I try to keep safe in pursuit of pleasure and I try not to hurt anyone. But in this adventure I may have hurt someone, a friend. You have to understand, I can't resist.
My intent was to help start a relationship for my buddy Debbie. We spied a fellow hanging around at the Southland mall who we called the Winston man. He is older than we but not by much. He reminded us of the fellow in the commercials for Winston cigarettes. Tall, built and fashionably western with a full dark beard like Al Pacino in Serpico but trimmed neater. This Winston man didn't smoke. We chatted him up and sat with him in the food court. He told us where he lived and told us to come over anytime to party or just hang out.
Debbie is smitten. She wants to hook this guy; however he seems to show little interest in us. I didn't quite get it. She is cute, tanned white, shapely, long straight brown hair and really smart. She is headed for Mount Holyoke in the fall to major in global business and minor in Japanese. While I, darker of skinned and also very pretty, am destined for Chabot Community College (called a "junior" college at the time) for accounting.
So, I created a mission for myself to rouse this fellow to the opportunity before him. I head, one late warm Saturday afternoon, unannounced to the address he gave. I have the purest of intentions. I ware a flowing faded tie-dye, short, Indian cotton gauze skirt and charmeuse button-down blouse, tails out, but as I do, I wear nothing underneath. It is pretty daring I think, even in that decade. I love the feeling; I am exposed, kind of. I am getting away with something and living on the edge. I have a secret and am being naughty. As people walk past I'm thinking "you don't know!" Now and again a breeze might float the skirt but that is just more of the thrill. In fact it could be a little stimulating which has its own consequences.
I tell you this because this is just the way I am. It is also superfluous since I'm driving not walking to the Winston man's over-garage pad.
As an aside about my attire, back in high school, I was part of a cadre of girls who knew that grades could be influenced by piquing the "interest" of the male instructors. I improved more than one quiz grade by arguing a point with a loose blouse.
Anyway here I am at the Winston man's front door, commando, wondering if I am doing the right thing. He answers, is pleasantly surprised, and ushers me in.
We sit on his couch and I start to speak.
"You know Debbie has the hots for you."
He just leans into me and starts to kiss me hard and grabs my breast and squeezes. I am astonished and push back. He is rather aggressive, even for me.
"Hold on cowboy, I'm here on account of Debbie..."
"I don't want Debbie, I want you." Then he adds, rather arrogantly, "I can make you come!"
This seems ironic somehow. It wasn't that long ago that I had actually learned what to "come" was, and that I could actually achieve it. Really! I knew about and enjoyed limited sex with a few boys (that is, no intercourse). It gave me a sense of domination and power over them, but I did not have personal knowledge of female orgasm. Mom and the educational system never really covered that. I learned that there was such a thing from girl-talk. I wasn't sure, though that it applied to me. That was until one boy came along who knew how to push the right buttons.
It happened on a rocky river beach behind some bushes one delightful day. It surprised me, my beau and probably everyone in earshot. The boy apparently knew the mechanics better than I did but probably hadn't realized how my climax would manifest. Then, as today, there is only a silent, twitchy build up. I may shake and jitter but make little noise. But then, when I peak I go from pianissimo to fortissimo in an instant and quite uncontrollably. In this first time case I was stunned and embarrassed and, of course, wanted to do it again, in a more sonic-ally confined environs. And I did when I also realized what masturbation was all about!
The key to achieving orgasm is not only the talent and beauty of the partner making the effort. It is also my own "letting go". We girls want to remain dignified and pretty during sex. One lets go by realizing and accepting that sex is funny looking, with strange noises and contorted expressions. No one can keep their dignity when coming. That's the law. Vet someone who will collaborate, who is enthusiastic, fun, trustworthy (respectful, discreet, non-violent, safe) and not on a power trip, then dive in and let go. Unobstructed by guilt, fear, or the need for decorum you will unleash the sensations and maximize their impact.