I couldn't believe I was actually a participant in an erotic moment. At least, it was erotic to me. I released the hook and eye and pulled down his zi...per. Suddenly and not surprisingly, my eyes flew to his again. Gently, encouragingly, he said, "Go ahead".My right hand slid into the opening of his boxers and felt his warm skin and wiry hair. To my shock, as it slid down seeking his cock, my hand seemed to nuzzle the hair above his sex for a few moments, luxuriating in it before moving further. We would go to crummy dives in the East Village to drink beer, listen to awful bands, and flirt with grown men. Once, I gave my numberor, I should say, my mothers numberto a bassist with black hair who was twenty-seven. I cant remember if he took me to dinner or to hear music, but Im sure I had to be home by eleven, and that our conversation was stilted and humorless. I saw him only once. I was impressed by his advanced age and how shocking it would be if I told people he was my boyfriend, but. More

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