I remember one camp out in particular, a weekend at Scott Lake. The
sixth grade boys stayed up until the proverbial wee hours of the morning,
throwing logs on the campfire. We talked about sex, what little we
knew about it, and about the girls we liked. I said I liked Kim because
she was “bouncy,” a reference to her precocious development. The
other boys agreed with my appraisal and admired my way with words.
“Bouncy!” chuckled Peter Kissinger. “That’s pretty good.”
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