My friend's father (I'll call him Mr Webster) was straight laced, or so I thought. He had his own study, furnished in period style to match the house....Mrs Webster dressed well, always in dresses or skirts, and wore hosiery often, something my eye was drawn to even at that tender age. My friend's brother was rather cute, and a little effeminate, but sadly I never got to know him as well as I'd have liked to. On the day it all began, a Saturday morning, I called over to see my friend only to be. " Or else what?" Mark asked."Or else we'll never talk about these things again, about men and women and sex."The boys shook their heads in agreement. They definitely wanted Polly to tell them about sex. They had a lot of questions they didn't have answers to.Billy looked down, guiltily, and said quietly, "Miss Polly, I'm sorry, I lied. She let me touch her breasts." Then Billy said, almost in a whisper, "She let me touch between her legs too."The boys looked, jealously, at Billy. Susie was the. More

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