I met him at a college party. This was my first year at secretarial school in Boston, and a bunch of us girls had been invited to a party at one of the four-year colleges. This was one of the engineering schools, so the party was a little dull but okay, considering.
It was 1973 and we were all talking about the Oil Crisis. I overheard the guys talking about a new DEC PDP-6 computer in the computer lab and how they were playing something called Space War on it. We girls were reading in the women’s magazines about all the new kinds of contraceptives we could use, like the pill and the IUD.
I ended up sitting at a table, playing hearts with one of my friends and a couple guys from the college. One of the guys was really tall, dark-haired, with a full but thin beard, and deep-set blue eyes. He was older, and he seemed kind of funny and really smart.
After the hearts game ended, he invited me to see a little of the campus. We walked around, and another student, a giant—really a giant, over six-foot-five—came with us. This older guy was tall, too, about six-foot-three. They both were pleasant, and when the tour ended, the older guy invited me to his room.
He showed me around for a minute. For a college room, it was nice. He had a nice stereo and, wow, a water bed! I’d heard about those, and now I’d seen one. How had he gotten that in a college dorm? Then he pulled me to his chest and kissed me. It was a nice kiss.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Eighteen,” I said.
He kissed me again.
“Eighteen, you're sure?” he said.
“Yes!” I said, “I turned eighteen three months ago.”
I had been asked that a lot here in Boston, and what did this guy have in mind? We hadn't even dated yet.
He laid me on the water bed and hopped beside me, and we did some more kissing. He started playing with my breast. It felt nice.
“I've got something to tell you,” I said.
“Yes?” he said as his hand moved from my breast to my tummy. That was nice too.
“I'm a virgin.”
His hand moved into my crotch, and he gave me a nice pussy rub. Umm.
“Do you want to be one?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
He thought about what I’d said, and then he said, “I can live with that … if you can.” And he kissed me some more.
What an ego! But he hadn’t done anything I needed to say “no” to yet. His hands and lips felt good. His beard tickled a little at first, but now it just added to the sensation when he moved around my face and neck.
He slipped my sweater and bra off up over my head and then took his shirt off. He played a little more with my naked breasts, kissed them a couple times, and then hopped on me. He was nice and smooth. I could tell he was getting off on me, and I was getting off on him.
He hugged and kissed me for a while longer and then stops and said, “It’s late now. Can I take you back?” Just like that, he was finished! Well, it was late, and he also wanted my phone number, which I gave him. He drove me back across the Charles River to Backbay in a nice, blue, two-seat convertible that looked sort of like an MG sports car but wasn't. It was a beautiful autumn night, and the top was down. It was the wonderful end to an evening with a perfect gentleman. He kissed me as I got out. Would he call again?
He called me next Wednesday. “Am I free Saturday night?” I repeated. You bet!