I was twelve-years-old and just starting to be nudged around by the first
stirrings of my testosterone storm. Oh, I was no stranger to my sexual
fascination nor to those impossible-to-describe delicious feelings I’d come to
seek after, touching myself under the covers at night. But I’d not been
pushed to that state of sexual hunger… that hormone-induced state of arousal
that my father referred to as “an ingrown hard on.” At least not until age
twelve.
My sexual history to that time was marked more by enthusiastic interest than
experience… if you don’t count my indefatigable