8th grade also brought my first real experience with a team sport. Football, in all its eighth grade glory. Every day after school that fall we had practice. I learned the difference between being in shape, and not being in shape. I wasn’t too hot, and didn’t get to play much. It did put me in better shape though. This was kind of the year that the LDS church started to enter my life through others in my family. I remember defending it once, though I really didn't know much.
When the year was over, middle school ended. It was one of the funnest summers of my life. My mom had us singing in a musical. I got to know a lot of great people that were on the cast. Older high school girls, and neat people from the community. I'm sure I was nothing exciting, but I loved it.
“Band Camp” was a lot more exciting this year. I was the best trumpet player, and “hooked” up with a girl named Jane from Indiana. Every night at the dances, we danced, and went out into the dark auditorium seats to grind out lips against each other. I gave my tongue a good work out French kissing her. I don’t think I knew any other way to do it. A different friend was with me, and we actively compared notes on the girls we were after. Jane had curly brown hair, and nice breasts. She liked me, and made sure I knew it.
I also got to go with 90 kids from our regional scouting council to the National Boy Scout Jamboree. We traveled by bus, to Gettysburg, Hershey PA, Washington DC., Colonial Williamsburg, and the location where the Jamboree was held: Fort AP Hill Virginia. This was an adventure. Seeing national monuments, the capital, and getting to know the other guys in my “patrol” and troop. Once we got to the Army base, we set up our camp in perfect order, and explored all sorts of exhibits. The Beach Boys, a Country Band, and President Reagan were among the entertainment.
My patrol seemed to have a lot of tough guys on it, and we won the tug-of-war competition within our own troop, and had to compete against other troops. My tent mate was a nice kid, and fun to talk to, but wouldn’t jack off with me. It didn’t stop me from doing it myself. We sure must have been a smelly bunch—endless 14-16 year olds living in tents for 10 days.
The day I walked into High School was scary but wonderful. All of sudden I was going to school with these guys and girls who were as much as 4 years older than me. The older, not so good looking girls thought we freshmen boys were just great. One of them became my girlfriend that winter, walking back and forth to school stuff with me, going to various stuff. We’d stand out in front of her house making out in the cold air, chapping each other’s lips.
In the fall, football consumed my afternoons. I was better at it, and actually got to play some. The football players had the elite “locker room” that fall. Big wide lockers held all our junk, including the helmets. I got to wear a jock strap, and of course learned what jock itch was. When practice was over, we’d walk back from the field, sweating and having our little manly moments, jostling each other around. We’d get to the locker room, and make a dash for the shower room, have a towel handed to us when we walked out, and then dry off. Once in a while, the upperclassmen would be in there too. Holy cow, what a revelation. They were tall, hairy and in a lot of cases, well hung. It sure showed us what was coming.
I didn’t have much to do that summer, so I asked for, and became a “Counselor in Training” for the scout camp. In other words, a grunt who helped for free. We all lived together in a little tent area, and pretty much got together for meals. Most of the guys there were 17-21. They were a great bunch. Every Tuesday night we’d go to the small town bar, where the oldest one would buy us beer. It was a tiny town, probably 700 people, and the only three businesses were the bar, a convenience store, and a Farmer’s Coop. The bar was smoky, and I thought the beer was awful, but I would drink enough to get a buzz. Some of the guys drank more. It was my first experience with alcohol, other than sipping champagne at someone’s wedding. My head would feel funny, especially if I turned it fast.
I loved listening to the guys talk at the bar. There was a fellow in the bunch who was 21, in college, who worked at the swimming pool. He was 6’ 2” really dark skin, black hair. When at the pool, he had the guts to wear a black speedo. He could get away with it. At the bar he told us about making love to his girlfriend, and what her body was like. There was another young man who was a grunt like me. He was a year older than me, and from a town close to mine. He was blond, kind of muscular, and liked to look at the group magazine collection.
The last week I was there I went to the bar with him and the gang, and both of us got nicely buzzed. On our walk from the parking lot to the Counselor’s tent zone, we were talking about what it would be like to get a blow job, and I said to him:
“I’ll give you one if you’ll give me one.” I'll leave the rest to your imaginations.
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