“Do you want to see Jesus?” Peter asked, while perched a few rungs above me on the climbing frame.
By his smirk, I could tell that he hadn’t had a religious conversion. I suspected he was teasing me because I’d recently become obsessed with Jesus Christ Superstar. Peter only liked electronic music.
His younger cousin Mark burst out laughing, “Yes, you’ve got to show him Jesus.”
“OK, ” I said cautiously, fully expecting a joke at my expense.
Leaning back on the climbing frame Peter proceeded to lower his trousers and underpants and expose himself to us.
I was shocked but intrigued. Although just a few months older than me, he had changed. The last time I had seen his genitalia was in Mr R’s study, when Mr R was attempting to masterbate the both of us. That had been two years ago, Peter had since gone through puberty. I got the joke immediately and saw the resemblance. Though in the iconography, Jesus was never a ginger.
I laughed, despite my discomfort at Mark’s presence. Did this mean Mark knew about what had happened with Mr R? But I also was concerned that Peter might have been playing sex games with Mark. I felt that Mark’s innocence needed protecting. But I cannot deny that I was very interested.
“Let’s see yours then,” Peter asked
I can’t remember what excuse I made, but I refused. It wasn’t just Mark being there or my shyness, I was yet to go through puberty and compared to Peter I still felt like a very little boy.
Over the next few months I was to become increasingly familiar with the sight of Peter’s penis. And he was also getting more persistent in his insistence on seeing mine. Sometimes he groped me through my trousers and sometimes wrestled with me to pull my pants down. I remember yelling at him and then running home from the park, fighting back the tears but furious.
Peter was my only friend then. At my new school I was universally unpopular. I needed Peter.
Things were to change when I took Andrew, the eight year old son of my parents best friends, to the park. Peter was there and wanted to play Bottoms. Now to be completely honest I cannot remember exactly what happened. I seem to remember that Andrew was quite willing to play. I think he got as far as flashing his bum. All I remember is that somehow I managed to stop Peter from going all the way by promising that I would, when next alone with him, do whatever he wanted. In my mythology I sacrificed myself to protect Andrew. Though it is just as possible I was afraid that Andrew would tell his parents and that I, by just being there, would be in trouble.
Peter held me to this promise and we were soon to be involved in a long term sexual relationship. It was a cold affair. We were no longer friends. Before the sex we had done so much together, improvising comedy radio plays, obsessing over the TV schedule – normal kids stuff. Now it was just sex, a continual pushing at our boundaries. There was no affection or warmth, I was just an object, a sex toy. Peter often wished that I was a woman.
The sex stopped when I was nineteen and came out to my family after having an affair with a school friend. Peter was horrified, especially when I suggested that he was also gay. It would be 3 years before he would call me up again wanting an action replay. He then admitted what I already knew, that he was gay too.
May I respectfully ask the reader not to pass judgement on Peter or I. There is only one villain in this story, Mr R. the school teacher who sexualised us both as ten year olds.


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