Tent Talk and Bliss

 On a recent camp-out with some dear friends. The sleeping accommodations put me and their 12 year old son in the same tent alone together. First of all it was about a 12x8 foot tent and each of us had our own beds/sleeping bags, so there was nothing suspicious about that. But the young fellow and I are very close friends, and he is unusually affectionate, which gets no objection from me.

 It was lights-out and we retired to our humble tent. Although it was a rather chilly spring night, our tent was complimented by a heater and electric power to keep us cozy. He sat down near to me on a moving blanket we had tossed centrally on the floor to help keep debris out of the tent. Soon he was gathered close to my bed as we chatted and pondered the challenges of Middle School life and how to determine what characteristics of a child-hood friend gains them merits to withstand teen-age drama, and the beginning stages of personal integrity. Obviously I could recall a few stories to share and the conversation blossomed in mere seconds.

To bide the time, I turned him about and began to scratch his back under his shirt. He listed a complaint how his tail-bone has been aching, so I asked him to lay down and I can work on his back with a massage. He didn't seem too interested for a moment, but soon laid face down and I lifted his shirt to his shoulders, but he then removed it completely. I had a bottle of massage oil already staged and ready at the front of my back-pack. I drizzled a few healthy drops on my hands then proceeded to rub the overall of his back, and shoulders.


 We just continued talking like it was nothing unusual. Eventually I did lower his pants some to rub near his tailbone, but I was very cautious to avoid touching his buttocks. He never complained nor said a word about any of it being odd to him.

 With a natural concern for caressing his body into relaxed comfort, I ended up massaging him for over an hour. He loved it, and shamefully I was a bit aroused from the intimate contact of his smooth flesh. Since it was dark in the tent, and he did not see my accidental tent happening, it was effectively a non-event. But Jeez his skin is so soft and with massage oil, he felt so heavenly to touch. The warmth of this human touch and confided touch lingered in my memory firmly into my return home, and the pleasured moments when he allowed me to soothe him  

I know this was a bit of a tease to introduce the little story this way, but to me it was more satisfying than intimacy. I've been longing to touch someone and soothe them in a way like this. For him it was a long relaxing indulgence. In hindsight, I have no shame or regrets about the evening. 

Anonymous

Mom's Shutdown

I was on the way home this afternoon and had a sudden flash: Why not stop at the local ice-cream parlor and treat myself to a burger for supper plus a nice dessert? So of course I obeyed the impulse. It was not yet rush hour at the ice-cream place and I had my choice of seats. With no thought whatsoever I sat two tables away from a threesome: Two boys and a woman.

  The boys were enjoying themselves with a phone or perhaps a hand-held gaming unit. They sat together as tightly as possible, sometimes leaning forward onto the table top. There were four busy hands all over the little console and two heads bumped tightly together. The table bore testimony to their appetites. They had consumed huge burgers and big servings of fries. Now - when they could take their hands away from the game - they were working on ice-cream sundaes.

   I analyzed them. They were pre-pubertal, although crowding the mark. One of them leaned against the woman from time to time but the other boy never touched her. Therefore, the boy with the big butt, black shorts and brown hair was the woman's son.

  The other one (blonde, smaller and thin) was respectful of the woman but that's as far as it went. Examining that data, the two boys couldn't be brothers. One was the woman's son and the other was his friend, possibly best friend. Or even best-best-best friend. The whole group enjoyed each other. It didn't seem to be anybody's birthday, just one of those great moments when boys have fun being boys. Occasionally the guys dissolved into laughter, grabbing each other or trading light punches with their fists.


  At one point Big-Butt leaned back in his chair. His T-shirt slid up, revealing his navel. Skinny immediately poked his bud's bare belly-button with a finger and the two of them nearly fell off their chairs laughing and grabbing handfuls of each other.

  Another minute or so passed. Skinny pushed his chair back and announced, "I'm going to the bathroom."

 Big-Butt stood also, clearly intending to accompany his friend. But there was a complication.

  "One at a time in the restroom," Mom stated. She didn't raise her voice, didn't make a big deal out of it. But she had made her position clear.

  "Oh," said the skinny boy, surprised. There was an element of disappointment in his voice as if he'd been totally blindsided.

  "Mom!" Big-Butt protested. "We're in the fifth grade!"

 But there was no discussion and the boys went to the restroom one at a time. It seemed to me that they returned to the table much sooner than if they'd made a buddy-buddy expedition out of it.

I couldn't help adding my own silent protest: "Oh, Mom! Don't be a grinch!"

Arnold Stockford