Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Things finally started looking up when I turned sixteen. I started coming into my own, attracting the attention of cute (& not so cute) girls. One day during the summer I turned sixteen, I went to the pool in Patterson Park, not an unusual activity for me in those days. I came out of the pool a shivering mess, and realized I'd forgotten my towel. I laid out on the bench to dry under the hot sun, and a young lady next to me offered her towel. After drying myself, I thanked her and gave it back. She looked right into my face and said, “You know, you have the most beautiful eyes.”
Not used to that kind of attention, I could feel my whole body blushing and replied with the only words that I could muster, “Thanks.”
She asked me my age. I replied honestly. She admitted she was twenty-four, and asked if that scared me. It didn't. This was, after all, the opportunity I'd been waiting for. I gripped the bench tight. My first Older Girl. It was all I could do to stop myself from falling to my knees and thanking God. “If I told you where I live, you wouldn't come over and hang out, would you?” she asked after some small talk.
There was something sad in this beautiful young woman, afraid that I might reject her. Of course, I said I would go because my prayers had at long last been answered. She gave me her address and a good time to stop by on the following Saturday. I told her I would be there. She said, glumly, “You're not gonna come, but that's okay.”
That whole week, I could think only about that day. It couldn't come soon enough. I was going to prove her wrong. Not only was I going to come, but I wasn't going to do it all by myself this time. That evening, I skateboarded the mile or so to where The Older Girl lived. She was outside with her family, including her son who couldn't have been more than three. After introducing me, she picked up her toddler and had me follow her into her apartment in a building a few doors down from her mother's. I waited in her kitchen as she filled the bath for her son. At this point, I didn't know what to expect. I admit, I got a little nervous.
She came out of the bathroom and said, “He'll be okay for a while. He loves playing in the tub.” That was followed by a bunch of nervous small talk until she asked me if I liked to dance. She turned on some music, and we started slow dancing. That turned into kissing & heavy petting. Suddenly she stops and explains to me that she really thought I wasn't going to show up, so she had made other plans for the evening. My heart sank like the Titanic.
She told me she had to take her son back to her mother's and start getting ready, but that I could keep her company while she got dressed. We couldn't keep our hands off each other, but she would only let me go so far, not wanting to do anything that would keep her from her evening. Finally, I escorted her down to her front door. She stopped me one last time halfway down. “Freddy, please come back again. Promise me you'll come back.”
“Of course,” I tell her, shocked at the desperation in her voice, “I'm definitely coming back! Why wouldn't I?”
"Because my titties are too tiny! I know you don't like them. You're not coming back!”
Mind you, I loved this woman's breasts. They were small—barely buds— but perfect, with large, brown nipples that pointed like prayers at the sky. I figured she must have had a hard time about them when she was younger. “You got it all wrong!” I cried, “You have great breasts. You have great everything.” And I purposely gave her beautiful little buds as much adoration as she would allow before she had to leave.
With that, she let a smile come to her lips and offered me one last kiss before I escorted to her door and we went our separate ways. Ironically, every time I returned after that, The Older Girl was never around, or couldn't make time for me. Maybe she finally felt guilty about my age, or maybe her parents didn't buy her “He's eighteen story.” For whatever reason, that door closed for me almost as soon as it opened.
That left me back at square one and unbearably horny. Which reminds me of the period of my teenage life when I was particularly grumpy all the time. Knowing what I know now, it was probably hormonal. When my mother once asked me what the hell was wrong with me, I blurted out, “I don’t now! Maybe I'm sexually frustrated!!” I don't remember her ever laughing that hard at something I said, and as you might imagine, I could be a pretty entertaining kid.
A few months after The Older Girl in the fall of 1985, during the heyday of my skateboarding years, I was hanging out with a group of skaters who rolled all over Fells Point. One night, I skated by and everybody was hanging out in front of this house on Castle Street. I stopped to see what was going on. Apparently, there was this Geek who had to be in the house once the streetlights came on who had this beautiful girlfriend that everyone thought he must be making up. They were waiting for her to come out, which considering it was nearly 9 o'clock, would be soon because he wasn't allowed company after nine.
Sure enough, at around 9:15, this gorgeous, buxom, blue-eyed, blonde mini-goddess comes out of the house. The Geek (Lordy, I have to get better with the names. I'm thinking it was Chris, maybe...) comes out on the steps and introduces her to all of us. He barely got a chance to finish when his mother calls him back into the house. Pam, as we learned her name was, lived in Laurel, near D.C., and had an aunt who lived next door to The Geek and worked at Johns Hopkins Hospital as a nurse. Pam's mother would allow her to come and spend occasional weekends with her aunt in Baltimore.
She hung out with us for a few minutes before deciding she's going in for the night. We convinced her to stay out a little longer with offers to show her the waterfront, which she hadn't been to yet—a shame considering she was only blocks away. So off we rolled down to a little waterfront parking lot off of Boston Street. Actually, I walked. I was older than the rest of the crew, and more of a gentleman—as everyone else tried impressing her with their skateboard tricks, I, like a Word Pimp-in-training should, impressed her with pointless banter. That worked better for me anyway cuz, to be honest, I sucked on the damned boards. I couldn't even do an Ollie without my board twisting about 90 degrees counterclockwise. I was sad.
But not to her. My fellow skaters kept showing off their best moves, but remember, all my best moves are made with my mouth. By the time she was ready to head home, I had found out quite a bit about her, including the fact that, like me, she was a virgin. Of course, I lied and said I wasn't. We made it back to her aunt's place where Pam invited us all up. Her aunt was on shift until two. Everyone hung out for a few minutes before they started trickling out to meet their own curfews. The oldest of the bunch, I had no curfew and offered to stick around, keep her company.
We chatted until two in the morning, talking about life, music, sex. Everything. I couldn't think about anything but kissing this young goddess, but she was only fourteen to my sixteen. Plus, as little respect as I had for The Geek that was quietly sleeping next door, I wasn't an asshole. Okay, just not THAT MUCH of an asshole.
And then her aunt walks in. She had taken a double shift, and was given some time to go home and change. She did not like seeing me there. I wasn’t The Geek, who might have been as horny as me, but likely harmless. I was very polite, explained that I was only keeping Pam company and asked her to excuse my intrusion. She kindly, yet coldly, said goodbye and had Pam walk me to the door.
As I got ready to hop on my board and roll off, Pam grabbed me and said, “¿You're coming back, aren't you?”
“¿But what about your aunt?”
“¡Forget her! She's going back to work in a minute. Just skate around for a while and come back in like fifteen minutes."
"Sure," I said reluctantly, not wanting to get her in trouble or myself arrested. Then she grabbed me and kissed me. I was stunned. I never really had much luck with the fair-haired, fair-skinned girls. I just thought I'd made a new friend. Not that I hadn’t been hoping...
“Promise me your gonna come back. ¡Promise!”
It seemed a little desperate. I was having flashbacks of The Older Girl, but I figured my luck couldn't possibly be that bad. "I promise," I told her, kissed her back and rolled down Castle Street. It wasn't but maybe ten minutes later when I saw Pam running down Chester Street—barefoot, wearing only a nightshirt. Her aunt had left, and she wanted to make sure I hadn't.
Back at her place, the mood had changed. We were no longer friends. We were lovers, virgins wanting nothing more than to shed our virginity—The Geek be damned. Pam put on a Scorpions compilation, and we started making out. The first oddity was that she didn't want to take her top off. That was a little disappointing, considering she, unlike The Older Girl, was very well endowed. She told me that lots of boys only liked her for that reason. She didn't want to think that that was the only reason I liked her. Also odd, as we were exploring each other's bodies, Pam flinched as my hand made its way to virgin territory. I asked her what was wrong, and she explained that she had been making out with The Geek, and the doofus had accidentally kneed her in the groin, hard. She followed that up with, “It's okay. I want to do this. I want to do this with you.” I think I fell in love with her at that very moment.
Needless to say, it wasn't meant to be. The Geek wasn't there, but he'd ruined it for me with his inept clumsiness. Sex was too painful for Pam, and I was too inexperienced and nervous to ease her pain. We spent the rest of the night holding each other, and I left once the sunlight crept through the windows.
Pam's parents didn't want us together, and forbade her from coming back to Baltimore. After a while, they wouldn't even let her use the phone. We couldn't communicate at all. There were a few surprise letters, including one that promised that she was going to join the Air Force, and that once she got out, she was coming to get me, and fuck the hell out of me on her bed with an American flag hanging over our heads. That was a bit scary, but a part of me wanted nothing more, however resigned I had become that it was never going to happen.
Next Time: The Stripper, My First True Love & The Thief
Friday, February 19, 2010
If you’ve read about my first time, you know that I waited until I was nineteen to lose (¡get rid of!) my virginity. As I mentioned then, it wasn't for lack of trying. I'd been trying to get laid since I watched my folks doin' it through the keyhole when I was six. Can you blame me? Whatever they were doing, it looked like fun.
I started in first grade. There was this cute little girl named Yolanda in my class who would chase me around the school. Standard stuff, but once we got around to the back where nobody was looking I would pretend to trip up so she could catch me. There we would kiss until we heard Yolanda’s mother calling for her. On some mornings we would make sure we were the last two to hang up our coats just so we could hook up in the little closet in our classroom. I’m sure our teacher must've wondered what took us so long to get our galoshes off. Okay, maybe I wasn’t really trying to get laid, yet; but I was certainly laying the groundwork.
My mother gave me my first sex book at seven. It was one of those “Where Do Babies
Come From?” deals with cartoon-like illustrations and everything. That’s where I first learned the terms "penis" (pronounced like “peanuts” without the “t”) and "vagina" (pronounced like “Virginia” without the “r” and the second “i”) That same year, my uncle gave me my first porno mag. I think it was a Penthouse. I learned more reading the dirty magazine (Yes, I did read the articles.) than the "baby" book. Granted, there were some scary moments, like the picture of a vagina with big, sharp teeth, like a bear trap. It was a little confusing, and had me wondering if sex is what I really wanted.
There wasn’t much conflict considering that all the girls my age never wanted to go that far, anyway. There was the one girl when I was eight—I wish I could remember her name—that was a few years older than me. She had two brothers who were close friends (and whose names I can’t recall, either) who invited me to my first sleepover. I was mortified when I woke up to them "messin' around" on the top bunk of their bed. They looked kinda like they were playing Leap Frog, except that the older brother wasn’t leaping anywhere. He was just stroking away behind his little brother. They told me they were just practicing and invited me to join in. They even told me I could keep my undies on. Even then, male-on-male action was way too icky for me. Granted, I didn't know back then that most people's first sexual experience is with someone of the same sex. Nevertheless, I kindly declined their invitation.
The next day, though, their sister, who I suppose was around eleven—and an Amazon compared to me—offered to teach me how to do my multiplication tables, but only if I made out with her. That was the best math lesson I ever had and gave me a leg up on the second grade competition. She wouldn't go all-the-way, but she went far enough for my eight-year-old ego.
closed-mouth kissing and dry humping. My little brother's father's older daughter from a previous relationship (my step-half sister, I guess), my best friend Francisco's older sister the day before they moved to Tampa and I never saw either again, the Rolek sisters in one of their closets while their dad was at work and a 45 of the Police's Don’t Stand so Close to Me played over & over on their record player.
The most painful moment, to that point, was with this cute girl Tasha who I'd had the biggest crush on when I first moved to Maryland from Jersey. During my year there, she rarely ever gave me the time of day. Finally, the day that I'm moving to Baltimore City from the county, she invited me into her place and laid my first e
ver French kiss on me. Talk about shock & awe. My mother had to drag me, kicking & screaming, to the city.
But before leaving the good ol' former redneck haven that was Middle River, Maryland I should mention the one time I did almost get laid there. I was thirteen, and I hung out with a bunch of underachieving teenage drunks. As a matter of fact, I was an underachieving teenage drunk at the time, myself. Anyway, word got around that there's this girl who wants to have a gangbang with the lot of us. We gathered together and headed down to Middlesex Shopping Center where we were suppose to meet her.
I was thinking, Wow! Its finally gonna happen on the trip over. Once there, I realized she wasn’t the most attractive girl in our circle of friends, but it was no time to get picky. ¿Beggars cant be choosers, right? Well this girl looks right at me and says, "Not the one with the glasses." When my friends came back, they told me they didn't go through with it, that they didn't like the way she smelled, that they just let her blow them. I knew the truth, they were just trying to make me feel better about being rejected so viciously.
I had been living in Baltimore for six months when I met Bobbi Jo during summer break on the playground in Patterson Park. With her masculine features and her mullet, she was a little butch for me, even back then. But I wasn't getting any other play, so I figured why not. ¡I even had a good shot at nailing her! We were walking home across the park when we stopped at this big bush. "Let's go in there," she said as she ducks down and goes through this little opening, "It's really cool, like a cave."
I followed her in, and she already had her shorts at her ankles flashing her own big bush. Maybe I was too shocked. Maybe I was too taken aback by her forwardness. For whatever reason, I turned down my first real chance at early teen nookie with some lame-brained excuse of being late getting home.
The next day, I headed back down to the park, knowing I'm not backing out this time. She wasn't there. Her cousin Tammy was. Tammy was cuter by far, more feminine, with the most adorable chin dimple. I'm a sucker for chin dimples. Anyway, it was obvious I liked Tammy, and considering the extended French kissing session we shared, she liked me too. We made a pact that I would break the news to her cousin gently, and Tammy would reward me with the long sought after Home Run.
In my zeal, I told Jimmy, my best friend at the time, with the promise he would keep it a secret until I could tell Bobbi Jo myself. The next day, I got to the playground and Bobbi Jo's already there. “Listen,” I started, “I have something to tell you—”
“I know, you’re breaking up with me to go with my cousin Tammy,” she interrupted. Jimmy had told her. If you want to know how I dealt with Jimmy, read my essay, A Little Puerto Rican. Anyway, the next time I saw Tammy, she had cooled off on me and decided to dump me. I cried, not because she dumped me, but because I had ruined my chances of getting any from Bobbi Jo, and Tammy had dumped me before I'd had the chance to get any from her.
Things picked up in high school. I was fifteen when I started hanging out at this girl Chrissie's house. She was pretty big in junior high, but in high school, she had trimmed down rather nicely. She had a boyfriend, but she introduced me to Peggy. I forget her last name, but it kinda sounded like Puddles, and I like that, so I'll just call her Peggy Puddles. I'm a sucker for alliteration.
Anyhow, we would all hang out in Chrissie's bedroom—her with her boyfriend on her bed and me with Peggy on the extra bed—with the lights out. The rules were simple. Anything goes, except actual sex. Actual sex would, apparently, get you in trouble, but everything else was fair game. This, my friends, is where I mastered my cunnilingual techniques. I mean soft, quick tongue strokes, slow. hard ones, spelling my name on her clit in cursive, switching to print... You get the picture. I was hooked after my first lick.
This went on for weeks, until Peggy dumped me. Why? Because I would never go all the way. Apparently, I didn't get the wink wink, nudge nudge that came with the no sex rule, and she dropped me for someone who would, indeed, give her what she wanted more than a tireless tongue and frisky fingers. Ironically, the dude she dumped me for ended up jerking off onto Peggy & Chrissie from the 2nd floor landing as they slept in the living room one night.
As I'm writing the rest of these stories, I'm realizing that this is probably the subject of at least a couple of blog entries. Being as this little episode so nicely sums up my early attempts at getting some, this is as good a place to stop as any. But this ain't over yet. God has yet more roadblocks to place on my quest for the Holiest of Grails, and the closer I get, the more intentional it seems. Stay tuned for my next installment.