Tuesday, November 22, 2016


From "First Love," posted a couple of days ago, to today's "first touch". The author of this memory, Jorg Dubin, is an established artist based in Laguna Beach, who works with both paint and sculpture. As you'll see from the image below, he loves to work with the human figure these days, and is fascinated by the erotic. No surprise! His story describes the real physical excitement of the first discovery and the first tentative exploration of the body of a fellow human being. 

It's a great rite of passage. I'm still awaiting the next step in this progression: the first infatuation, the first touch... I'd love to have a memory of the first fully consummated sexual experience. Anyone out there? Or do I have to do it myself?

Jorg Dubin, "Pearl Earring," 2004, oil on linen, 48" x 36"

THE TIPPING POINT                                                                                                                             

When does that moment happen in life when girls go from being objects of ire and grossness to that of obsessive adolescent desire? I suppose it is different for every young boy. For me, the trigger was early in my young life and has informed my sensibilities ever since.

It started with me going down to the local five and dime and hiding a Playboy inside a Mad Magazine so as to disguise the naked lovelies from the clerk who watched my nine-year-old eyes grow wide with nervous anticipation. Oh, that feeling never leaves! Primordial human desire for the opposite sex and, for some, the same sex. No matter. The feelings are the same!

I knew that before long I would have to encounter something beyond the pages of a Playboy magazine. But how, and who, and what to do? No clue! How does one know such things at nine years of age?

Somehow, at some point, it happened! I am clueless even as to her name a half century later. We were young and curious in those first moments of discovery. What would it feel like to kiss with passion? To touch a girl in places I had only heard about from older boys? And yet there I was, with a willing partner (to a point), and hungry to find out.

Kissing her lips, touching tongues and fondling through her clothes... Jesus, I wanted more! My fingers’ first encounter with a bra! First on top of it! There they were! The young female breasts I had seen only in magazines, and now my boyish hands were around the real thing, the undergarment alone obstructing me from touching her soft, budding flesh. What now? More, please! I must feel her for real. But how? Hooks, straps, elastic!!! Why are these things in my way! How do I deal with them? If there were a God, he or she would certainly guide me through divine intervention!

Through sheer force of will and nature, my hand was finally able to caress her small but ample breasts. I couldn’t get enough! All my earthly desires now rushed at me like an unstoppable train. And what more is there to explore? My hands begin to move downwards towards the unknown. This is what I have been waiting for, longing for. Like nutrition for body and soul! Life, right there in my hands…

A knock on my bedroom door and, like that, my prepubescent party ended without conclusion, other than leaving me with an unfulfilled hunger. But the next day, riding bikes with my friends, the bragging rights were off the hook! I had been “there,” or close to there. I was no longer a boy. I had touched life and could not wait for my next encounter. I knew that it would happen sooner or later, but it would be several more years before the “big one”.

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