In the summer of 1983, my Dad drove me two days by car to western Massachusetts so I could interview for admission to College. As a Missouri girl who believed the northeast to be our modern Mecca of enlightenment, I was surprised by the lackluster hotels and restaurants we encountered there. The prophetic dullness of New England was nothing like the sizzling energy of St. Louis with its clean inns and varied cuisine. Massachusetts was like a Hitchcock movie and the recommended motel like it might have once been owned by Norman Bates.
Tired from the long drive, Dad went to bed early. I lay awake in the bed next to his, nervous about the interview to be sure, but also restless with thoughts of summer nights back home with my friends. At age eighteen, I was just discovering my sexuality. My experiences were limited to back seat make-out sessions with boys. Cute boys. I dated several rather than "go steady." Dating meant all kinds of fun; movies, pizza parlors, cigarettes, loud music, and of course, making out.
I loved the intrigue conspiring with a boyfriend to invent a cover story and locate a venue for a sexy rendezvous. I loved "frenching" and unsnapping and unzipping and exploring with my hands the sweet responses that lay just beneath the denim folds.
There in my hotel bed, I was quietly miserable. I could not risk masturbating with my light-sleeping father in the same room. My hormones raged and one particular night of petting replayed in my mind, a "double date" ostensibly for my friend Cindy and I to meet Tony and Dave at the late movie. The actual scheme involved a frolic to the local golf course to spread blankets on a green and enjoy less fettered access to one another than what was possible in the confines of a car.
So on a warm June night under a cloudy sky, we made our way past chain link barriers to the 14th hole of the Glen Echo Golf Course. We set up our blankets on opposite sides of the green, far enough apart for privacy in the dark, close enough for some "safety in numbers" during the risky trespass.
In those salad days, multiple suitors rang my parent's phone, but Dave was my favorite. Sweet to the taste, cocky and cunning, Dave had dirty blond hair and a perennially mischievous smile. He always showed me a good time. As I lay on the blanket kissing him and anticipating the entry of his hand under the waistband of my bell bottoms, my practical side took control. I thought, "Why make this so hard? Why risk the painful pinch of Dave's hand trying to slip into the tight confines of these hip hugger Levis?"
So, with heart pounding, I sat up in the dark, slipped off my sandals, shirt and pants, and crawled back into Dave's arms. He took my act as an invitation. It was. With a bit of fumbling inexperience, Dave successfully removed my bra and panties. For the first time I was completely naked, outside with a boy.
I loved it! My nude body pressed against him, the air on my bare skin, his hands roaming freely and gently over my breasts, all the way up and down my sensitive back. Dave easily accessed the burning flesh between my legs. Growing shorter of breath, I unzipped him and relished the springing erection in his tight white jockies, feeling his masculine member hot, smooth and straining at my touch.
We thusly "made out" under the gently flapping flag of the 14th green, Dave clothed, me naked, writhing in each others arms, burying our tongues in each others mouths. It was so much easier to position my burning femininity on the sweet bulge in Dave's jeans. He was now my willing captive. I felt his hard cock pressing against me, his hips rhythmic and urgent. His arms encircled me tightly and I moved my ear close to his mouth to hear his breath when he came. Naked and exposed in his embrace, I felt the delightful pumping pressed against my hard clit and it sent me over the edge. I joined him in a deep, satisfying orgasm. My satisfaction in the moment included the approving wet spot forming in the blue fabric over his throbbing cock.
Dave's arms relaxed and released me and we languished in the warm summer air. Until then, I had not noticed the cloud cover had broken. A bright moon now illuminated the darkness that had shrouded my naked body. Upon seeing that I was now plainly in view of Dave, as well as Cindy and Tony, my instant impulse was to grab my clothes and dress.
But I did not. I lay still beside Dave. My heart pounded. The sweetest feeling of warmth and desire filled my insides as I discovered and accepted a new facet of my sexuality. I enjoyed being naked. I wanted Dave to see me naked. I wanted all three companions to see.
I sprawled on my back on the blanked my hardnipples protruding unencumbered into the warm night air. Dave sat up beside me and began to glide his hand gently over the contours of my shape. Looking past him I could easily make out Tony's face, his head turned fully in my direction. I studied his features and noted his interested expression. I judged that if I could see him so clearly, then he could easily see me. Cindy was busily buttoning up her clothes. My garments lay in an undisturbed pile on the cropped bentgrass green.
Eventually our be-at-home-by-deadline grew close. We had to leave. Rather than remaining reclined and modestly pulling my things back on, I rose and stretched and turned this way and that before reaching down for my clothing. I dressed slowly. Dave sat enraptured by my willingness to pose in the nude. I quietly burned.
