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the intensity with which he was staring at me. He said that he thought I had a very nice penis. I didn’t know what to say so I merely shrugged my shoulders and smiled back. I’d never thought about it before. I finished, buttoned up, and excused myself by saying that I really had to run off right away or I would be in deep trouble not only with Don but also with Dad.
    I thought no more about what had just happened. All I knew was that I was in for a solid hollering when I got to that cowshed.
    A week or so later I was over at the Petersons again, cavorting around the property with their kids. At the end of the day we were sitting in the kitchen eating cookies and gulping down milk when Joe Peterson strode in and sat down. Once again he made small talk with me and then called my attention to the fact that darkness was falling outside. He said it was probably time I started out for home. I had been having such a good time that I hadn’t noticed how late it was getting. Once more I began to panic about not being at home to help Don, Dad, and the hired hand with the evening milking. Joe Peterson got up and in a very friendly manner said that he’d walk me across the road. Turning to his wife and kids he said he wouldn’t be gone long.
    As his family started to prepare the table for dinner Peterson briefly looked at me and winked. I don’t know why but something clicked inside me. Was he trying to tell me something? I wasn’t sure, but the answer came as soon as we stepped outside.
    He told me to follow him to the woodshed, where he said he wanted to show me something. He gently laid his hand on the nape of my neck and steered me toward the shed. He took me inside and closed the wooden door behind us. Then, in the nicest of ways, he invited me to sit down next to him on a large flat chopping block that filled the middle of the floor. He laid his hand on my knee. Looking me straight in the eye he whispered in a low voice and told me that he had something to say. I wasn’t sure what would come next but because of Peterson’s tender, reassuring demeanor I didn’t feel frightened or threatened. His tone and composure made me feel completely relaxed. I listened carefully as he searched for words, telling me that he liked me in a very special way, a way that I was to keep a closely guarded secret between us. He told me things I had never heard anyone say before. Within a few minutes I became aware of the fact that he had opened my fly, button by button, softly confessing how attractive I was to him. The next thing I knew he was fondling me. Our eyes were locked together as I felt strange sensations in my loins and my body. After a few minutes, Peterson closed my fly, gave me a pinch on the cheek, and then demurely leaned over and laid a kiss on my forehead. He made me swear not to tell anyone what had happened and I nodded in agreement.
    I guess you could call that my very first sexual encounter. I was far too young to fully comprehend the implications of what had happened but that little session was my first personal portal into the mysterious world of human sexual dynamics.
    In the weeks and months that followed, unbeknownst to anyone, Peterson and I had innumerable secret meetings. In fact, he replaced my father as the dominant male figure in my life. Unlike with Dad, Peterson and I could talk to each other on many levels. He cared about how I felt, what I thought, what my views were. Dad never had time for stuff like that. Peterson kept reminding me never to mention anything to anyone, especially my parents.
    As the seasons came and went our private encounters became a little more open, with any prevailing inhibitions now cast aside. We would both undress completely and he encouraged me to touch his genitals as he played with mine. One winter’s day as a small fire crackled in the little stove in the corner of the shed he touched himself as he fondled me. Then he began to masturbate. With his eyes squeezed tightly shut,