Even though he sat in the shade he was completely naked, plus he had a gigantic erection that he made absolutely no attempt to conceal from me. I stood there paralysed. He gestured to the space next to him and said, "Come on over." He had an accent. Australian. And after standing there stupidly staring at his gigantic member, I slowly, shyly made my way over to him. He was very handsome, longish dark brown hair, clear blue eyes and a mustache concealing full sensuous lips There is a first time for every thing, I reasoned, and as I took my place next to him wondered however was I going to explain any of this to Dad.
Odd, after such an intense and beautiful encounter with God that here I am, while seated with my friends in the living room to read a bit more from Karen Wilson's memoir, that I am remembering in lurid detail, no, reliving in lurid detail, my first ever sexual encounter. It may be prudent to say something to Carl and Francois, but not yet. It still seems too soon for this. But God also feels present, strongly present, and I think He is walking me through these memories. For healing no doubt....
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