This all started as talks with my wife about my sex drive vs. hers. She holds the viewpoint that I am somewhat overly focused on sex at our age, which is for us, early our 50s. We have had many discussions and comparing of experiences. What it all actually accomplished is yet to be seen.
Chapter 2.0 -- Rhonda
Within the first few weeks of my freshmen year of college, I had been at more parties, drank and toked-up more than I had ever thought about doing in High School. I had also played more gigs and had more private students than ever before. I was busy, but I had more than enough cash for my needs and for fun.
So far, my only college experience with girls was a one-time-thing with Lenore, a hot black girl I had known for years as a classmate back to elementary school and fellow band student from Jr. high on. The situation was both thrilling and frustrating. We had used each other at a party and it was what it was, a horny fling.
The possibilities of a more than a "fling" situation developing between us were blocked by her out-of-state boyfriend and the dangers of inter-racial dating in the south during the 1980s. It's hard to believe that I'm saying that now, but that's the way things were back then.
Checking out the other band girls and the general scene had been mostly a fruitless endeavor. Due to my usual level of clueless-ness, I had been unaware of a few girls checking me out. About this time I first learned to appreciate mentoring.
I had a good friend from my hometown who was one of the few real working musicians in the school and was a Resident Assistant. He saw my naΓ―ve self being cruised by one of the female seniors in the band. He told me she was a slut and that I should steer clear. It was doing me a solid. She had gone through about 4 to 5 freshmen by the time I got another tip.
According to his girlfriend, a freshmen French horn player was hot for me, but shy. Part of the shyness had to do with having had the slutty senior talking to me frequently. I was too nice to tell "Miss Slutty" to piss-off, so she continued to hit on me about every day for the first few weeks of school. Every day was about how quickly she went from guy to guy.
I had noticed Rhonda the horn player too. She was a 5-9 fair-skinned blonde with curly hair that would be best described an "Anglo-fro". She tended toward just a bit plump and had two outstanding features- her as I would soon find out 40D tits.
There is no way even the gayest guy in band hadn't noticed her puppies. She was usually dressed for rehearsals in a semi-modest manner with no bikini tops under a cut-off t-shirt or tank tops for her. It took more of a top to manage her assets, but her clothing choices didn't detract from her charms.
I should have caught on to her early in the year. I took my tank top off to pour some cool water over my head during a pre-school rehearsal and was razed by a couple a female friends and few of the guys. Just about the moment I told all of them to fuck off, Rhonda walked up, slightly flushed, hot and sweat-ish. Whipping off her t-shirt, she showed off a bright blue bikini top barely containing her bosoms.
Leaning over in front of me, she doused herself with cold water. Her burdened bikini top held up to the continuing strain of a full load of tits, but let everyone see her hard nipples poking at the fabric. The consensus was that the show was for me.
"Nice" I thought, along with now stop looking at her tits flashing thru my heat-addled brain. As Rhonda stepped away from the cooler, Curt, my friend, Resident Assistant in my dorm and soon to be roommate asked me:
"Did you SEE her TITS?" Jesus Christmas, she wanted you too. She was looking after you to gauge your reaction"
"Oh, don't fuck with me like that," was my usual answer to his goading and taunting of me. "She was just coolin' off." I continued.
" We will talk later, Son. You need to get yer head out of your ass in so many ways".
Brilliantly, I answered, "Curt, ...Fuck off!"
"Some people are beyond help, Mal."
And we did talk several times about how and why I was so oblivious to signals, how many girls he thought would date me and/or blow my candle out. In the long run, he was saving me years of cluelessness and potentially some therapy bucks.
It was at the third or fourth Sand Bar Party that Rhonda ended up sitting by me fireside. She had been within a few feet of me all night and had certainly managed to get me wondering where she was at any given moment. I had developed both longing and paranoia where she was concerned and tried to gather enough courage to speak to her.
When I got about drink past keeping track of her, she came to sit down by me and touched my shoulder as she sat, using for support and getting my full attention at the same time. She was barefooted on this early autumn night with no shoes in sight and about the sexiest thing I had seen ever, never mind my booze consumption. My slight foot fetish is no doubt to be blamed on her.
She was dressed in jeans and a halter-top. The top had no choice but to display her amazing cleavage even though a light knit zipper front jacket covered her shoulders and arms. I was buzzed, horny and enraptured.
Then she spoke, "You look like a man having a good time." All I could do was try to maintain eye contact and nod. Coming out of my trance, I managed to notice her cup was empty.
"How about a rum and coke, Rhonda?"
Now she nodded as she handed me her cup for me to fill. Rum..., ice..., coke...and a lime wedge. I was glad that I didn't fuck that up.
"You're sweet. Thanks for sharing..."
Holy shit, I think I have a clue now. She just made a choice to ignore my head being so far up my ass and to make the first move her self. In all truth it was probably more like her 10th or 12th move and likely I had missed the others.
The evening went by with Rhonda edging closer to me with out making real contact, but being very present and keeping me talking. It took about half a drink more for me to get caught looking at her tits.
I re-established her gaze in time to figure out she was leaning in towards me to give a sweet kiss with a tip of the tongue icing. I was immediately hoping that would not be all for the night.
From across the fire, Curt and his fiancΓ© Linda were grinning like they had a secret as they stared across the dwindling fire, keeping an eye on the two of us and observing our kissing and very light fondling. I'd have taken a moment to wonder about what they were thinking, but I was way more interested in getting a better look at Rhonda's tits.
Rhonda changed my temperature again by asking, "Mal, did you drive here yourself?"