She looked at me, and I said, “Gail, I can’t ever imagine Doug doing something like that. Especially to you. You’re like a second mother to him.”
“Are you saying I’m lying? Do you think I’d make this up?”
“No … no. Of course not. It’s something so hard to believe out of the blue like this. This is nothing like Doug. Nothing at all,” I said.
“Do you want to hear the rest, or go on believing … believing … whatever?”
I could feel the tension building in Gail and didn’t want this to break her all apart at this point. “Take your time,” I said, and patted her hand.
“My hand was on his penis for at most a second before I realized what had happened. But not before it registered that it was hard, and even in that cold water—hot. I called him a pig and threatened to tell you. He laughed again. I guess it’s easier to laugh when you’re completely naked and so is your aunt. He said ‘I bet you never felt anything like that before’ and I shot back ‘Don’t flatter yourself.'”
“He swam behind me and encircled my waist with his arms. I could feel their strength, their power. Such a difference from Vance’s flabby hugs. He held me tight with his left arm and then cupped my right breast for the briefest time with his right hand. I yelped and twisted, but could feel the palm of his hand glide over my nipple, which was already hard from the water. He whispered in my ear ‘I always wondered what your gorgeous tits felt like.'”
“I told him he had to stop and asked him again why he was doing this. He said because he had such a sexy aunt. He guided my hand again to his penis and again I took it away. This time without saying anything. I told him I had to get out of the pool because I was getting cold. He said he would let me get out if I didn’t take my hand away for a count of five, and before I could say no, he put my hand again on his erect penis. This time I didn’t pull away. After all the diving and the contact, I think I was curious in a way about it—how long and how hard it really was.”
“He started counting ‘One’ … unconsciously my fingers tried to encircle it, but couldn’t … ‘Two’ … Doug let go of my wrist and my hand stayed right there … ‘Three’ … my hand squeezed and I gasped at how hard it was … ‘Four’ … I glided my hand up and down its full length, from the tip to its base. He had stopped counting, but my hand continued to move, slowly move.”
I was in shock. My best friend was describing giving my son a handjob. Shock—but I didn’t freak out, I didn’t jump up—I sat there—in shock.
“Finally, after what seemed a long time, he said ‘Five! C’mon Aunt Gail, I’m going to towel you dry’ and he swam to the ladder and climbed out. He turned to give me a full view of what I had in my hand just seconds before. I swear it had to be twice what Vance has. And Vance, on his best day was NEVER that hard.”
“Gail, what were you thinking?” This was the first time I had voiced anything that could be thought of as judgment. After all, this WAS my son she was talking about. More specifically my son’s penis. Let’s face it, it’s just a penis, right?