Michael put on his boots and his safari hat and went out into the back yard to hunt for girls. Many would have admired his grit and determination, throwing himself into situations so dangerously imbalanced to his detriment. He didn't carry a firearm or knife, not even a whip. A lasso, his lone defense, hung from his belt, but he knew how to use it. He surveyed the yard, checked behind trees, saw out of the corner of his eye movements in the tall grass. That's where they were hiding, he told himself. A sudden giggle, interrupted as quickly as it began, confirmed his subliminal impression. Like the free-spirited coyotes of the Great Plains he cornered them before they could reconceal themselves or dash away...
"Alright babes, I've got you surrounded. Come out!"
They giggled again.
"Come out here and kiss me or I'll tie you up!" he called to them resolutely, in a voice that threw down a gauntlet, daring them not to obey. They peered out from the grass at him.
"Shall we kiss him?" the one said to the other.
"It might be educational..." she answered
"Hmm, yes, it might be..." her friend went on, playfulness in her eyes.
Michael stood, stone-faced, not flinching a moment as they approached him. It was great being ten years old, he thought to himself. He hoped it would be as easy with girls when he was sixteen.
Story #152
3 comments:
Those babes appear to be 16. Let's hope he's as successful in the hunt when he's old enough to buy a tag and go after the big game. He should however be warned that the Gaming Commission has a daily catch limit, and that common sense says that you should only take as much as you can eat; both of those dictums say he should stick to one. Unless of course it's catch-and-release, not creatures you're going to bring home to stuff and mount.
Pardon me, must go check my lavender shrub in the back yard and see if anything is lurking behind it.
When I was seven, I began to have similar daydreams. That year I captured two. Twins. I also had another a few rows back who drew dirty pictures of she and I. That lasted until the teacher made an intercept. When I was sixteen, I laid with a friend's sister and her friend in some grass in a field, stoned, all fingers and wet kisses. At 29, a fellow writer and her younger sister were in my bed, purring like kittens at each side, happy with half. Versed from an early age in thinking about two at once, it was a cakewalk.
Hi Anonymous, I have to admit that this story is the first autobiographical story I've written here, though I changed things around a bit. When I was ten there were these two girls I often ran into where I used to play. I kept asking them to take their clothes off, but they never did. They never got angry either, which was something, I suppose. By age 16 I madea Woody Allen look like Don Juan.
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