I was eight years old, in second grade at Hansche Elementary School in Racine, Wisconsin, and I wanted to tie up a boy.
Guys were being tied up all the time in the mass culture of the 1960s: on Batman, The Green Hornet, The Wild Wild West, in Tarzan and Bomba the Jungle Boy movies, in comic books. It was a standard means of putting the hero in peril.
But I didn't want to put anyone in peril. I wanted to tie a boy up so he could strain against the ropes, so his muscles would stand out, and I could see and feel him as much as I wanted.
Maybe we would even kiss.
I didn't know the name of the boy I wanted to tie up: I only saw him in the schoolyard at recess. We were probably the same age, but he was bigger than me, with hard shoulders and biceps. He had a strikingly handsome face, heavy eyebrows, high cheekbones, and black hair, long and unruly in the 1960s style.
He didn't play with the other kids. He sat by himself.
He never smiled.
I wasn't sure, but I might have seen him at the beach, too. Lake Michigan was only a couple of blocks from our house, so we were there almost every warm day, and once last summer I saw a very cute buffed boy splashing around in the cold water with his parents.
He wasn't smiling then, either.
That's why he was so attractive: he was dark, brooding, a lost soul.
I knew exactly how I wanted to tie him up: on a chair, with his shirt off, his hands tied behind his back, and his legs tied to the chair posts. That way, I would be able to kiss and touch his chest and biceps, his belly, maybe even his private area, and feel his "shame."
Mom said we should never touch our own "shame," except to wash and go to the bathroom, so it would be especially intimate to touch another boy's.
As I devised the plan, problems arose.
1. It couldn't happen in the house: Mom and Dad would be there. This was too intimate for them to know about. Finally I decided on a park a couple of blocks from Hansche School, where there were some benches amid the trees. I could tie the boy to one of the benches.
2. I didn't have any rope, at least not the nice, thick kind they used in the movies. I hoped kite string would work.
3. I didn't know how to tie knots, except on my shoe. So I would have to use those bow knots.
4. How could I get the boy to agree to be tied up?
When you're seven years old, you can make friends easily: you just
walk up to the guy and start talking.
It took me a couple of weeks to screw up my courage, but one day in the spring, I walked up to him at recess and asked "Do you want to play after school?"
The full post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.