Now I knew I could not only do these things, but that I liked these things, at least with him. Did that mean I was gay? I recalled the shame and gu...lt I felt after that night on the boat years ago, when I’d had my only encounter with another man. I didn’t feel that shame and guilt now. I felt, well, like a burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt liberated, in a way. I thought about the women I’d slept with, about the wife I’d once fucked with such abandon, about the feel of her. I found myself wondering what she looked liked under her dress -- especially beneath those tight panties. Was her mound bare and smooth, or did she already have a sprinkling of baby-soft down? Would her pubes be the same bright red as the thick, unruly curls that tumbled to her shoulders, or were they of a more neutral hue? Had her breasts begun to bud beneath that white school blouse, or did she have the chest of a young boy? Were her nipples especially pronounced? Would they stiffen if I. More

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