IMPORTANT NOTE TO READERS! - As an official disclaimer, it must be noted and strongly emphasized that no sexual relationships between "underage" individuals and adults—either consensual or non-consensual—ever actually takes place within the descriptions and the general narrative of this literary work. As you read this story, you will come to realize that the brunt of what is being described deals with fantasy, but mostly with the psychological development of this human's mind on the subject of sex.
So, what you are about to read is a self-confessional/self-psychoanalytical short story—an autobiography of sorts—which attempts to explain the development and nature of a personal obsession, while also describing points of early fantasy.
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PART 3 - Come è dolce fare niente - How sweet to do nothing.
To best describe, in further detail, my state of mind and behavior during those tumultuous stages of uncertainty is in essence a somewhat easy task. For the most part, my experience is not unlike many others.
I had hit that "acceptable/moderator-approved," and I might add, "forced-Christian-moral-code/precept" legal age of "18 years-old-or-above" period of my life; and what a mixed bag of biological and emotional development it was! Along with the fast-paced, forever-confusing, ever-changing anatomical and physiological landscapes of that period of adjustment—as is the case with most all young people—came the arrival of whom I'll call for legal reasons, the "sex urge fairy." But in my case, she seemed to have come with a vengeance!
She didn't arrive quietly or with any measure of subtlety. No. For me she came accompanied by the harsh sounds of tolling bells, locomotive steam whistles and blaring car horns. It was twelve o'clock midnight on New Years Eve for my ever-rigid dick, and the party was just beginning!
My fairy ushered in this new era donned in a sexy Sorelle Fontana laced bodice, sporting a tight black skirt and wearing the hottest stiletto heels from Fredrick's of Hollywood on her feet. She immediately set about her work, holding a lit Kent cigarette perched daintily between two fingers of one hand, while sprinkling her potent magic dust over my stiff wand with the other.
Both my libido and my vivid imagination seemed to go into high gear coordinately. With more frequent, uncontrollable erections cropping up—and while happening at the most inopportune times—my trips to the loo for relief grew in number. These impromptu 'jaunts-to-jerk' more often were goaded during the altogether customary cake and coffee klatches which took place almost daily in the kitchen and dining room at my parents' house.
To put these gatherings in a clearer perspective, and to better explain their unique significance—not only in social and cultural terms, but in relation to my frequent trips to the bathroom to empty my aching testicles—I guess I should diverge momentarily to describe my heritage and upbringing with a bit more detail.
As I had mentioned, I am full Italian. I was raised to love life and all the pleasures and pains which it brings. I experienced all of this bounty on a narrow inner-city street crammed with brick row homes in a tight-knit, working-class Italian community; a neighborhood located just blocks from the same type of community in a Jewish section of town.
I mention this last point because in essence there are very few differences between the cultural components of the Jewish-American and the Italian-American social experience on the same economic strata.
