I was young once.  

RaytownRick 62M
91 posts
4/20/2006 9:46 am

Last Read:
4/20/2006 10:50 am

I was young once.


In 1971 I transferred to a new High School. Sixteen years old, a junior, and I didn’t know a soul. It was a smaller much more rural school than the one I had left, and I had confidence that I’d find my niche quickly enough. If now I sound confident, let me assure you that I wasn’t at the time. I knew me well enough, but I was pretty insecure I realize now. I wanted to be liked, which means I cared more for others opinion of me than I would have had I been comfortable with who I then was.

So, I went to my first social event at the High Sweren’t.

I wore purple brushed denim jeans, and a loose purplish flowery striped shirt, thinking I looked cool (it was the seventies.) My belt buckle had two rows of rivet holes, through which the belt tongs pressed. If you lived in that time, it didn’t seem as weird to say as if you lived today. Back then I really thought I looked great. My hair was too long, parted in the middle, and covered my neck and ears.
chool–a football game. My dad had a 1964 Lincoln Continental, which I arranged to take with me. Dad’s theory was that when you drove a Lincoln, no one asked what year it was, so we had an old Lincoln just for the posh factor. It was a way for us to feel richer than we were–because we
Now I’d met a few of the kids at school, but not many. There were a lot of others who I knew by face, but didn’t know their names. I went to the football game to make new friends, and that meant I’d have to work on remembering names, one of my personal weaknesses. In hindsight, I magnify my insecurity, because I was looking specifically for girls’ names. I needed to be needed, and I didn’t know any girls. I was hoping to change that situation.

When I got to the school though, it was dark already. I had to park way in the front of the school, and then walk all the way around the building to the stadium. While I was trying to show off how cool I was, I hadn’t recognized when I dressed that the weather would be even cooler. That breezy purple flowered shirt didn’t help much. I was shivering when I got to the stadium. I said “hi” to the few guys I knew that were there, but . . . I didn’t want to be with them when I made a move on the girls. Those I had met were nice enough guys. We played cards early in the morning in the Library, but they were not the guys I’d have chosen to be my friends, just those that I ended up sitting next to on the bus, in the cafeteria, and in a few classes: Friends by default.

I ended up sitting in the bleachers by myself, but one at a time, these buddies came up to sit near me, which was okay. At least they blocked the wind a little. Most of them had attended this school district since they were in Kindergarten, so they knew everyone, and had I the confidence to ask anyone’s name, they’d have been forthcoming. But I was afraid if I asked about anyone, it would soon get around that I liked them, and I was sixteen and had never been kissed, so as much as I wanted to get to know a girl, I didn’t want to get branded as someone whose heart was taken either. Guys can be brutal, and it was just easier not to go there, I thought.

But at half time, some of the guys split for the concession stand where known good-looking girls were working selling potato chips or whatever. I headed to my car to see if I could find a coat or something. I was really too cold to stay, but I didn’t want to say that to anyone. I’d feel silly bringing a blanket, but that was better than freezing. It must have been September or so, because I think it was our schools first football game of the year, so it wouldn’t have been too cold really. If I had brought a jacket or something, or wore a sweater even, I’d have been okay, but I spent too much time picking out the flimsy shirt to cover it up with a coat. That’s how insecure I was.

So, I started the trek from the stadium, around the school, and to my car. The Lincoln had those doors that both open in the middle. I used to think that was just a peculiar feature of a Lincoln–sort of how you knew what kind of car it was–until I was much older and I found out that was so a valet could open both doors at once. Anyway, the back seat was where I had the best chance of finding a coat or something. I squeezed between my car and the one next to it, and opened the rear door of the Lincoln. That’s the moment my life took a funny twist.

When the rear interior light came on in the Lincoln, it shined directly into two pairs of eyes in the car next to mine. Both of these people’s faces just lit up, and they had a startled look. I recognized them both, but didn’t know either of their names. The boy, who was on top, and looking just over his car window, was a short, stocky looking kid. He looked like a wrestler. I now know that his name was Ron, but I didn’t know that then. I think he was a sophomore. The girl’s eyes were looking up from her position on the bottom of the pile, and looked directly into mine. I didn’t know her name either, but she was on my list of girls I’d like to know the name of. She was pretty enough, but . . . taken. She was always with Ron, who clearly knew a good thing when he saw it.

But now, my position was odd. I saw them. I saw what they were obviously doing in the back seat of his car. They saw that I saw them. I should have ignored it, and turned away, but somehow I thought I was playing Prince Valiant or something. I opened his car door, and looked directly at the girl flat on her back in the back seat of this guy’s car. This should have been a stupid mistake–maybe it was–but it was done, and I had witnessed myself do it, before I thought anything through. As soon as I had their door open, another light, this time from his overhead, was shining over the entire scene. They both started to move, and I needed to say something. I was still staring at the compromised girl, and so I spoke to her first. “How about you go get in my car, and I’ll drive you home to your parents.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command, and as soon as I said it, she just stared at him. Before his eyes looked down at her though, I spoke to him, “and how about you scoot along home.”

I felt like I did the right thing morally. They were probably fifteen, and didn’t need to be playing mom and dad yet. He stared straight at me, and then broke the stare and started pulling his pants up. She looked genuinely puzzled, but sat up in her seat, and buttoned her blouse. I saw him hesitate for just a second, as though he was thinking, and then I pointed to the front seat and said, “Get!” He got into the front seat, and I helped the girl into my car. I felt scared, and a little foolish, but also like a hero of sorts. I’d just done something chivalrous, and was cheering my own bravery.

I walked her around my car, and opened the passenger door for her. I’d forgotten about being cold, but was very cognizant of the fact that she might be. As she sat in the passenger seat of my car, I saw that a bra and panties were both in her hands.

He drove off, and I shut her door, and walked around the car to my door. The lights were off in my car now, until I opened my door, and sat down. You’d think I’d be feeling something strong, or noble, or powerful, but I wasn’t. Frankly I was scared, and didn’t have a clue what to do next. On the trip around the car, instead of thinking of anything like that, I was wondering if I had enough gasoline to get her home, because I didn’t have a clue who she was, where she lived, or how I’d get there, and back to the football game without running out of gas.

I sat in the car, and she was sitting there equally scared, her hands lying in front of her in her lap. I couldn’t see her underwear anymore, and the only thought I had which I can remember at this date was “how could she have put on her underwear that fast?” It wasn’t a long walk around the Lincoln!

I sat down, and automatically put the keys in the ignition. This Lincoln had a wide bench seat, and there were no seatbelt holders in between the seat cushion and the backrest as there are on modern cars. I said, “I don’t know where you live.” She looked over at me for the first time since I saw her compromised in the other guy’s car. At that moment, I started the car, and needed to back up. As I was a new driver, I began to back up precisely as we were taught in driver’s Ed. I put my right arm over the back of the seat, turned my body ninety degrees, and my head 180, so that I could see clearly anything behind me. Well, that was my intention. After my body turned, my head was headed around too, but it stopped when I saw her still staring at me. My head was looking straight at her, and I wasn’t able to back up, even though it was my intention to do so. She too, turned her body to the left, to also look behind us, but our gazes met each other. We were pretty close together, I’m guessing about ten inches apart now, and we were both leaning towards the other, only because we were both looking to see what I might back into. I cannot explain what happened then, except to say as we were looking at one another, she broke off the stare, and looked down at my mouth. At that very moment, I too was breaking the stare, to finish my turn and back out of the parking spot. I really think she took the body movement towards the rear as a movement towards her, and in that same second that I realized she was looking at my mouth not my eyes, I think she thought I moved towards her–which I, in my innocence, had not done. But, she thought so, as I suppose, and she kissed me!

I suddenly wasn’t looking backward anymore. I was puzzled, dazed, and inevitably wasn’t feeling as chivalrous as I was excited. My thoughts weren’t pure and noble, my brain just dropped three feet lower, and I was too na├»ve to know why.

It was a quick kiss, and then she pulled away. In as much as I hadn’t really known it was coming, I was perhaps too stunned to know what to do, let alone to understand why this girl would kiss me. Then she leaned towards me again, but this time, she put her left arm over my shoulder, and laid her head against my chest, and her right hand went clear around my left hip. It must seem like an awkward pose as I’m trying now to tell the story, but it just happened. She was hugging me, and I sort of hugged her back, still not understanding why. My return hug was merely a reflex action to her tightening squeeze. My right arm which had been over the seat back, now moved to complete the circle of a hug, and came upon her back, while my left hand left the steering wheel, and sort of cradled her head against my chest. The next move was hers, and it was a meltdown. She just melted into my arms, lap, and onto my legs, and relaxed. I sat there and sort of stroked her hair for a moment, and patted her back. I didn’t know why she was hugging me, but she was now in my lap, and I was a little giddy about the whole thing, but rather dazed as well. I wondered if I had completed some “hero” role or something in her mind: “handsome prince saves her from a life in the dungeon” or something. I didn’t know what was going on in her mind, and I didn’t really care, because I was now really and truly warm for the first time since I’d come to that silly football game.

With her lying in my lap, it was hard to drive, but it was the only thing I could think of doing. We drove out of the parking lot, with her still melted onto me. I didn’t know whether to turn right or left out of the parking lot, and we were in a rather rural setting, so I was a little stumped. I wanted to ask her, but she had her face sort of to my belly, and I didn’t think I could have heard an answer anyway, and . . . well, I kind of didn’t want her to move.

Okay, this is a little embarrassing: I was by this time, uhm, at full salute. I was afraid if she moved so much as an inch, or if I did, she’d notice or feel it or something. There was also some of my insecurity on display. I pulled out onto the highway, and then pulled off the road under a big tree, and just stopped the car to await a better, and safer time to resume driving. It was going to be hard to concentrate on driving with my brain rubbing against that silly belt I was wearing. I left the engine running for a few minutes, to keep the heater on.

My right hand was still on the small of her back, and I was slowly petting her there. I’d been driving with my left hand only, which would have driven the drivers Ed teacher crazy, but was the only available option given that I liked touching her backside with my right hand so much.

Lincoln’s had electric seat adjustment buttons on the left of the driver’s seat. I thought I should scoot the seat back a little until I got her off my lap, and to give both she and I a little room between where I was and the steering wheel. I moved the seat back, but it was on a little electrical motor, and it moved back slowly, but steadily until it was fully to the rear. I thought she might sit up at the movement, but she didn’t. In fact, she pulled her arm that was around my neck down from off my shoulder, and more onto my lap. She stretched out more, and snuggled up closer to me. I still didn’t know the reason that she was holding me, but the last move she made turned into a moment of extra eroticism. My right hand was now not on the small of her back, but it was on her rear. I literally gulped. As I was now petting a small but very real rear-end cleavage on a girl. She didn’t move away, so I kept petting, suddenly fixated on that tiny crack in her flesh. I traced the crack with my finger from the small of her back to deep enough in the slot that it satisfied my curiosity, and made little circles around the entire area.

It amazes me now that I didn’t understand then that girls enjoyed sex as much, if not more, than men do. I really didn’t know that then. But I was a fast learner. I was embarrassed that my equipment was probably poking her in her ear, and embarrassed that when I touched that rear cleavage, my equipment sort of squeezed involuntarily. I was worried she’d feel that, so I stopped. But when I removed my hand, she swayed her back more, as though she were a cat, raising her tail. I resumed petting, and then I felt my world change, as her hands moved to tighten my belt, or so I thought. I pulled my stomach in at her touch, and she took the tongue of my belt out of the loops, and pulled the belt tighter for a brief second, so as to eventually loosen it. My belt was suddenly undone, and now I was not merely nervous, but actually panicked. She’d know that I was erect any moment now, I thought. How embarrassing!

As my right hand stroked her rear cleavage, her hands were fondling with my jean button, and then my zipper. I didn’t know what to do, but just sit there. I’d never been with a woman in any way, and certainly never like this. She then gently reached in, and pulled out my member, for the whole world. I was shocked and embarrassed, but then she stopped once it was out, and lifted her head up to my eyes, which must have shown my terror, and then she gently put the tip of it into her mouth. That was warm. That was wonderful. Her right hand held the shaft, her left hand was now behind my back, and her mouth was going up and down ever so frustratingly slowly. She’d make a long, gentle stroke, and then moan a little, with a little kissing noise every time she pulled it all the way out of her mouth. As she did, she kept arching her back, and I kept stroking her behind. With my left hand, I sort of pulled her hair back from her face, and with my right hand, I tugged just enough at her skirt, to find out that she still wasn’t wearing any panties. I hadn’t taken an anatomy class yet, but I was learning quite a bit with that right hand. That hand soon was on bare skin, and still petting, as she’d arch that back and moan a little. I couldn’t reach all the way around to her feminine parts, but my fingers just exactly could reach her anus if she arched enough just as I leaned as fully as I dare. I didn’t know that was a sensitive spot even, except every time I touched it, she would moan, and suck just a little harder. As I said, I was a fast learner, and she was giving pretty good clues as to what she wanted.

As she would moan, something would happen to me. I’d throb. This wasn’t going to last long, and I didn’t know how to mention that I was going to go off. It scared me that it would explode in her mouth, so suddenly, as it was about to, I pulled my right hand down, and grabbed my own shaft–the only move I previously ever had that was anything near a sexual experience. Once my own hand was on the shaft, she looked up to see if something was wrong, and it was. I went all over. My hand was now wet, and I was very embarrassed. No one had ever seen that happen with me before, and I truly didn’t understand how perfectly normal it was. My hand was wet, and she stared up at me, and I didn’t know what to do. She looked down, saw what had happened, and instead of saying “oh yuck” or something, she moved closer to me. She shifted her weight a little, and then she began slowly licking off the stuff that I didn’t know she’d know about. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw her back arch again, and so since she surprisingly seemed delighted that I was sticky, I moved my right hand back to the spot it had been at previously. But now my right hand was wet, with my own fluids. This time, when I touched her backside, she pulled her skirt up until it was around her waist. My wet fingers slid around better, and I was again pretty pleased to be able to touch her there. My middle finger slid in, while my other fingers went around the edge of her exit point. After a few moments, she gave me a very useful signal. She was done licking up my contribution, and she pushed against the inside passenger door with her feet, until her breasts were now over my midsection. I didn’t understand that move at first, except that it reminded me that I hadn’t even touched her breasts, so my left hand began exploring, and then I found my right hand too could reach further. I began to push my fingers in to a now very available place. But as my right hand continued to explore, I found more than I expected. After several minutes of gentle strokes, my right hand reached all the way around her, and I learned more than I had imagined. My young mind never thought of the need of lubrication in lovemaking. I just thought the guy went in, did his job, and we were done. Silly me. She was very well lubricated, and as I had now learned, and she was eager to have me touch her.

Never had I known that girls wanted sex as much as boys did. This girl was now moving, and breathing heavy, and I was exploring slowly with both hands.

I began gently stoking, ever so slowly, the delightful little hairs on each side of her inside. I slowly leaned more to the right, caressing each side of her wet slit, all the way down until she would gasp, and rock her hips forward. Then as I leaned to the left, my hand, my fingers, and even my arm would gently slide back up until I reached the spot I had begun at. All the way down, then all the way up, rocking ever so gently, and hearing her moan more and more forcefully. She was enjoying this, something that this sixteen-year-old boy had never before contemplated. She wasn’t just allowing me, she was really liking me to do this to her. I hadn’t known.

My left hand found her right breast, my right hand had become rhythmic, and my young member again began to respond, having recuperated from its earlier release. I don’t remember her doing so, but somehow her blouse opened up, and those very soft and tender breasts were now on my more rigid member. She rose up slightly, and perhaps awkwardly, so that she could feel me gently with her chest.

Something happened suddenly, that I didn’t understand. She began clenching her buns together, then she’d jerk her back up, and allow my right hand all the way down her, then clench again, as though she was pulling away, and then thrusting hard against me again. She was breathing in gasps. It was as though she was in a convulsion of some sort. It scared my young mind. I wondered if I’d broken something, or if her brain just snapped, or something. She was going through these convulsions, and I tried to stop touching her so that she could get back in control of herself. Then she quit moaning, and started yelling, rather loudly. But I soon learned it wasn’t an apoplectic fit or something, it was just her way of saying she was satisfied. I hadn’t even known that women got satisfied. She began kissing me everywhere, on my belly, on my legs, and then again on my member. But this time, she wasn’t gentle like the first time, she sucked so hard, it hurt. She was kissing, sucking, licking, grabbing again with her hands, and otherwise just going wild all over me. It was as though her convulsions weren’t over: she was now just going at it harder, and with a new kind of energy. She slid back so that my poor drenched right hand was now just back at the smaller cavity, but as I touched her, she started saying, “uhm humm” although her mouth was full of me, it was clear she wanted me to continue. This time though, she was playing harder, and she kept pushing against my hand much harder. I decided she really wanted me to push my fingers in her backside, and as I slid them there, she bucked, as a firm signal that said “yes” which accompanied her forceful but muffled “uh huh’s” that came out each time a finger would enter her there. I got caught up in the frenzy, and pushed harder, and further in. I was actually sore, as she was pulling my member and being nearly violent with it, but I didn’t care, she seemed to want me to push into her backside with my fingers, and it was so wet there now with her juices and mine, that it was pretty easy to do. I swirled around the outside, but it was when I went to the inside that she’d moan.

It was my turn to go again, and just as I was about to, I almost moved my right hand down to stop it, but she was moaning so hard I didn’t. This time, she got my entire explosion in her throat, and she wasn’t done. But as soon as I went, she began going through those convulsions again, with my fingers in her backside.

She screamed, “ahhh, AHHH, Oh!” Those ah’s and oh’s must have lasted for three or four minutes–and it seemed like fifteen or twenty at the time. She was on all four limbs, with her head held high, and just experiencing an ecstasy I didn’t know at that point women experienced. Her backside was completely clenched: she was sitting up on her knees, and was resting with her arms fully extended and her hands just to the right of my right leg.

For the first time that evening, I saw her smooth breasts just dangling there in a very dim light. My hands were now done, and I cupped one with each hand. I’ve never felt anything so soft before or since. She giggled, and turned to look up at me just cupping her most tender parts, and said, “Now would you drive me home to my parents.”

I did.


{Epilogue: I don’t remember her name anymore, although I knew it during my High School days. We attended school together for two full years before I graduated. We never dated, and never spoke of that night again. She was dating Ron last I knew her, although there had been a serious strain in their relationship for several months. I never was given the details as to why, but I’ve often wondered. One time when I passed her in the hall during my senior year, she looked over at me, and winked. She kept going though, and so did I, though I turned my head to see if the wink meant anything more. I drove the Lincoln until my senior year, when I left for college. Ron never said a thing either–but he never beat me up, so maybe to this day, he doesn’t know what happened that night.}

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