I couldn’t get enough of him, his body and his penis, but nothing we ever did repeated the feeling of that first time beside the river.One day lying...next to me on the bed in the caravan watching the television, he grabbed my hand and guided it under the waistband of his small red shorts down onto his hard cock. I felt a wetness coming from his foreskin, not from piss but a slippery stickiness like spit or something. I got on my knees at the end of the bed and pulled his shorts down to see this. I knew Betsy’d be off in the woods someplace, making pets of them wild critters like she does, so that’s where I went lookin’ fer her. I done looked all over them woods but I couldn’t find Betsy-Jo no place, so I went back a different way, past the old swimmin’ hole, where Betsy-Jo and me used to go skinny dippin’. We hadn’t done no skinny dippin’ fer a long while, but when I got closer I could hear Betsy-Jo a-splashin’ around in the swimmin’ hole, and talkin’ to them wild critters like they. More

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