Chapter 18: Four Thoughts
Patrick’s good luck kiss sent me into a spin of thoughts. I first recalled my junior year at East Templeton High School when I fell madly, uncontrollably, and irreversibly in love with Byron English, a senior with bulging muscles and an unstoppable libido. Hadn’t Byron kissed like Patrick, wooing me into a sublime state of lust mixed with unmanageable love? Didn’t that beefcake, with his red head of hair and plated chest of matching hair, knock the wind out of me during a home game of soccer between the East Templeton Tigers and the Hawkington Hawks? Byron English’s semi-hard c**k felt similar to Patrick’s in the silo: plump, tubular, and long. And just as I had blown the soccer player at seventeen, on my knees, hidden among our peers in a janitor’s unused closet
