In the 1970s I was a medical student at the University of Washington in Seattle, my hometown. Med school was a good time in my life. It was early in the woman's movement and there only were a few other female students in my classes. We were a bit exotic, at least I like to think so. I enjoyed learning. I looked forward to practicing medicine.
I associated with like-minded colleagues. None us had much money but we got by and frankly, had a good time. The only downer was the pace, pulling graveyard shifts, and being my best 24/7. The unyielding routine could grind you down; it was intended to. I welcomed breaks from it.
Often, we'd unwind at the hot springs on Mt Baker, an hour's drive north. The springs were on U.S. Forest Service land and cost nothing to use. This was back in the early days of the sexual revolution before Sexual Transmitted Diseases scared the pants onto everyone.
Interesting things happened at the springs. To see a couple making love was common enough. Interesting, but not worth much attention. Less frequently, a woman sat on the edge of a tub and had more than one man. I had done that as an undergrad, more than once. I had a reputation back in the doin' days. That I never got pregnant is a testament to God's fondness for fools.
One winter night under a full moon my boyfriend and I pulled into the Forest Service parking lot. The night was bright as day and we had driven up the mountain with our headlights off, just for the lark of it.
There were no other cars in the lot. This was a little surprising. We had thought the full moon would draw out the romantics. We figured others would show up later. My boyfriend and I were feeling kinky wanted to make love in public.
A car pulled up as we slipped into our winter coats and boots. Three black men got out and looked around disoriented. Obviously, they'd never been there before. They were dressed for an expedition to the North Pole, totally covered in heavy coats, thick wool pants, bulky boots, and heavy wool stocking caps under fur-fringed hoods. Their gloved hands were pulled up inside coat sleeves for extra warmth.
They looked like soft-shelled turtles standing erect on hind feet. Since they had jumped out of the car fully dressed for their Arctic adventure, they had probably driven up the mountain fully clothed, no doubt heater blasting hot air onto them.
One of the men walked over to us and asked politely in a clipped and formal British accent, "Where dee hot water?"
My boyfriend and I looked at each other and smiled. My boyfriend asked politely in return, "Oh, you mean the hot springs?"
"Yes, dee HOT springs," he responded through glistening white teeth.
We smiled at his accent and my boyfriend pointed out the trail up to the springs.
I joined in, "Follow us. " I added, "You'll want to bring towels."
My boyfriend and I headed up the short trail to the springs. The full moon and snow-covered mountains lit up the night in a soft, white glow. No flashlights required. We crunched through the one-inch new snow dusting the trail. The night felt fresh and primitive. It was special to share it with my boyfriend.
I heard the black men fast-stumbling up the trail after us, trying to catch up. There was absolutely no way for them to get lost on the well-marked trail. Though, the dark shadows under Douglas firs along the trailside could look dangerous to the uninitiated.
I suppose being foreign to the area they felt apprehensive about hungry wolves and grizzly bears dragging them into the woods for a late-night snack. Easy for me to make fun of them, being a native. They seemed like nice enough guys.
My boyfriend and I chose the most distant and private of the three tubs. We quickly shed our clothes, hung them on tree branches, and hurried on tippy-toes through the cold snow to the tub. The welcoming hot water instantly put us at ease, the moils of med school fell off like a bomb.
We soaked and watched the black men look around the clearing for instructions on hot tubbing. They inspected the other tubs. They looked at the dark perimeter of Douglas firs and huddled together. They looked up at the stars, orienting themselves, perhaps looking for astrological guidance. They looked at each other. In time they wandered over to our tub. My milky white breasts and blond pubic hairs bobbed through the surface.
I enjoyed showing my sex to them. They looked at me and took me in. The man who had spoken to us in the parking lot politely asked, "We join dee lady?"
My boyfriend and I wanted a little privacy for reasons that were obvious to us, but I guess not them. But the hot springs were about relaxed camaraderie and there was no need to offend strangers. I waved, "Sure. Climb on in."
We watched them peel off layers of clothes. Heavy jackets, thick wool sweaters, wool shirts, and insulated underwear. We smiled to each other, amused by their over preparedness. They stacked clothes on coats outspread on the snow. I wondered if they were going to wear bathing suits. They didn't.
I'd seen penises before. I was a med student, right? But their sexual organs surprised me. Their long shafts arched downward. I say "arched" because their shafts were thick near the top and tapered to half that girth. The thickness at the top bulged their penises outward and as the hefty shaft narrowed, its long weight arched their penises downward.
Foreskins covered their cockheads, at the tip a small round opening of turned-back skin. Under their shafts, the men carried handsome scrotal sacs, which their heavy, plum-sized testicles filled out beautifully.
As they walked to the tub their pendulous shafts swung heavily back and forth. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. The potency of these black men's penises and testicles captivated me. These men were made for breeding women — and maybe even horses, they were that well endowed.
Out-of-the-blue I wanted to have a baby. It just suddenly came over me. For the first time in my life, I thought about having a child. I stepped through a gate. On the other side, a loving home behind a white picket fence, children's happy voices, and the aroma of homemade spaghetti sauce. This unanticipated thought of having a family didn't shock me. On the contrary, it felt timely, warm, and inviting — more so, deeply essential.
With a mixture of scientific and sexual curiosity, I couldn't keep my eyes off their organs. I hoped the cover of night hid my curiosity but in the bright moonlight, I knew it didn't. Being out in the forest with only my boyfriend to protect me from these powerful and potent black men felt dangerous and exciting. I tingled between my legs.
They sat down into the water and their penises disappeared. As they leaned back onto the sides of the tub their penises broke the surface and rested on the water like venomous snakes. The upturned tips of foreskin looked threatening and ready to bite. As the men shifted about getting comfortable the snakes slithered back and forth through the water.
The snakes turned me on and frightened me too. I wanted to run away; I wanted to charm the snakes — and I wanted them to charm me. I couldn't keep my eyes off their snakes. From the men's easy manner in showing them off, I figured they'd exposed their superior size to white girls before and were comfortable with my blatant curiosity.
We chatted. They were Jamaican exchange students at Seattle Community College. Their sing-song and easy way with words was as friendly and inviting as the warm Caribbean. Their voices mesmerized me. I fell into a trance of compliance, wanting these black men to charm me, to turn up prickly heat between my legs.
I stared at the snakes. I spoke. My mouth moved. I heard my own voice in conversationn. But my attention was on black snakes resting on the water's surface. I stared at the snakes. They stared back at me.
