This is a sweet little love story about a gay-identified man and a young woman who identifies as a boy...

Her back, her narrow, fine back, reminds him of Jean- Pierre, when they were both fourteen and summered together with their families. He tells her so with a whisper into her ear. "He had hair like yours, black and feathery, and his grandmama would never let him out into the sun, so we spent hours and hours in the attic of her summer house...." He presses her against the carpet in the small space between the bed and the desk and her hat falls away. As he presses his bare skin to hers, he kneads her shoulders. The tip of his penis has pushed out of his waistband.

"We would sit in the attic and make ourselves hard. And I would always let him when he would want to come inside me." He runs his hands down that back again, holding her hips. She lets out a small gasp. "But when it would be my turn to come in to him, he would sometimes get scared." He strokes her hairless buttocks. "And I would whisper to him 'Jean-Pierre, Jean-Pierre, do not be afraid. It is only fair that you do your manly duty.'" She shivers, when she feels his naked legs against hers. "And though he would moan and whimper, he would never fight me."

A terrific shudder wracks her small body as she anticipates his entry. "Don't wait," she whispers. Her voice is low and hoarse. "Take me."