Part One
There very well may be something to the shameful theory that I?m drawn to unavailable women. Perhaps in order to understand my future, I need to recognize my past. And it all started in the lazy summer of 1985 in small town Oregon. A young relaxer found hisself coming to the end of his 15th year. Drivers licenses, dates, drive-ins, drunk-driving, road head ? all awaited just a few months away, hopefully.
Anticipation was strong, because I heretofore had never had any action or interaction with a female. Oh sure there?d been 4 Square at recess and PE Class atrocities and the strange feelings I?d get in my grundle on Pool Day. But in terms of physical interaction, nothing. So you can imagine, I felt I had a lot to look forward to, despite abject terror over making it happen.
Living next door was a family of three, husband, wife and 12 year old son. The wife, called L, was 35 years old, but was the ?fun? stay-at-home mom who was always out being crazy with the kids. She and my mother at one point were good friends, but I remember my mother once commenting, ?I feel like I?m getting older while L just gets younger.? L was funny, lenient, whacky, and there were times when I thought, "I think she might be attractive but it?s hard to tell because she is old." But she was the one instigating the water-hose fights, who played referee when we played hoops, who corralled all of us back into her house for cookies and lemonade.
Reaching the age of 16 really is a divide between being an older kid and a young adult, so this fateful summer found me reaching the end of one phase as I approached the next. Even if nothing dramatic had happened, this still would have been the last summer of playing with neighborhood kids in the yard.
For the longest time, L always seemed to favor me. I was a little older than her son, which meant he idolized me, and she used to make a point of telling me this frequently. One particularly telling afternoon, I was standing in her living room with her and a group of kids. She bent over to pick something up, allowing her shirt to fall lasciviously forward as well, giving me a bullseye view of her bra-less bosom. It was like a burst of gold bullion painted my eyes in glorious wonder for a few sexy seconds, but I will never forgot the cold steel that then shot through my heart when she suddenly looked up, right into my eyes, and smiled. She?d busted me checking out her boobs, and she was pleased to know it.
On the other side of our block was a Shell gas station, which is where I won my first job. This gas station was run by morons who priced their gas about 10 cents per gallon more than the station directly across the street. As a result, an eight hour shift might have a total of eight customers. Which meant I had a lot of downtime on this job, which I spent mostly on the phone calling people and chatting about jack shit. Because L?s was the ?fun house? I?d occasional prank call them or just call to talk to her son or even to talk to her. It then increased to where I?d spend an hour or so on the phone with her, just babbling about nothing. Until one day.
It was a conversation no different than most, except at the end, she said in an odd voice, I have a question for you. I sensed a shift in the universe?s axis, but I had no real idea what she was getting at. In fact, I had the notion that she was going to ask if I wanted a job at her husband?s business, which he was off attending to all day and often well into the night. Lacking any other ideas on what it might be, and wanting very much a higher paying job, I pressed her to reveal her inquiry. Thus followed an annoying-even-then game of tell me/I don?t want to/tell me/I don't want to. Finally I blurted out, L What Do You Want?
And I?ll never forget the small voice over the other end that replied ?You?.
Now, being 15, I wasn?t 100% certain what that entailed exactly and entirely, but I had a notion that it involved sex. I also had a very primitive idea of what sex involved. An interesting side-fact to all this is that I did not masturbate successfully until I was 20. Snort all you want and call me a liar, I don?t care. You are required to believe what I say in these stories, because it is true, and I just never was able to pull it off, so to speak. In later years before reaching 20, I was perfectly able to receive and enjoy hand and oral jobs from girls, but I couldn?t give myself a round of applause to save my life.
So in my heart of hearts, I wasn?t entirely certain that when you had sex with a woman, you didn?t just put it in and then go pee. I mean, it seemed logical. I wasn?t yet aware that anything else came out of there, so why wouldn?t it be pee or some close iteration of it?
Anyway, the phone line went quiet, she awaited a response that combined confidence with passion, and I took a deep seductive breath and said, ?I have to go? and hung up.
(part two coming tomorrow)
