Date: Sun, 8 May 2005 07:28:05 -0700
From: B Keeper <silvershimmer@earthlink.net>
Subject: Pretend Ten (transgender/masturbation)

			       "Pretend Ten"

				    by

			     Timothy Stillman


Pretend ten.

Pretend summer mid. And alone.

Pretend you are in your summer swing on the blue porch,
swing of green.

The grass is thick and filled with sweat and sun.

The night does not like you.

Pretend the day does.

Pretend you have just discovered you have a body.

Pretend this does not scare you.

Pretend that you are happy you are in this form.

Pretend you have just discovered your penis.

Pretend it is pretty.

Pretend it is almost always hard.

Pretend that just three weeks ago, you discovered its coral
magic.

Pretend your first orgasm.

A sweet and mesmerizing tickle.

That makes you feel electricity all through you.

Pretend that your whole body feels happy.

When you do what you are not supposed to do.

Pretend that this is the first masturbation summer.

Pretend you are reading "The Hand-Reared Boy" by Brian
W. Aldiss.

In that green swing.

Pretend you are wearing khaki shorts and a white shirt.

Pretend you are wearing Kids.

No socks.

No briefs.

Pretend you are pretending to be Horatio Stubbs.

In the Aldiss novel.

Pretend you are being taught sex when you are tiny, like he
was.

Pretend the maid finds you masturbating.

And shows you other more interesting things to do,.

Pretend you fix it with your brother to have sex with his
girl.

And then older, boarding school, and the supreme kindness
of the circle jerks that leaves no one out.

Pretend that you go out at night naked.

Pretend that you wish someone could see you.

With your pipe cleaner thin limbs.

With your little hairless hard on.

With the one testicle that will not descend till you are 12.

Pretend that you have your hand in your pocket and are
playing with your penis.

Pretend you like how it tingles now.

Pretend that you are looking at the early blue of a July
morning sky.

Pretend there are the occasional cars driving by.

Pretend that you wish someone was your friend.

Pretend that you feel good.

That your legs are growing and you are higher up than you
were this time last year.

Pretend you are running through the night.

Clinging to bushes.

Racing through the brick yard down the street.

Down the center of the streets where you live.

Where there are dim yellow lights from the light poles.

That flood your nakedness.

With the mosquitoes having feasts on you.

With the late night lightening bugs lighting your way.

Paper lantern like from China signaling you back home.

Pretend you take out at night and run the streets with the
hot wind on your bare flanks.

Pretend you are reading also "Sweet Marpassa" and the
sex scenes with the young beautiful aunt and the ten year
old boy. Jacking off. Later on, he, older, making love.

Pretend also "The Harrad Experiment" about a college
devoted solely to sex.

Pretend that you have just dry cum.

Pretend you shiver.

Pretend you wish you could do this all the time.

Pretend you do not know its wrong.

Though it is.

Though no one has told you that it is.

You know.

It hurts sometimes.

But it is worth it.

The heat is a vast pump of wet sack cloth.

Which you wear all summer long into October.

Pretend you are pretty.

That you are wan and girlish.

That you would like boys to see you naked.

That you would like girls to see you naked too.

Pretend there are some people so lovely they don't deserve
themselves.

it is wrong that they are.

Try to pretend you are one of them.

Pretend as hard as you can.

But you cannot pretend that.

Pretend the house will be empty tonight.

Pretend that you can't wait for the freedom to be naked in
it.

And outside it.

Pretend daring.

Pretend you are lying with the small bathroom mirror
beside you.

Pretend you are lying on your stomach.

Pretend you are imagining fucking.

Though you don't know really what fucking is.

Pretend you move your hips up and down.

And your penis on the carpeting.

Seeing it when you pull up.

Hard and rosy.

Little balls.

Then down.

Pretend it excites you immensely to see yourself naked
from the side.

That it is so magical, watching your hips moving up and
swaying down.

The syncopation is perfect.

You are a wave on the living room floor.

You have more and more sexual thoughts.

Sometimes boys.

Sometimes older women.

Sometimes girls.

Sometimes you wish you weren't a good boy.

It is cruel being that.

Sometimes you wish someone would catch you on your
naked night jaunts.

When even the night is less naked than you.

Pretend you play with your nipples, when in the bath.

Pretend you wear a little robe over your  jammies when
you watch TV.

And sneak your hand into your jammy bottoms and rub a
little on your penis.

Pretend you discover it is even more fun if you make it last
for a bit longer.

Pretend you wish you had a brother and sister to help you
learn sex.

Pretend you are not scared on your night runs.

Pretend you have long hair like the Beatles.

Pretend you are pretty all over.

Pretend your skin is silk

Pretend you wish you looked like a girl except for your
penis and ball.

Pretend you are being seduced like Horatio Stubbs.

Pretend you can memorize the sexy parts, so the book
won't jerk in your hand, and the page vibrate as you
masturbate.

Pretend you didn't run away from the roustabout at the
carnival who saw you sneaking past the back of the freak
show so you could get a free glance. Pretend you had
stayed. Pretend you wanted to.

Pretend boys do this to themselves.

Pretend they like it.

Pretend you could remove the egg shell coverings of these
houses all round you and coulee see boys in their houses
doing this thing all round you.

Pretend you like to powder your butt with the powder puff
pink.

Pretend you have long hair that you can pin up and look
like a girl.

Pretend you are a girl.

Pretend you are a boy.

Pretend you have the best of everything.

Pretend you are not poor.

Pretend someone knows your name.

Pretend someone thinks of you.

Pretend the cops pick you up for  being outside, naked.

Pretend they put a coat round you.

And take you to the station and give  you chocolate milk
and a sandwich.

Pretend you are someone important.

Pretend you have the courage to buy a Playboy magazine
and masturbate to the pictures.

Pretend you have the courage to just be naked with kids in
movies and on TV.

Pretend it does not confuse the hell out of you to be so
desperately in love with the boy next door.

And try to have fantasies about him.

Sex fantasies.

And can't.

Pretend you understand why.

But don't understand it at all.

Pretend you are riding the green hills of summer atop an
azure bubble.

That nothing will ever be complicated or confusing or
scary or baffling or make you want to die.

Pretend that on this green marble you sit this morning as
the sun begins to toast the sky.

This wonderful aggie marble.

And you swinging back and forth.

Pretend you look forward to going to the muny swimming
pool today.

In the heat.

Wish the masses.

So many people, there's room only to stand in the pool and
float a little.

Pretend you know why you do not look at the boys in the
showers.

Pretend this sex thing has been going on a while before you
and your penis knew it.

Pretend you run with your little pink hard on down the
night skies into a jungle book.

Or the Land of Nod.

Like the little fairy tales your mom read to you to get you
to drift to sleep.

Pretend you like to masturbate with your cool summer bed
sheet.

Pretend you are looking forward to going to the ten cent
matinee at the Capital today.

Pretend you aren't nervous because it's a horror movie and
you love horror movies.

Pretend that makes some bit of sense.

Pretend your legs will grow tall at the elm tree in your
front yard.

Pretend it is almost breakfast time.

Pretend you understand Horatio Stubbs' wisdom about the
woman who will sleep only with young boys and never
with men.

Pretend you understand why it makes you cry to read that.

Pretend you are the ten year old boy on Aunt Marpassa's
lap, with her skirt hiked to her crotch and you naked and
hard and ashamed to be bare in front of your mother and
the painter who has been painting you on your mother's lap
before Marpassa entered.

Pretend his shame and secret delight as he shoots in the air
and runs to his room.

Pretend later on at boarding school, he comes to see
Marpassa.

And she initiates him into fucking.

Pretend you can think the word fucking and not feel you
will go straight to hell.

Pretend nothing will change.

Everything is permanent.

Mom will live forever.

You will be a child forever.

You will play with your penis.

And never let it be lonely.

Pretend you feel totally like one big penis.

Pretend you bring yourself off again.

On this summer morning.

On this beautiful golden day.

When you can pretend you are not a clown.

When you still were able to laugh and feel good.

Pretend it is already sticky and hot.

Pretend it feels good to rub your penis on the inside of
your shorts.

Pretend it feels wonderfully naughty.

Pretend.

Timothy Stillman
B. Keeper
silvershimmer@earthlink.net