wasn't exactly thrilling. We were the only Catholic kids in the citywho could neck for two hours and still stay in the state of grace.Sean had it all figured. He even drew a diagram, like thosecharts they have in butcher shops that show what parts of meatcome from which part of the cow. He had me sectioned off liketop round, filet, and brisket. Only in this case the parts weren'tstamped approved by the U.S.D.A., but by the Father, the Son,and the Holy Ghost.Anything above the neck was O.K., although there was somequestion about open-mouthed kissing. Tongue-swabbing, Seandecided, was only a venial sin, but you had to work up to it, notdive right in, tongues a-twirl. Toes to thighs, to within a half inchof you-know-where, also venial. Touching boobs on top of clothes(patting, no squeezing) was probably venial, but even moreborderline than tongues, so must be reserved for specialoccasions, like the prom or graduation. Bare finger on bare tit wasMortal Sin City. Needless to say, genitalia, male or female, wasuntouchable, the big No No.Sean was scrupulous about that. One touch of forbiddenfruit, he was sure, would turn him into a raging animal and maybeblow his chances for the priesthood all to hell.Necking with Sean was safe, if not all that exciting. He hadthat map imprinted on his brain cells, and I could just relax andlet him keep on the lookout for Sin. I even sort of liked the non-sinstuff, especially kissing the hollow of his throat, that soft lovelyspot just above where the dark hair on his chest started, andsmelling the nice, musky male scent of him. My kissing him therereally got to him, because sometimes he would squirm and moana little, and even though I was absolutely forbidden to touch himbelow the waist, I knew things were happening Down There. I hada somewhat proprietary feeling about Sean's penis, anyhow. Itwas the first one I ever saw.