As soon as I read about the Summer Lovin' contest, I knew that I must write about an experience I had one magical summer. I was fresh out of college and was working for a large company with an international name. I thought it was the "cats meow" to work for a company that everyone knew. Even though, in reality, I was merely a speck of sand on the giant corporate beach.
I grew up in a religious family that centered its life on the church. We lived in a nice quiet suburb that had an early curfew and most everyone cut their yards diagonally. My experiences to prepare for the real world were thwarted by living in a "bubble of familiarity". I didn't realize it at the time, but anyhow, that doesn't matter for this story. This story is about summer
lovin'.
This is how a "good girl" discovered a different side of her life.
It was the first summer on my own. For the first time in my life I was away from the family, finished with college, and gainfully employed. I was living with my girlfriend Holly in a small apartment, in a trendy and somewhat dangerous part of town. (It was a convenient distance away from my home town).
I heard about a summer evening outdoor concert featuring the Lovin' Spoonful, one of my favorite bands from the past. Holly and I bought tickets as soon as we could, and prayed for a nice hot summer night to enjoy this concert. Neither one of us was dating very much, so we didn't have to concern ourselves with any guys.
Our prayers were answered, it was a gorgeous day, a little humid, but one of the summer nights that you dream about in the dead of winter. Holly and I entered the gates together, but were quickly separated, as is our usual routine. We almost always bump into each other on the way out of the gates.
As I said earlier, I was a shy "good girl" growing up, but I was starting to explore other sides of myself. Growing up a wallflower normally would have guided me to sit way on the outside of the baseball stadium so I could see better. I would also be able to get out of the gates fast to beat the crowd to the parking lot. (Wow! that sounds like my dad). This time however, I was drawn to the very front of madness, like a bug to a streetlight at midnight. The front is where people always stand, usually dance, guys put their girlfriends on their shoulders.
Holly and I had prepared for this by drinking a fair amount of Sangria before we left. We drank another glass in the parking lot, and I had a small wine skin with some Lambrusco. I didn't usually drink very much, but I was really enjoying the feeling that it gave me that evening.
As I mentioned, it was warm, and I was dressed comfortably. I picked out a light cotton shell, shorts, and sandals. It was the time when lots of women went braless, but I wasn't that confident yet. I was slender and had small (but perky) breasts. I envied the ladies that shed their bras, but I was self conscious of too much jiggling and of having my nipples show.
I kept moving towards the middle of the crowd. At first I felt a bit out of place. The ages of people were all over. People that grew up with the Lovin' Spoonful and many that probably have never heard of them. People were dressed both better and worse than me. I think I felt a bit like an odd duck because I didn't feel the same confidence and casual friendliness that most everyone else was showing. However, the wine was starting to help me out.
As I walked through the crowd I felt a fair amount on hands on my body. I'm not sure how much of it was accidental, but after a few "friendly assaults", I chose to ignore it. Not being bothered by all of that touching seemed to give me a little bit of confidence and freeness that I was witnessing. I was getting caught up in "familiarity" of the crowd. Everyone seemed like your friend, all smiles, lots of talking, lots of touching, and general closeness. They were singing and dancing along with the warm up band. I remember standing next to a group of people, four guys and two girls. They were all younger than me, and attractive. I would have dated any one of the guys. The girls didn't seem to "be with" any one of the guys, and were hanging on all of them. One girl in particular was pretty and was wearing a small halter top and defiantly not wearing a bra! I was trying not to look at her hard nipples, but it was like trying not to notice someone that was intensely staring at you. She caught me looking, and just gave me a girlish smile.
I'm not attracted to women, but for some reason, I kept glancing at her boobs. I wish that I had gone braless too, and would have, except for the fact of being
chicken.
I certainly had nicer boobs that her, bigger, fuller, (yes, women think this way), but alas, they were also hidden away and hers were very prominent in her tight halter top.
The Lovin' Spoonful was finally introduced. While the rest of the stadium reacted in a rather polite applause (a Lutheran reception, as my future hubby would say), the group that I was with treated them as current rock star Gods. I could feel the last bastions of conservatism flee my body and the party spirit fill my soul. I took out the wine flask took a big sip and passed it to person to my left. He took a hit and passed it back to me. I drank from it again and passed it to my right. I never saw it again. Shortly, a joint was passed to me. As a new member of the group, I gladly took my first hit, ever. I choked a bit, and passed it on. My hips and body were becoming controlled by the band. Each song was better than the last.
The girl in the halter was dancing much more pronounced than me, but I was catching up to her. The tall blond guy had his arm around her and would gradually land his hand on her boob. She would laugh, giggle, and gradually push it away. I figured her to be the first girl to show her boobs to the band, and I was dead on correct.
I was having more fun that I could remember in a long time. Half way through the set I was dancing freely, singing along, and feeling like I never wanted this to end. At one point, I did feel a bit woozy from the heat, wine and dancing. I started to fall when a strong set of hands grabbed my waist from behind. Now, I must say that usually, I would normally be pissed off if someone grabbed me from behind. However, this time the hands felt a bit welcome. First of all, he saved me from falling over. Who knows what would have happened if I fell in this crowd? Second, I had been "accidentally felt up" so many times that I was a bit past caring about it. My ass, my boobs, you name it; I had been touched there many times in the last hour or so.
I want to clarify that at that time of my life I wasn't so much of a prissy. I did grow up very conservative, but I did eventually leave that life style. In my senior year of high school I had many boys tug at my bra. I had lots of drunken groping in college, was "finger fucked" several times, went skinny dipping once, and discovered the wonderful world of masturbation. (You were wrong mom, so very very wrong).
With help from my unknown helper I became upright and stable again. I wanted to turn and say thank you to the man that helped me, but instead I kept my focus on the band. It happened again in a few minutes. This time he kept his hands on my waist, and it was fine with me. The crowd was getting wilder, and I was getting wobbly. I could tell that he was dancing too, as his moves were the same as mine.
In my old life, I would turn and introduce myself and ask him to dance in the usual way. This just seemed different. I didn't resist his hands on my waist. When I raised my hands over my head and danced in place, I felt his hands grace my bare skin. Again, this was a welcome move, and I didn't resist. It wasn't too long until his hands were full on skin, under my blouse. It was loose fitting, and I rationalized that it was perfectly normal.
