Miss Bliss

Although the concept of intercourse interested me, it also
scared me a little.  I knew I wasn’t
ready for it, but I also knew I was dying to be close to boys so I could
kiss them and be held by them.  After the
affair with Walter, there was a drought. 
I had crushes on older boys who barely noticed me, boys my own age were
largely pigs, and puberty had now brought me to the teetering edge of full-blown
adolescence, where each day was a new and deeper pit of hellish self-consciousness,
self-loathing and almost untenable horniness. 

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A Glorious Awakening: Everyone Fucks

There will be time to go back and talk about early
childhood, but I’ll start with my first conscious awareness of sex between
partners. 

I was walking with my friend Carol outside my old Brooklyn elementary school, P.S. 169, when she asked me
if I knew how babies were made.   I had
just devoured a great big greasy slice of pizza and her question made me
queasy.  I was 11 years old and puberty
was making a loud and early entrance in my life.  Yet though I was noticing boys more, and was
filled with romantic fantasies based on the novels and movies I’d read, the
mechanics of baby-making eluded me.   I
was content to leave it that way.  Even
then, I knew I didn’t want children. 
Still, once she raised the subject, curiosity got the better of me.  “How?”

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