What Is Sex Like?

excitement 2

but back to my story... Masters and Johnson had, in that puzzle language they liked so much, reckoned out that human sex happened in four stages... the first be'n Excitement.  We had all decided to not read ahead till we had gone over each stage and come to an agreement bout it.

But Lily Mae, the youngest of us, managed to forget that decision, and read up to where people's puzzle parts started to fit together.  Wellsir, that had ended up with her  throw'n a big ol hissy fit down on us from the lowest limb on the ancient sycamore beside Dry Cave.

As I sized up the situation, her words came into ear-focus. Through her bawl'n, red-faced hissy, she was screech'n on as to how her Mama said babies were for sale on Friday nights, right out of the big backdoor corncrib at the Feed 'n Seed - right there, longside of the geraniums - and her mama never told a lie!

Now, I'd like to tell you that we comforted that poor girl, but we were the Swamp Warriors...the savages that had, just the last summer, successfully caught, killed, and cooked a black snake.

(Just a side note here - black snake does NOT taste like chicken. After it's quick and gruesome death by get'n flattened under a rock , we had threaded it on a stick and cooked the thing, whole, over an open flame.  After it's insides had boiled up and split open -- expose'n a half-digested mouse -- and with heated double-dares and threats - - we had all tasted a small bit of black snake flesh.
Suffice it to say that we discovered, beyond a shadow of doubt, that black snake is not in our food chain.  If we were s'posed to eat black snake, the Good Lord would never have made taste buds.)

But, back to the point...we were the bad kids!  Swamp Warriors didn't cry!  And we sure didn't put up with Lily's lack of decorum for long.  Henry ran back into the cave,  grabbed one of Frank's old nudie mags, and raced over to the tree.  

He opened it to a particularly fanciful page and shouted up at Lilly,  "Hey! Cry-puppy! look at this!....this sure as hell ain't no feed and seed, baby!!!"

Hiccup'n and sniffle'n, Lily Mae looked down at Henry and his offer'n.

"I don't wanta look at that ol stuff",  Lily called down to the boy stand'n strong, feet apart and balanced on a hill of shimmer'n swamp grass...her lifelong hero, with all the answers. ... her protector turned tormentor.

Now, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you somethin bout ol Lily Mae... she was the ten year youngest... the baby in a family of 4 older brothers.     I spose it sounds right harsh, but her daddy said he was just glad that at least this git hadn't tried to kill his wife like his boys had... but a girl? He'd just as soon have put the birth'n money into a good squirrel dog from up near Purcellville.  

Anyway, Lily Mae was our a Nervous Nelly... she was all the time wring'n her hands, cover'n her eyes, and tell'n bout all the dire consequences that hid round back of every bush.  I think that's why she is such a good mama now.. two girls and a boy and one on the way! And there's not one of those kids who don't swear she has an extra eye on the back of her head... that, and she's a witch who flies round on a broomstick all day.. it's the  only way they can figure how she sees all the rotten things they do in school and still manages to get home fore they do!

There are lotsa things bout that little woman I just don't understand... but the proof is in the pud'n.  You'd think she'd be a real pain in the neck to live with, but her family loves her beyond recall.  I've seen her group-slap the tar outta her kids, with a wet tea towel, but woe betide the fool that ever says a word gainst their mama!

Mostly, Henry had always been the only one could calm her. But, on that hot June day, Henry had lost his patience with the red-faced banchee, screech'n down at him, that she didn't want to look at his magazine.

Red-faced, himself, stomp'n the dirt and wave'n pages up toward Lily Mae, he exploded.

"Nobody does! You dumbass nit!" Henry hollered up at her. " That's why they make it so we can take a couple look-sees and then NOT hafta talk bout it with the grownups!  Frank kept em in the bottom of his trunk...and then, when he left, he gave me the  whole mess!   So he musta knowed I'd be need'n it!  Do you wanta talk to your Daddy bout this stuff? Really!? "

"No..." Lilly snuffled..." But I don't wanta do that!" she whined, as she covered her eyes and pointed to the enthusiastically entwined  couple on the bright-colored page.

" I wanta buy my babies! ....last time mama did that magazine thing with daddy, it almost killed her! Henry, you know good an well we got three little, white gravestones cause of that sex stuff!   I'll just save up and buy mine...thank you, kindly!"

Sarah looked up from the blueback beetle she had been tease'n and said thoughtfully, "That book says there are four phases.  I reckon only one of em might kill you, Lily-pill.  You best learn bout the rest..seems like we should know stuff like that"

"Yeah, girl...come on down! Don't be a boob!" we all called... use'n various degrees of cuss words and cajolery.  Then we tortured her with all the secret sex book words that we had recently mastered, till ol Lily decided to climb down.

The Swamp Warriors were a tight clan once more... and we gathered back 'round the counsel rock.

"So", said Marshall, the biggest of us...the gentlest of us...."so let's see bout these phases.  I've heard that same tone in his voice as he bends over to tend a scared, sick colt but, back then, his voice was a calm breeze in the midst of our hot, squawk'n wind.  Even then, Marshall appreciated the efficacy of a quiet voice and the camo bandages he kept stuffed in his back pocket.  He understood - even young as he was - the advantage of a few calm words.

Our voices got softer as we huddled over the first chapter of Masters and Johnson's Excitement: Phase 1 of Human Sexual it.  As the shadows grew long, and the fade'n light dulled the rich greens and golds of the swamp to dusky shades of blue and grey, our small group of savages pondered the mystery of excitement.

We wondered bout why the authors set such a high importance on it.
After all, excitement was only a good thing if everything worked out right...the right Christmas present...a healthy new colt...enough eggs for cake.   Frank had been terrifically excited bout get'n in to the Marine Corp, and Henry had shared in the excitement.  But now, Frank wouldn't be home... ever again... and, if anyone remembered the excitement at all, it came with a tight chest and sting'n eyes.... with a heavy sadness that time would never heal.

We had decided to ponder the excitement thing till the next counsel just as, in the darken'n distance, 'cross pasture and dirt lane, a farm bell clanged for come-to-supper.   We scurried to put out the little fire and stow our sex  books on a high, dry shelf in the Cave.

As we trooped across the sharp edge of the swamp, and onto the narrow path toward our bikes, we realized that it would be a full week before we would be return'n to our camp.
Plant'n time was on us, end of year tests demanded attention, and three of us had heifers freshen'n with  4H calves come'n in.

Assurances of return and tribe allegiance drifted over the fields as we each hauled up on our bikes and started down our own paths home.
"See ya, soon!" , " Later, gator!" , "Easy does it, peeps.", "Ye-ye-ye-yeehaw!"
We didn't dawdle.

We were country kids and had things to do.