Delilah – more from “…flirting with girls”

Here’s the next excerpt from Sometimes I think I’m flirting with girls:

This one was about Delilah and would have been a bit of a retrospective. She was from my grade school/middle school years. I think she had a significant influence over the development of my sexuality. I don’t mean my sexual orientation, but my sexuality. (More on this idea later.) Here it is as originally written:

Delilah. There’s so much to tell about Delilah and I. For two years she was absolutely everything to me. She was my best friend and we had a good friendship. We shared everything and talked about anything and did lots of things together. Everyone knew we were best friends. We were constantly joking about sexual things together. Most of the time she was joking with me and I joked that it was turning me on. Often times I talked to her about it but she either didn’t understand or ignored it. I never knew. We had serious touching like hugs in the morning and hair touching and I often rubbed her back. These things were nice and made me feel good. But it was the sexual jokes that excited me. I looked forward to them and they happened all the time. Sometimes they were verbal or expressions. Sometimes they were touching. Most of the time they were made obviously a joke and other times they weren’t acknowledged. In art class I remember almost every time we were cleaning up I made sure I went to the sink before her. She would then come up from behind (a very weak side of me) and put an arm on either side and stand against me to wash her hands. Sometimes she’d even blow in my ear or make fake moaning sounds. My reaction, like my usual reaction to her joking, was an embarrassment for her behaviours and a squirming or I’d say, “Oh Delilah, will you stop it!” But I waited for these times. I loved it.

One time she made an entire sandwich with me pressed against the counter like that. At the same time I thought the sandwich would never be done, I didn’t want it to. We used to wrestle a lot too. She always won. I don’t know if I could have beat her because I never really tried. After a small struggle she would have me down on my back and she would sit on me and hold my hands above my head. This was winning. She’d hold me there for a long time while I was supposedly trying to escape. This was a major turn on for me.

One time she hand-cuffed me to my bed. I couldn’t believe it! She just tickled me to death. Often times when we were sitting in silence she would throw herself back and say, “Take me, I’m yours. Do what you want to me.” I always felt a lot when she said this but never said anything unless I was joking back.

Joking one time we decided to make a contract up about that. I wrote it neatly with a calligraphy pen. It said, “I hereby promise to allow <my name inserted here> to do anything she wants to me.” Then she signed it and it has been a reference for joking ever since and I used to read it over and over.

There is a section here that I will re-tell in greater detail later.

Three specific times I almost lost control of myself. Once I was playing a card game with her and her mother and she was sticking her bare foot up and down my pant-leg. Another time she pulled me off the floor and held our waists together and ran her hands up and down my thighs a few times. Another time I really lost it was in a movie theater. We were with a huge group of friends and the movie the others wanted to see was horribly boring. Well, Delilah started blowing in my ear and touching my neck and asking if it was turning me on. I kept trying to get away from her by leaning way over to the other side and ignoring her but then she’d just lean over too and get louder. That was really embarrassing because the people around us were noticing. I’d whisper that to her and she’d just laugh. She didn’t care. She’d just pull me back over to her side and continue teasing me.

As I read this now and write it down here I can’t help but wonder how I continued to take full responsibility for the “real” sexual energy between us! Clearly she was a participant. Well, not only a participant – but really the instigator! Because she was so “boy-crazy” I guess I continued to blame myself.

Sigh. Those sure were good times though…