” I tried to cover it with my hand, but it was useless. She already knew my cock was bursting to get out.“What do you call it?” she asked.“Cal... what?”“Your cock. My boyfriend calls his ‘Mr. Polite.’ Cute, huh?”“Mr. Polite? A cock’s not exactly polite.”“His is,” she explained. “It always stands up when I come in the room.”She laughed and I joined in, in an embarrassed sort of way.“Oh, I see. Well, I call mine Mr. B.”“Mr. B? But you’re Mr. B!”“I know; but he’s more Mr. B. than I am. He does all. As Phillip got out of the shower, Amy pushed a naked Samantha in.The next Wednesday, Sam expected her menstrual flow to start, but it didn't. Neither did she have any of the signs of what would, in a later decade, be called pre-menstrual syndrome. There were no home test kits in those days. Either a girl went to the doctor to see if she could kill a rabbit, or she waited.Sam waited. She couldn't admit to her parents that she might be pregnant. And, sometimes, girls were late.That weekend they. More

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