while Mr. Mayfield told us stories about fishing with his daddy and brothers and Mrs. Mayfield reminisced about camping trips they’d taken as a family, Jamie and I waited.
After the sun had gone down and the supper dishes were cleaned, Jamie and I were able to grab a couple of flashlights and escape to our sanctuary. That tree house felt like a safe harbor surrounded by stormy seas. There were storms at our homes, storms at school; we were surrounded. The tree house was one place where we could be free.
Climbing up the ladder into the dark tree house alone with Jamie made the physical side of our relationship much less abstract. We were finally completely alone. The reality of it made me suddenly nervous. What does he expect to happen tonight? I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I wasn’t sure what I was ready for yet. My apprehension grew with each step I took up the ladder.
When I came through the trapdoor, Jamie was turning on a battery-operated lantern next to the bed. The knowledge that he was getting the bed ready for us made that anxiety in my stomach twist into knots. I was glad he had already turned on the fan. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable in the small space, but I was starting to sweat. I stood back near the closed door as he tossed his shoes into a corner, took off his shirt, and sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for me.
Going over to the radio, I turned it on, reducing the volume until it was just background noise. Then, still stalling, I took off my shoes and arranged them neatly next to his. I pulled my T-shirt over my head, folded it neatly, and set it on top of my bag. Blowing out a deep breath, I climbed onto the mattress and sat across from him.
“Brian, I…,” he started, but then abruptly stopped. He struggled with what he wanted to say, the words getting stuck before they were able to get out. “I just….” He sighed and looked down at the mattress.
“I’m not sure what you’re expecting,” he continued in a rush, “and I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m not sure I’m ready to… to go all the way.”
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. His hurt eyes met mine, and I knew he thought I was laughing at him.
“I’ve been thinking that very same thing ever since we finished the supper dishes,” I said and took his hand; he relaxed and looked somewhat relieved. He must have been as worried about disappointing me as I was about him. “We don’t have to do anything other than just lie here and talk for a while.” Reaching over, I angled the fan so it blew directly on us, and then I relaxed onto the pillows next to him. Seeing his open arms, I rolled over into them without any hesitation or doubt, resting my head on his warm, bare chest.
“Do you think it hurts?” Jamie asked in a whisper. I knew he was talking about sex, and I was kind of glad he couldn’t see my face, which was turning pink.
“I don’t know… I think it probably does… at least at first,” I stammered. “If it hurt, no one would do it, though, so it must feel good for both of them.” Worried a little at his question, I reached down and took the hand that wasn’t stroking my arm, holding it loosely in mine.
“The more we do together, though, brings us closer. I just… I wanted to talk about it… with you. You know?”
“I know,” I said, nodding and turning my head to kiss his chest. “I want to talk to you about it too, because I love the things we do together. One day I want to take that step with you, but I want to wait until we’re both at least seventeen.”
“I think that’s a good plan,” he replied, still stroking my arm. I ran my hand lightly over his chest, loving the way his bare skin felt under my touch.
“How do you think guys in a relationship decide who is going to… uhm… give and who… receives?” I asked in a heated whisper, almost afraid to ask it out loud, confirming that I didn’t know. Receiving sounded like it would be painful, at least at first,
After the sun had gone down and the supper dishes were cleaned, Jamie and I were able to grab a couple of flashlights and escape to our sanctuary. That tree house felt like a safe harbor surrounded by stormy seas. There were storms at our homes, storms at school; we were surrounded. The tree house was one place where we could be free.
Climbing up the ladder into the dark tree house alone with Jamie made the physical side of our relationship much less abstract. We were finally completely alone. The reality of it made me suddenly nervous. What does he expect to happen tonight? I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I wasn’t sure what I was ready for yet. My apprehension grew with each step I took up the ladder.
When I came through the trapdoor, Jamie was turning on a battery-operated lantern next to the bed. The knowledge that he was getting the bed ready for us made that anxiety in my stomach twist into knots. I was glad he had already turned on the fan. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable in the small space, but I was starting to sweat. I stood back near the closed door as he tossed his shoes into a corner, took off his shirt, and sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for me.
Going over to the radio, I turned it on, reducing the volume until it was just background noise. Then, still stalling, I took off my shoes and arranged them neatly next to his. I pulled my T-shirt over my head, folded it neatly, and set it on top of my bag. Blowing out a deep breath, I climbed onto the mattress and sat across from him.
“Brian, I…,” he started, but then abruptly stopped. He struggled with what he wanted to say, the words getting stuck before they were able to get out. “I just….” He sighed and looked down at the mattress.
“I’m not sure what you’re expecting,” he continued in a rush, “and I don’t want to disappoint you, but I’m not sure I’m ready to… to go all the way.”
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. His hurt eyes met mine, and I knew he thought I was laughing at him.
“I’ve been thinking that very same thing ever since we finished the supper dishes,” I said and took his hand; he relaxed and looked somewhat relieved. He must have been as worried about disappointing me as I was about him. “We don’t have to do anything other than just lie here and talk for a while.” Reaching over, I angled the fan so it blew directly on us, and then I relaxed onto the pillows next to him. Seeing his open arms, I rolled over into them without any hesitation or doubt, resting my head on his warm, bare chest.
“Do you think it hurts?” Jamie asked in a whisper. I knew he was talking about sex, and I was kind of glad he couldn’t see my face, which was turning pink.
“I don’t know… I think it probably does… at least at first,” I stammered. “If it hurt, no one would do it, though, so it must feel good for both of them.” Worried a little at his question, I reached down and took the hand that wasn’t stroking my arm, holding it loosely in mine.
“The more we do together, though, brings us closer. I just… I wanted to talk about it… with you. You know?”
“I know,” I said, nodding and turning my head to kiss his chest. “I want to talk to you about it too, because I love the things we do together. One day I want to take that step with you, but I want to wait until we’re both at least seventeen.”
“I think that’s a good plan,” he replied, still stroking my arm. I ran my hand lightly over his chest, loving the way his bare skin felt under my touch.
“How do you think guys in a relationship decide who is going to… uhm… give and who… receives?” I asked in a heated whisper, almost afraid to ask it out loud, confirming that I didn’t know. Receiving sounded like it would be painful, at least at first,
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