More ... except I couldn’t articulate what “more” meant, even in my own mind. And I knew he was embarrassed, and that if I stayed, he might get ...ad. I didn’t want Uncle Bob to be mad at me.“Night,” I said, and I turned and literally ran back to my bedroom, like some scared little girl.I plopped down on my bed, trying to be disgusted with how badly everything seemed to have gone. I couldn’t be disappointed, though. I had seen my first penis. And it had gone from soft and short and floppy, to an. It’s not over. It’s one guy. More will come, trust me,’” Lauren said. “I looked at her. She was actually pretty. I did not think she was gay. That was the last thought in my head. But there was something about her that was attractive. She had long black hair, soft skin and lips that were so delicious.” Lauren smiled, reminiscing. Soon she was crying. Her friend held her. “She had a rough-around-the-edges feel, but she was such a softie. We became friends. Eventually we kissed at a party. Some. More

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