The scrubby jack pines along the upper dune ridge give an odor mixed with early summer ferns which penetrates lightly, but unmistakably. Slightly resinous, fresh and cool against the sun baking early afternoon sand. There’s a moisture residue from under the ferns and beneath the dune surface as backdrop in the aroma. Michael Immanuel David advised a healing effect in absorbing it all fully. He slipped off his corduroy shorts. His penis was long, although not erect. He said mine was average length, but thicker.
We had been the first our age to mature physically – to grow pubic hair and develop. At the time this seemed somehow important. Michael also thought it bonded us somehow. He was always trying to scavenge to identify bonds – wanting someone to call friend, to call him friend. I liked the feeling of being naked outside. We had a few talks sitting under those jack pines that summer. Michael liked to tell stories about his mother being a witch or how he was really descended from Jesse James.
We always stayed sunbathing on the ridge where we could see or hear anyone coming. Then one time we started walking back down the trail from the dune ridge into the woods, but then there are mosquitoes and twigs. It didn’t feel good and I didn’t see the point. I thought it could be funny to run into someone while we were walking naked, but not so funny as needing to explain it to any adult. The next week, I climbed into the fire pit we’d dug in the lower blow-out for a group fire after supper.
We hadn’t gathered wood yet, so the pit was empty. I reclined and combed sand over my body until I was a vague human shaped hill. It was cool and soothing. Michael David formed sand breasts and vagina over me – chest and groin. I didn’t say anything, as he laughed, then I laughed. I looked at him in the eyes and thought he was going to straddle me. He then got serious looking and said, if you want me to do it, then it’s no fun – there’s no more challenge. He dressed and left.