High Anxiety

When I was a senior in college, I had my first sexual encounter with a girl who was in my field, in my major. We had shared a few classes together, and swapped books when we weren't in the same class at the same time.

 It had been arranged that we would go down the street just off campus to the State Theater and catch High Anxiety at the early showing about 7:30 p.m. This was in the days when most theaters had only two showings an evening, except for early matinees. I picked her up, which meant walking her down the street from her apartment building a matter of five blocks to the theater.

Since we were college kids, money was tight, but I had won a couple of passes to this theater and they were going to expire soon if I didn't use them up. We had been on a couple of dates, but I hadn't made a move on her, as I was a proper young gentleman of modest dress and modest hair. Long hair was no longer in fashion, but shaggy hair was. I was a little shorter than that, but still within current standards. The hippy era was over, though the music of the era was still playing as gold standards on MOR radio stations.

This was about 1978, when Mel Brooke's films were all the rage, and his initial hits "Blazing Saddles" and "Young Frankenstein" had given way to "Silent Movie" and "High Anxiety". Clever movies but not side splittingly funny any more.

When the movie ended, we walked back toward her apartment and I offered to buy something at McDonald's. She declined but thought maybe we should stop at the corner Quick K convenience store so that she could pick up some milk and pop. We walked inside and while she walked around the store, I walked to the check out counter. The guy and gal right in front of me were buying a fifth of vodka, orange juice and with great laughter, a pack of condoms that was on a rack next to the register. They left, kissing, arm in arm. I immediately grabbed a 3 pack and slapped down my two bucks, asking the clerk to ring me out. I had just pocketed them when my date walked up with her items. She said she'd buy them, and asked what I had bought. I froze and the clerk came to my rescue without missing a beat: "Tic-tacs" was what he said, and he offered her one from a pack he just plucked from the rack and the clerk shot me a wink.  He never charged me for the pack that he gave to her. I own him.

We walked back to her apartment, and she asked me if I wanted to come in. I did, and she put on some music. The record player she had was defective, though she didn't know it. It played 33 1/3 rpm records at something like 40 rpm and the songs all ran a little too fast. I felt it comical, like the keystone cops when she played the Boston album and it lasted only 18 minutes instead of 22.

She made herself a drink of rum and coke and offered one to me. I suggested it be very weak, as I wasn't a drinker, and she let me do it. I asked where her roommate was, and was told she was working at the women's crisis center overnight. I had some idea of what that was, but didn't push, cause a feminist roommate could have negative impacts on everything from the atmosphere of our relationship and god knows what else.

We sat on the couch and talked about school until I needed to use the restroom. In the bathroom I sat on the toilet and pulled the box of condoms from my pocket. I opened it and took out the set of three condoms, tucking them in my pants pocket.  That's when I saw it.

There was already an empty three pack box of condoms  in the trash. Hope flickered in my brain but I didn't know who had bought them nor why. Well, I knew why, but I didn't know who or when. Was it the roommate or my date? Or had a visitor left them?
While I pondered this, I noticed that her bathroom wall tiles had been cracked and falling out. The small one inch squares were in a random pattern, but the adhesive they had been fastened with was giving up and here and there, large sets of them had fallen off the wall.

When I left the bathroom, I commented on the tiles, and my date confirmed they had been deteriorating all winter. They had asked the landlord if they repaired and replaced the tile if he would give them a break on the rent, and he had agreed. As a result, they had been patching and grouting them back a little at a time. They hoped to be finished by the end of school. I was impressed that they had negotiated a reduction in rent and would try it themselves. She seemed to be a very handy, self-sufficent person.

She freshened her drink and came back to sit closer on the couch to me. She commented that the couch wasn't very comfortable, but it was the roommate's bed and she seemed not to mind. She explained that the roommate was volunteering at the women's crisis counseling center. I asked what that meant, and she told me that the gal wanted to become a social worker and this would help give her experience. She said there were benefits because of what she brought home... like free condoms.

The ice was broke, and I pressed forward, asking if that's what the box in the bathroom was from. My date blushed and said she hadn't seen the box, but yes, it's where they had come from. Her roommate had believed in always keeping a stash on hand, though she never saw her use one. Then she laughed and admitted that she never knew if she ever dated, and said that the supply level never seemed to dwindle. We both laughed and I let her off the hook. She got up and walked into the bathroom, closing the door and when she came back, she was in a dressing gown robe. She confirmed they were the brand that the center stocked, and she held one single package out to me on the flat of her hand to inspect.

I took this as an invitation, and leaned forward to look at it, then lifted my head and closed in for a kiss. She was willing and her puckered lips met mine in the dim light of the living room.
We kissed for a short time and I asked again "How long did you say your roommate would be gone?"

She laid back and pulled me onto her, and we smooched on the couch. I slipped a hand up insider her open robe and discovered that she had no bra on. I cupped my hand over one breast and gave it a warm, gentle squeeze and she kissed me even more deeply than before. breaking off with a playful smack. She said, "I thought you might be gay when you never made a pass at me all these weeks."

"I''m too much of a gentleman," I admitted, and then added, "and I had a unhappy love affair a few years ago." She let it go and started to fumble with the buttons on my shirt. I kept kissing her as she undid every one and then started on my pants buckle. I took over and unfastened my belt, starting to slip off my pants as I stopped and said, "Will your roommate miss her supplies if we use one?" It was the moment of truth and I knew it.

"These aren't hers," admitted my date, as she opened the robe and gave me a view of her naked body. She had dark brownish black hair that matched her pubic hair. Her ample 36D breasts were smooth and white, with puckered nipples that were erect where I had brushed them.

As she rearranged the pillows on the couch to make room, I slipped the last of my clothes off, and I caught her steeling looks at my erect ****. As I sat down, I told her that she'd have to take the lead. I had been badly...well, I was gun-shy from my last experience two years ago.

"Two years?" she marveled. "What happened?"

"Let's just say things didn't go the way either of us wanted and leave it at that," I summarized.

My date had produced a bottle of Vaseline intensive care lotion and asked for me to smooth it on her, so I warmed some in my hands and rubbed it all across her shoulders, her boobs, her chest, her back, her buns, and her legs, and stopped short of her *****. "Well, go on," she instructed me, and I teased her in reply, "Don't I get any?" and I laid back.

She rocked forward and this time she coated my shoulders and chest, down to my ****, stopping just short of smearing it with lotion when I pointed out that a latex condom shouldn't come in contact with anything petroleum based. She said she didn't know that, and asked if we should get one on.

So I opened the pack she held out with trembling hands, and unfurled it down my stiff shaft. She ran a hand down around my pubic hair and I flinched, ticklish, but she said, "She must have really hurt you."

"I'm trembling from nerves" I confessed, and she replied, "Then let me take charge, OK?"

She walked forward on her knees until she was straddling my hips and with one hand, she guide my **** up to her wet and warm ***** as she sat back upon it. It seemed difficult for her to get it in, but with a few lunges, it was entirely coated and slipped  in easily.

I reached up and took both breasts in both hands and gently kneaded them as she rocked slowly back and forth, purposefully. She checked with me to make sure it felt good, and since I hadn't experienced this before, i told her everything was fine.

I dropped one hand down to play with her ***** and ****, but couldn't find it. She asked me to squeeze her nipples and from my readings of sex books, I knew to be gentle. "Harder" she instructed me, and so I took more of the aerola in between my thumb and forefinger and rolled them more firmly. She started to take deeper breaths and rocked more forcefully, scrubbing her ***** against my pubic hair. After another minute or two, she leaned back and heaved a deep sigh, and then opened her eyes and asked me what I wanted.

I told her I was good, that I was happy if she was satisfied. "Don't you want to come?" she asked, and I admitted that I would, but didn't think I was going to be able to right now. It was all too new, and the sensation deadened by the condom, and that I didn't want to appear too forward. She accepted that, and got up off me and walked to the bathroom to clean up. I turned and started to get dressed, pulling my shorts on over the condom which was still on my ****. I was almost dressed when she came out of the bathroom in her robe and asked if I wanted to stay the night and try again in the morning.

I said there wasn't enough room and her roommate would come back to find us. I wasn't interested in having a scene with a women's clinic volunteer who wasn't getting any action when she found a man in her bedroom. So she watched me as I tied my shoes and finished tucking in my shirt.

She stood up with me and wrapped her arms around my neck, telling me that she had a good time and would like to do it again. And I nodded, and said alright, but didn't know what else to say. I gave her a kiss, and she pressed harder with her lips than I did. We released and I walked out the door turning to say goodnight.

As I walked down the walk in the early evening gloom, I realized I needed my bus pass to ride tot he other end of campus and slip back in the dorm. As I reached for my wallet, that's when I felt the condoms in my front pocket, and realized that I hadn't needed to buy them after all. But I was thinking that I would have them on hand for all future dates, if they would last several months. I was intending to go slow.

Little did I know that they would all be used up within a month with her.
studfinder studfinder
56-60, M
Jan 6, 2013