DRIVE-IN

DRIVE-IN
                          An 'Experience' Short Story


      Females are always near the center of a guy's existence.

      It was summer; I was home from college, working for Ford Motor Company, and otherwise enjoying myself as you might expect with someone who's passed through his Sophomore Year.

      I had no steady girl friend, was dating several on a very casual rotating basis, and on this particular Friday night I had nothing planned and didn't have to work the next day. It was an hour or so after dinner had ended. I heard a fuss on the front porch past the opened front door and went to see what was going on. I discovered a couple, friends of my three-years-younger brother, come to find him---and to be disappointed because Younger Brother wasn't home.

      Now let me tell you about these friends. He was a good guy and, perhaps, boon companion for 'guy stuff', he was none-the-less a sorta-clutz; socially somewhat inept. To an extent he was the butt of in-group jokes because he'd made it known that he was trying desperately to do away with the virginity of his seventeen-year-old companion girlfriend. And she, in her turn, seemed to be far too aware of the possibilities to be taken advantage of. And, as I said, he was somewhat of a clutz.

      She had been, for several weeks, resisting his advances and he was practically beside himself from having an advanced case of what was, at the time, known as 'blue balls'. Otherwise to be recognized as a physical reaction to being consistently denied, he told all his intimate buddies that he was using this supposed physical damage to his 'equipment' as an argument to gain her acquiescence. It hadn't, at least to that moment, worked.

      I was in the sort of mood that immediately made me want to take a little dig at him, so as they stood there on the porch I exclaimed, "Gee, Guy, you must have known that it's my birthday, and look what you've brought me!" (I'd never set eyes on her before.)

      I grabbed her elbow and, chattering silliness at her, I led her across the lawn. My car was parked there at the curb and I opened the door for her. 'Dave' stood open-mouthed as I jumped in and we drove away. I quickly told her that I was simply getting an elbow into Dave's ribs and, in fact, I only drove around the block. We weren't gone, altogether, for five minutes.

      But in that short space of time, Dave had left and I now felt at least a little bit bad---although the girl thought it funny. I said to her, "Where do you think he might have gone to?" Based on her suggestions we rode around for the better part of an hour looking for him.

      Our discussion ultimately got to the fact that although she had a pretty good idea regarding where he'd be likely to go toward the end of the evening, there was no telling about the hours in between. Our conversation became, then, a conference about what to do over the next two or three hours until we'd be likely to find Dave.

      When it was clear to her that I wasn't simply going to dump her, she suggested a movie and as we went down Wayne Road in what's now Westland, she suggested the Drive-In we were going past. I pulled in, paid, and we found a spot and went through the business of getting the speaker properly in the window and the sound set at a livable volume.

      Since this all happened long enough ago that cars with bucket seats were practically non-existent, my hot-rod Ford had a bench seat. As we got settled, she slid over so that the space between us wasn't even enough to be able to slip in a sheet of paper. Although I still had some slight vestige of concern about running off with Dave's girlfriend, she didn't seem to share my disquiet.

      She had a 'night off' and quite obviously was going to do what she could with it. I made the most of of our snuggled-up contact and began to kiss her fingers. Her reactions let me know that she liked the attention so I began to kiss her bare shoulder and then her neck. She reciprocated by offering her lips, and in short order we had got to the point where she undid some front-buttons as an invitation to pay attention to areas that had been, for all practical purposes, not quite attainable.

      After a minute she made a sound suggesting 'time-out' and leaning forward a bit, unhooked her bra, and then pulled it out of the way to give me clear space to operate. And I, in turn, gave her all the manual-oral-lingual attentions I could think of. We spent what seemed like several hours and was, in truth, somewhat more than half an hour during which she gave every evidence of enjoyment. During that time I probably gave her about a zillion gentle little kisses here-'n'-there; the tumescence she quickly displayed giving me 'focal-points'. She was well-endowed with that sort of mammary development and firmness that seems to be found occasionally in those just past pubescence. You know what they say about being built like a brick sh** house! (Let's keep this at 18+)

      She ultimately got to the point of holding my head with both hands, directing me from side to side, making small sounds of delight, and seemingly having a new experience. Then she pushed me back a little, changing my focus from her boobs to her face, and bringing me up short. She said, "Do it to me" in a very gritty tone-of-voice and began to pull at her skirt-hem in preparation. To a significant extent the fog in which I'd been operating dissipated. A voice in my head said, 'Whoa' and I grabbed both her hands to stop her progress. In just a few milliseconds several thoughts had flashed.

      First, she was still a few months shy of being properly of age to make such a demand. And second, to do as she was suggesting was to take on myself a responsibility that I was unwilling to accept. And third, I reiterated to myself that I'd already gone past self-imposed limits by so-involving myself with her when she could be said to 'belong' to a sorta-friend.

      I said, "Surely you know that I'm having trouble holding back..." I held her a little away from me while she took several deep breaths and slightly calmed herself. In acknowledgement of my statement she put a searching hand in my lap and what she found made clear the truth of what I'd said. I continued on, verbally, to give her all the reasons where, in my case, the 'little head' was going to be controlled by the 'big head' to turn around that oft-used phrase. I probably said, about ten times, that I was going against all male-sourced motivations. And I restrained her hand before I made a mess of things.

      Having controlled myself to that extent, (and moaning quietly to myself all the while), I suggested that it made sense to go and try again to locate Dave. We left the theatre after she put herself back together and within a half-hour found him, riding with his older brother, at a local burger joint. I apologized profusely to him for my somewhat ill-conceived joke and invited him to get in my car for a ride for the two of them back to where he'd parked. 

      It took him about five seconds to forgive me and fifteen seconds to get rid of his pique toward the girl. She allowed herself to be lavishly hugged as we drove along---with her sitting in the middle of the bench seat---and in the darkness she put her hand back in my lap and tortured me for the four-or-five miles to where I dropped them off.

      It took me several hours to go to sleep that night.

      I never saw her again. I heard 'through-the-grapevine' that she and Dave didn't stay together very much longer and he never did get what he wanted. She told a friend, who told my younger brother, that she'd 'learned a lot' from our drive-in theatre session.

      Some education doesn't come from books!