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When I was a teenager I didn't have much luck with girls. In fact, girls scared me to death. It wasn't that I felt no desire for them. I was completely obsessed with their bell-shaped bottoms. I couldn't take my eyes off Carol Rukavino's ass any time she got in front of me. Like most boys, I had a permanent erection from age twelve to twenty-one when it was finally christened. I was kind of a late starter. There was one point though when I was eighteen, I almost lost my virginity. It was because I bought a cute little English Hillman Minx convertible. I was the only boy in my school that had a convertible, and even neater, it was foreign. Suddenly girls loved me. Overnight I was popular. Within a week a cute little honey unbuttoned my shirt and rubbed my belly. I nearly fainted. In two weeks we were going steady. Winter came, and the convertible was not only cool, it was cold. I was on top of my honey in the front seat, and couldn't get in the right position. I opened the door at my feet, but my head kept bumping the passenger door. I opened it and a howling blizzard came in and froze all the possibilities of that night...

The first step that begins the thousand mile journey can also be a stumble

Baby Jane. She was a peroxide blonde, probably only a few years older than me. I was twenty-one, and she was more like forty-one, well-seasoned, sizzled and saturated. She had done more things, been more places and used words I believed were physically impossible for the female species. She shocked me the way she would use a twelve letter word as an adjective a verb and a noun, but astounded me  even more in the physical transformation she made from the street to the stage - from a puddy­faced Georgia country girl to a Hugh Hefner vision of female sexual perfection. "Look at these tits," she said to me in the dressing room. I looked, I had to. I saw them four times a night anyway. "They are one hundred per cent American real! Not one drop of silicon! I can't believe Carol Jean Doe-Doe has made it so big! it is an outrage! She can't even dance. I should know, I was right beside her in Paris and Tokyo and Las Vegas. No rhythm at all. God it makes me mad! Nothing but silicone! They don't even look real! Not like mine!" She turned and looked proudly at her marvelous perfect breasts in the mirror. "They are total perfection!" she said. "It's not fair!" I could see she was right. "You turn on, kid?", she asked. "Turn on what?" I asked back.