With this, Ahmed shot an impish glance in my direction, tilted back
his head, and started to humbly chuckle. As the conversation
continued, Ahmed continued to stare at me now and then, seeming to
have a twinkle in his eye that said “fuck me.”

The Order of the Poison Oak – Page 209

(Two boys have a G-rated sexual encounter in a rowboat.)

Then I was on the seat next to him, holding him and kissing him.

“I’m so glad I met you, Russel Middlebrook,” Otto said. “I think I
must be the luckiest guy in the world.”

“Second luckiest,” I said, kissing him again.

You’re not supposed to stand in a rowboat, and we didn’t. But there
are other things you can do, and Otto and I definitely did plenty of
those.

Revolutionary Voices – Page 108

(A biracial AIDS activist only hands out condoms to people of certain
races, but not to others.)

I have joined many different Queer and Asian Pacific American (APA)
organizations. I also have become an AIDS activist, and I pass out
condoms to people of color. As I walk through the streets doing this,
I look for people of color, but sometimes it is difficult to tell
whether one is of color. When I’m only supposed to pass them out to
APAS, it becomes even more difficult.

“Is he Filipino? Wait, he might be Latino.”

“Is that girl APA, because she might be a mix between Russian

and ethnic-Jewish.”

When I accidentally assume someone’s ethnicity I feel embarrassed. But
it happens a lot.

In Your Face – Pages 154 + 155

(A 17-old-years muses about promiscuity in the gay community.)

I’m seventeen….

…

In the 1970s people had sex a lot because there was no AIDS, and I’m
really interested in the pre-AIDS era. I want to study that. Our
community was really self-destructive in the 1970s. And it still is in
a lot of ways. Like in the Castro, the same kind of people who were
around in the 1970s are still there. A lot of the young gay people I
know who party all the time, they’re just the same as people were in
the 1970s; they don’t take care of themselves. I’m worried because I
know that a lot of them are gonna get AIDS because they just have sex
all the time, and you can’t do that.

I consider myself more promiscuous than I’d like to be, but not as
promiscuous, not nearly as promiscuous, as most guys out there. I
would never have sex with somebody whom I didn’t want to have sex with
and whom I wasn’t attracted to, but a lot of people do. They feel
loved when they have sex, and they want to make up for all the hate
that they experienced. Especially in school.

The Full Spectrum – Page 221

(A high-school boy becomes popular by dispensing tampons and sanitary
pads to girls having their periods.)

“Fucking men. I wish guys would bleed out their asses once a month,
goddammit,” my godsister wailed during her heavy flow, looking at me
with spite.

Though I couldn’t help that my anatomy was different, I felt remorse
for not having an intrusive monthly visitor. It was like surviving a
plane crash and living with the guilt that it was someone else, and
not you, who had to die. I did the only thing I could to make my girl
friends’ lives better: I began carrying feminine hygiene products in
my backpack to school. This act alone gained me the importance of a
drug dealer, and my lady friends became a horde of dope fiends.

Instead of fishing to find a quarter at the bottom of their purses,
girls would come up to me during classes, attempting to discreetly ask
for assistance with a hearty, “I’m on the rag—help me!” I would then
rapidly pull out everything I had available and showcase them with my
hands, like a stage girl on The Price Is Right.

“Do you want a tampon or a pad? I have the pad with or without wings.
These overnighters with wings are really absorbent, so if you’re
surfing a big crimson wave, this is the one. But if you want a tampon,
I have to suggest these superabsorbent ultrathins, because you can
barely feel them and they’re made from unbleached cotton, not rayon.
If you want to be environmentally friendly, however, I just got the
Instead: Alternative Feminine Protection Cup….”

Revolutionary Voices – Page 123

(Erotic poem.)

Further Falling

Self pressed to self, breast reflects breast

as we tense, shedding senses,

pushing our muscled tongues to the edge

of death. Lover, if each touch

is a step to hell, then let

me celebrate your devil neck,

your cleft toes, the red swell

of flesh where you have bled.

ADDENDUM

[When we started researching this report, the following two
books—Mama’s Boy, Preacher’s Son, and Love & Sex: Ten Stories of
Truth—were on the GLSEN reading list for grades 7-12, but for some
reason were both recently removed from the list. Mama’s Boy was
shifted to the “Educator Resources” GLSEN reading list, while Love &
Sex was deleted from the GLSEN site entirely, undoubtedly because it
had drawn strong criticism from those who had seen it. So, although
neither of these books are technically being recommended by GLSEN for
middle-school and high-school students anymore, we include them here
as an addendum because until recently they were being recommended.]

Mama’s Boy, Preacher’s Son – Pages 90, 91 + 92

(Kevin Jennings recounts his early sexual experiences with a boy named Mike.)

Now that I finally had social status, I wanted to make sure I kept it,
and a girlfriend seemed the best way of warding off any accusations of
faggotry.

But denial was getting harder to pull off, because I had finally acted
on my same-sex feelings. Mom became a kind of second mother for many
of the teens who worked at McDonald’s, who would often drop by our
apartment to talk with her or ask her advice, so I got to know a lot
of them. One girl, Tammy became one of the “girlfriends” I took to a
school dance my sophomore year. But the one who would have the biggest
impact was a kid named Mike.

…

I can’t recall exactly how we ended up in my bedroom, except Mike
saying something like, “Wanna try it?” I nodded yes and, like a robot,
got up and followed Mike to my room.

I pulled down my shorts and lay on the bed, unmoving. Mike kept his
clothes on. While it was happening, I was in heaven. I couldn’t
believe how it felt. But as soon as it was over I went to hell, filled
with shame at what we had done. Mike obviously thought it was his turn
now, but I pulled up my shorts and told him to go—go now. I was filled
with disgust at the faggot who had lowered himself to do this “to” me.
Confused and probably hurt, Mike left.

Mike and I would have several more encounters during my sophomore
year, probably because he didn’t have many other options. The pattern
was always the same, although we did take our clothes off eventually.
Sexually speaking, it was always a one-way street, a street only Mike
traveled down, which allowed me to imagine on some level that I wasn’t
gay, only Mike was.

Mama’s Boy, Preacher’s Son – Page 98

(Kevin Jennings recounts another early sexual experience.)

When we got back to my house, we went to bed and a conversation
started. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was our teenage hormones,
but soon we were admitting our attraction to guys, then our attraction
to each other and, soon after that, we were acting on that attraction.
Peter rolled over and kissed me passionately (something I had never
let Mike do) and said, “Well, I guess we’ve both screwed up our lives
now,” and then we went at it. But it didn’t feel like I was screwing
anything up. The old cliché “it felt so right” was true: for the first
time, I was having a sexual experience with someone I was both
attracted to and cared about. This was no one-way street. Peter was so
cute and I was so turned on, soon all of our clothes were off and we
“did it all,” in a night that I can honestly say, twenty-five years
later, was one of the most exciting ones of my life.

Love & Sex: Ten Stories of Truth – Pages 160 + 161

(A groupie describes the mild orgasmic sounds of the musician she’s
having sex with.)

The sixth time we had sex—yes, I was counting, because it was
important for me to tally my emotions, and because I’d never had sex
with anyone before—I almost told him.

Michael sighed very quietly, almost whistling, which was how I knew he
came. He was never noisy in bed, and I couldn’t just feel what was
happening to him. I had to note little clues like his cum-sigh so I
could respond but still keep most of my attention focused on
memorizing Michael as he was and also recreating him as my soul mate.

Love & Sex: Ten Stories of Truth – Pages 146, 147 + 149

(Two boys have sex, ejaculating on each other. Afterward, one sucks
the other’s sperm from some fabric and enjoys its “exquisite bitter
taste.”)

I don’t remember which of us moved first. Maybe both at the same time.
My hand met the smooth curve of his forearm, and his met mine. He
brushed against me with the tips of his fingernails, up to the
ticklish place on the inside of my elbow, then back down to my wrist.
I moved my hand to his chest. I couldn’t believe how hard the muscles
were.

Matt let his body go limp so I could lift off his T-shirt.

…

In seconds we had each other’s pants off. I’m fuzzy on the logistics,
if we each undid our own or if we let the other person wrestle with
the buttons. But there we were, exposed, our jeans in a heap on the
floor.

We just lay there a minute, getting used to the sheer fact of so much
skin. I pressed close, wishing I could touch every inch of him at
once. I could be his body-hugging wet suit; he could swim in me. I was
so content with our simple proximity that I was startled when Matt
reached down to my dick. I must have jumped, because he stopped and
went rigid as a corpse. I sighed as obviously as I could to let him
know it was okay. Then he started squeezing his fingers, making a
circle, tighter and tighter, experimenting with different levels of
pressure. Cylinder, I was thinking. Base. Circumference. I recalled
the formula for calculating the volume of a solid object.

Matt had one leg locked between mine, so that his dick was smushed
between his stomach and my thigh. As his hand jerked up and down on
me, his hips humped with the same rhythm. He began murmuring under his
breath, the way people talk in their sleep. “Oh my God. This is the
best when it’s flattened, and … shit … it feels like it hurts but…”

Matt cried one last word, something like “now” or “no,” and I felt a
pool of warmth seeping on my thigh. Acute, I sang to myself.
Hyperboloid! And then I came, letting Matt’s hand catch it all.

…

When my mother came in, I told her I had homework to finish. I went
back to my room, locked the door, and lay down where Matt and I had
been. I could still smell him, still feel his heat in the air. I
picked up the T-shirt I had used to clean myself and draped it like a
mask over my face. I sucked on the place where Matt’s sperm had stained the fabric and let the exquisite bitter taste of him salt my spit.

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