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They lay in their warm, clean beds, sleeping, dozing, or talking softly. They talk of this and that: of parents, of brothers, of sisters, of pets, of friends… of home.

Burrowing a little deeper in their blankets, soon all are asleep.

Thin, wispy clouds scuttled across the sky.

The wind blew, rustling dead and dried leaves.

All was quiet…

Day was done.

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Evansville, Wisconsin

January 14/15, 1944

Mitchell was on an extremely comfortable plateau. He felt the cool breeze that came from beneath the parted window and heard the soft, even breathing of the other three boys. Pulling the blanket over his head, he felt the warm vapor of his breath, and his comfort, both physical and mental, was complete.

The well of sleep deepened.

                                                                               ****

There was a bright form in the tunnel’s dark, vaporous distance. Mitchell moved towards it. As he came closer the figure dwindled. As he began to run the figure receded into nothingness, leaving the tunnel in total blackness.

The light! He ran to find it. Running. Running, but he remained in blackness…

Suddenly the figure was back and it was closer but still too far away and he could not see what it is, but he must see what it is and he ran to it.

The light remained stationary, yet as he came to it, it came no closer so he ran faster, faster.

Closer…

The light is her!

Waving his arms, “Wait!” Running, “Wait,” he called. “It’s me, the little kid!”

The light’s away motion suddenly stopped.

“Wait, Lou Ann, wait! It’s me, the little kid!”

Stationary now, she opened her arms to him.

Louise Ann was as he remembered, then… naked.

He could see her so clearly: her face; her long, braided hair… her breasts.

“Lou Ann,” he said, “I want to touch your titties! I want to taste your vanilla!” He reached to her, but she was just out of reach. “Lou Ann, I want to see your cunt!” He looked “there”… but there was nothing there. Nothing but a perfectly symmetrical, one-dimensional hole that he was able to see through, to the blackness behind Louise Ann. “Lou Ann, I want jack-off in your cunt, only then it’s called fuckin’.”

“But,” pointing her finger at him, “you’re just a little kid!”

Looking down, he realized he was naked, and that he had an erection. But it was not his penis; it was Salvatore Diamond’s penis.

Holding it tightly, he moved his hand down, forcing the dangle of foreskin to glide over the glans… then up again, and down again, and each time he did the head of a rabbit popped through, and it looked so funny….  And it felt so nice.

“Lou Ann!” Lifting his/Sal’s penis in his hand, “I am not a kid!” Proud of it, showing it to Louise Ann, “See? I’m not a kid ’cause I got a boner!”

It felt so nice holding his/Sal’s penis.

“Here!” Pointing it upward so Louise Ann could see it better, “See?”

                                                                               ****

Moving his hand upward, and downward.

And it felt sooo nice.

Up and down.

Holding himself through the opening of his pajamas, unaware of the movement, the sensual feeling relaxed him even further and Mitchell dropped deeper into his tunnel… deeper.

Throughout his nine and a half years he had fondled himself hundreds of times, always at night or in the morning when the need to urinate had caused an involuntary erection.

Now it was different. Now the sensation was more pronounced.

Up and down.

More urgent.

Up, down.

Normally a boy his age will not have had this need, but his conversation with Frank on Sunday had brought the picture of Salvatore Diamond and Louise Ann Richtor vividly back to mind, then, being pressured by Frank to ask Miss Stoldig the “difference” question on this day had created a high degree of nervousness, then the session with Skorupski, and his dream now had caused an erotic, sensory overload.

Harder, faster.

More friction was created along the hard, thin shaft of the nine-and-a-half-year-old boy’s penis.

Harder, faster. Up, down. Up-down.

His body jerking with the powerfully wrenching spasms, Mitchell moaned aloud from his deep place as he sensed the warmth that began in the area of his rectum, testicles and groin then spread throughout his entire body that, even in his sleep, caused him to shudder at the convulsing sensations of a child’s first orgasm…

Finished, it’s immediate end was deeply relaxing, as though having relieved himself of a very full bladder after holding off for a long time—a very long time.

His eyes opened.

Becoming aware, he stared into the darkness for a number of seconds, then, Oh, no. Appalled, No! he thought, it can’t be! I’ve made in bed! Throwing the blanket off, he rushed from the room through the deserted, dimly lit hall into the bathroom. Standing before the urinal, expecting his pajamas to be wet he looked down… but they weren’t wet, his pajamas were dry, absolutely dry!

Was I dreaming? Yeah, it had to be a dream! Or maybe I was hangin’ out and only got the bed wet. He shuddered. The bed, wet! What’ll the guy’s say when they find out I’ve pee’d in bed? Rushing back to the room, he felt the sheet and blanket.

Dry! The bed was dry!

Was I dreaming? Mitchell wondered again.

Trying to remember, he crawled back into bed, but could not sleep and soon, Now I do gotta go.

Hungry, feeling his stomach growl as he stood in front of the urinal, Mitchell tried to remember if he had any of the cache of candy left that he’d bought at the theater yesterday. Nope! His stomach growling again, he remembered that he’d finished the last box of Juju Beads after lunch and, though he had no idea of the time, he did know it was hours until reveille and breakfast.

Bending over the sink, cupping his hand he scooped an ounce of water into his mouth, then again. Straightening his body his eyes came in line with the community shelf that ran above the sinks the entire length of the bathroom wall. Stepping two sinks over, taking his can of Dr. West’s Tooth Powder off the shelf, Mitchell looked at the strip of adhesive tape marked “Lipensky, M.” in indelible black ink then, shrugging his shoulders, he removed the cap, looked at the oval opening a moment, shrugged his shoulders once again and up-ended the can directly into his mouth.

“Hmmm!” Liking the taste of peppermint on his tongue, thinking, Not too bad, standing back, he studied the shelf.

It’s a virtual candy counter.

Peppermint… Spearmint… Wintergreen… Cinnamon!

Colgate… Pepsodent… Ipana… Teel… Dr. West’s!

White… Blue… Green… Red! Paste… Powder… Liquid!

He could pour, squeeze and shake, and if he didn’t take too much of any tube, can or bottle, who’d miss it?

Starting at the window, working his way to the door, Mitchell sampled from each can, tube and bottle, and when he finished he went back to one of the three bottles of Teel and, careful not to touch it there, shook a few drops of the thick, red fluid directly onto his tongue.

Yup! Without a doubt, the cinnamony taste of Teel was his favorite.

Mitchell Lipensky’s sweet tooth satisfied, going back to bed, he promptly fell asleep.