Ever hear the old saying the "...... a pile of rocks if a Snake was hiding in it..?"
Well, think 19 years old, best described as somewhat of a nerd, and just one sexual experience. That was me way back then.
OK, two sexual experiences if you count Paula Jacobs, way back when she showed me her nipple on the bus.
"Here ya go, is this what you wanna see?" She said loudly, turning and getting up on her knees in her seat, yanking her top up on one side for maybe one second.
I guess I had been leaning way forward peering over her shoulder, staring way too much since Paula didn't have a bra on. From that angle I could see down her top to...almost!
But what she did was totally unexpected. Of course half of the other kids on the bus saw that too and I got teased without mercy for a week.
The sexual experience part of that incident came at home in the bathroom, where I proceeded to make myself sore thinking about seeing her whole tit.
The other one was a date with Brenda Brown, that's kind of hard to say without stuttering, isn't it?
Brenda had sort of a reputation, I had heard that if you took her to a movie and out for something to drink later she would reward her date.
Without fail the guys I knew that had taken her out would snicker when I asked what the reward was.
So. I took her out to a movie, then something to drink, soda pop of course.
I had been worried a little bit when I drove over to Brenda's house because I had scored a date two weeks before with Sally Johnson, then when she saw my car she refused to get in it.
"You expect me to ride in THAT?" Sally told me with disdain. Then she turned and went back into their house and shut the door.
Embarrassed the hell out of me, that did.
Shit, what was wrong with my car? I liked it, sure, it needed paint but I thought it was neat with those big wide whitewalls. Some dents, sure, the paint was faded and there were some rusty spots but it was cool.
Brenda didn't care so that was fine.
later, in the car we parked. I was planning on some necking, perhaps cop a feel? I reached out and felt her right tit and got my bell rung.
Hell, that woman had a right hook that would put Billy Meiers to shame and I had boxed with Billy Meiers.
Well, I got knocked down by Billy Meiers mostly.
"You guys, one track minds, every single one of you! The least you could do is kiss me or something first." Then she laughed when I told her I was sorry.
I started the car and drove her home. On the way I rubbed the left side of my forehead, hell, I was going to have a lump there.
"Oh, what the hell, Danny. You aren't that bad, let me give you a hand." She said the minute we pulled up in her driveway.
Which she did, and I don't care how much rubbing a person does to a black painted dashboard, that stuff leaves marks that just will not come out.
Well, after sitting in the Sun for two days, anyway.
I didn't care. I had plans to cover the dash with some fuzzy material anyway.
So that was my first and only sexual experience, right up to when I met Pat and his wife Kelly.
I was trying to push my car back into our garage, it was slightly uphill and the fucking thing was a Nash Rambler, well, a Hudson Rambler American actually since she was a 1958, heavy as hell.
My entire family loved those cars, Grandpa bought a 1952 blue Nash wagon, he bragged about it so much my Dad went out and bought himself a new 4 door cross country wagon, Orange, the 1955 model.
He kept that car the entire time I was growing up, I loved riding in the back seat.
A couple of decades later, when I spotted the 1958 Blue Rambler American sitting at the very back corner of the local Chevy dealership, I just had to have it.
"Ninety nine bucks!" The salesman grinned.
"For that? It's all rusty and the tire is flat. I will go forty." My Dad taught me to negotiate, so I was negotiating.
"Fifty bucks then and she is all yours!" The salesman said. I happened to have that much, so I bought her. She actually started on her own that time, and they put enough air in the left front tire to get me home.
We had one of those electric powered air pumps and I just carried a hand pump in the trunk until I could afford a tire. It took two whole days before it got too soft to drive and I would just get out and pump it right back up.
Now the battery was dead, of course it was always dead. I cleaned the gobs of yellow looking fuzz off the connections but that didn't help. I even put some Aspirin in all the cells like my Grandpa suggested, nothing.
That was no problem though because once I get her running it charged back up and always restarted until I let it sit for too long.
I had tried to roll the Rambler backwards down the driveway, pop the clutch and get it running but sure enough, old Henry Watson decided to come home at that exact moment in his Studebaker.
So I had to slam on the brakes, there I sat, dead battery.
We had a charger, the cord was six feet long and I was 25 feet away with no extension cord.
Usually I did that first to get her running but I was in a hurry.
That was when Pat and Kelly came by, he stopped, hopped out and helped me push. Back in the garage, I set the hand brake and hooked up the charger, turned to thank him.
"No problem, I'm Pat." He stuck out his hand.
He seemed interested in me, beats me why. He kept asking questions, finally he asked me why I drove the old beat up Rambler.
"Fifty bucks." I told him and he broke up laughing like that was the funniest thing he ever heard.
"It's a collector item!" I protested.
That was about the same reaction I always got down at the drive in, which pissed me off. The jerks didn't know real class when they saw it.
He laughed so hard he was wiping his eyes.
"Hey, we are having a party Saturday, come on by, have a beer." Pat said as he was leaving.
"I'm only nineteen." I told him. Too young to drink in my State.
"I don't give a shit, come on by and have one anyway." He grinned.
So I did. I suppose I could go on and on about how the party was crawling with hot females but it wasn't. There was Pat and Kelly, another couple a bit older and kind of plump, and me.
Talk about being the fifth wheel. Still, three beers down and I was having fun, if my folks had caught me drinking beer there would be hell to pay.
My Mom and Dad never drank anything at all and warned me over and over about the sin of doing that.
Then I found out about beer down at the church parking lot one Sunday, Billy Meiers showed up with some stubby brown bottles he called "Oly" which he swiped somewhere.
I liked Billy just fine except for when he was hitting me when we boxed.
So after looking around carefully, I drank some of that Oly, it was warm and tasted awful but we knew we weren't supposed to be drinking it so we told each other how good it was.
Then I waited for God to come down and smite me but he never did.
+++
I know it sounds funny but Pat began coming by after we met that day, all we ever did was shoot the shit. He was maybe 26-27, I never did know why but he took a shine to me.
What he did was gripe about his wife Kelly a lot, he didn't like the clothes she wore, he didn't like her being a prude. I about fell over when he told me she was 38, no way in hell did she look that old.
Man, 38 years old? That was really getting on in years, so him being married to her was strange. Still, she didn't look all wrinkled up like most older women, even her hair had no gray in it, not one bit.
"You know how it is when women get older, they lose interest in getting laid. Hell, I am lucky to get a piece once a month." He complained.
I didn't know, really, like I said, what I knew was what Brenda Brown had done. I liked that so I tried for a repeat but she was going out with a skinny kid named Herman Miller whose Dad Simon owned the garbage company by then.
I had no idea what Brenda could ever see in Herman and it sort of hurt my feelings. I mentioned that to my now best buddy Pat and he just laughed.
"Simon and Sons? Hell, they own the transfer station, garbage trucks, they have piles of money!" He snorted.
OK. I got that. It did pop into my head that I hoped Brenda made the skinny runt spray down the dash on that red sports car the little turd drove.
OK, so I was pissed off about not getting to date Brenda some more and pouting.
+++
I was barely 21 when Pat came over one day, wanted me to go with him. He said he had a surprise for me for my birthday. By then we knew a lot about each other, we went fishing together, drank beer together, sometimes drove around in his Jeep looking at women.
Anyway, I wanted a drink of water so I told him I would be right back and went inside.
I could see what he meant about Kelly by then, I probably saw her a couple of hundred times and I never saw her neck, not once. Legs either, her dresses came to the floor or she had on heavy blue jeans.
But she was always nice to me, so I was nice and polite right back.
Anyway, I went inside, by then I had the run of their house and just wanted some water.
Kelly was standing looking at herself in the mirror. She had on a turtle neck sweater, blue jeans. She turned and looked at me when I came in.
"Tell me the truth, Danny? Do I look fat to you?" She actually turned her back so her blue jeans covered behind pointed my way.
"I..uhh..no! Not one bit, whatever gave you that idea?" I knew Pat tended to be short with her, I didn't know why really and it was none of my business.
"Oh, Pat was telling me my..my rear end was getting lumpy." Kelly blinked a couple of times, I could see she was right on the edge of bawling.
The truth was she looked real slender to me but it really was hard to tell the way she always dressed.
"I can't really tell because...I mean, with those..uhh? I mean, you really do look great!" I managed to get out.
Kelly looked right at me, then she smiled.
"You look pretty good yourself, you have really filled out." She told me, which made me blush.
I guess I was, by now I weighed 165 pounds, way better than the 137 pounds I weighed when I got out of school. Plus I let my hair grow out which my Dad griped about every time he saw me, but it was the style. The crew cut I wore before made my ears look big, they did stick out some I knew.
Back outside, we got into Pat's Jeep and drove down to a local tavern. I had never been inside of one, although I heard some stories about this particular place that I didn't believe.
I about fell over when I saw that up on the stage was some woman without a single stitch on!
OK, that was fun. Pat took me there as his present for my 21st birthday, he said he was going to get me "broken in."
By that I had no clue, but I sure did find out!
There was a back room, we ended up in there and one of the dancers came in.
How that place stayed open is beyond me, the woman had my pants open and did things with her mouth that I didn't even know people did. It reminded me of that time with Brenda Brown but she just used her hands.
As the woman danced and wiggled around, she opened her legs right in front of me and let me look. There wasn't any hair or anything on it. When she reached down and undid my pants, I looked around quickly but it was just us in there and a little bit dark.
