Not Quite (But Almost) First Time

My first time (i.e. “going all the way”) was still a couple of months in my future, and would be with someone entirely different. The episode of which I now speak, however, was the first experience I had spending the night in a woman’s bed, mutually sharing the mysteries of our bodies. Let me tell you how it went down.

I was released from active duty in the Navy in early 1968. After a couple of weeks back in my parent’s home, I came to realize that after a couple of years of freedom, this arrangement couldn’t last. A friend from high school and junior college days asked me if I would be interested in moving into a house he and a couple of young women were going to be renting in Berkeley. One of the women was his current girlfriend (with whom he would be sharing one bedroom) and the other (I’ll call her Linda) was the “ex” girlfriend of another high school friend, and she was some 4 months pregnant by him at the time. She got the second bedroom, and I secured a thrift store mattress to put on the living room floor and a tie-dyed blanket to cover it with so it could do double duty–couch by day, and a sleeping pad by night.

This arrangement served fairly well for the first month, at least for Linda and me. My friend and his girl had day jobs but I was kicking back collecting unemployment, while Linda kept mostly to herself in her small room. I’d smoke a little dope during the days, listening to music and recovering from the slight hangover from the previous evening’s frolic with a jug of Red Mountain wine. When I was sufficiently motivated, I would grab my guitar and head up to “the Ave.” as we called Telegraph Avenue up by the University campus, where I would plop down on the Sproul Hall steps to strum a few tunes.

On one of these occasions I was blown away to see Noel “Paul” Stookey (of Peter, Paul & Mary fame, of course) come into Sproul Plaza, which quickly drew quite a crowd of onlookers who gathered around as he gave an impromptu concert and hyped an appearance of the famous trio happening later that night. Being 22, with raging hormones and all, I always kept an eye out for any fair maidens whom I could appreciatively watch from afar. This particular day did not disappoint, for among the crowd of a hundred or so I spotted a tall, lithe woman with a mane of straight, and rather long, blond hair. Gradually, I sidled my way around the periphery of the gathered listeners until I was just a couple of feet away from her. Perfection! Standing close behind her I could watch the hypnotic undulations of her shapely backside while still being able to keep Paul in view.

Unfortunately, the moment proved to be transitory, as all such moments must be. Paul finished, wished the gathered onlookers well, and strode off leaving the crowd to dissipate, as they quickly did including the object of my adulatory regard. I briefly debated sauntering along behind her, seeking to prolong the moment but ultimately decided against it, and struck out on a return path to the house.

Some two or three weeks later Linda approached me with an interesting proposition. It seems that the other woman sharing the house felt that the nightly partying was having a deleterious effect on her and her “old man’s” relationship, and she had asked Linda to break the news to me that she wanted us out. Would I, she wondered, care to find a place of our own to share. She confessed she would need someone to help share expenses, at least until the baby was due to arrive, some 4 months off. Having no other prospect on the horizon, I readily agreed. It turned out that Linda knew of a place available in an apartment building that she had learned of from another woman with whom she had worked at some accounting firm in San Francisco, so off we went to visit with this friend and to check out the apartment.

Well, to make the proverbial “long story” somewhat shorter, the woman who was Linda’s friend turned out to be the one I had admired so ardently up on the U.C. campus. And, I was pleasantly surprised to learn, she recognized me as having been in that crowd. Her name was Kirsten, and she was in the U.S. visiting from Sweden on a work visa. She had a small apartment on the second floor of the building and the vacancy we were considering was on the third floor. I had mentioned that Kirsten was tall, probably every bit of 5’11”, which pretty much matched my 6’2″ frame, but where I was skinny and gangly and awkward, she was lithesome and willowy, with wispy, fine hair that was so blond it practically looked white. Kirsten was also older, having some 26 years against my mere 22.

Linda and I moved into the third floor walk-up apartment the following week and, as she and Kirsten hung out building on their friendship, I would accompany her on those visits downstairs, and eventually felt comfortable with dropping by to chat with Kirsten on my own. Interestingly, Kirsten assumed that I was secretly lusting after Linda. (Otherwise, why would I hang around someone who was carrying my best friend’s baby, and knowing that she was still hung up on him, hoping he would come to his senses, accept the baby, and resume their relationship?) So, I was totally unprepared when Kirsten invited me to spend an evening with her, thinking ( I believed) that she could somehow clue me in, in some gentle fashion, to the fact that things would never work out between me and Linda.

We sat on her couch sharing snippets of our life histories up to that point. I recall that at some juncture Kirsten related an incident, occurring some 1-2 years previous, when she had been raped, though I don’t recall the specific path our conversation had taken to bring us to this revelation. I likely had revealed my state of virginity and even my overwhelming sense of awkwardness in my “relations” with females, never having actually even dated anyone. Kirsten was effusively complimentary toward me, and said she felt I “just needed to loosen up a bit”. I recall we went out for a short walk on the Berkeley streets as darkness was gathering and Kirsten showed no hesitation in latching onto my hand as we strolled the empty streets.

It was getting rather late, perhaps 10 or 11 in the evening when we returned to her apartment. I was fully prepared for her to send me on my way back upstairs to my pitiful pallet for the night, but Kirsten said something to the effect of “let me try something that might help you relax.” She led me into her small bedroom and directed me to lie face down on the bed, which I did unhesitatingly. I honestly did not think anything sexual would transpire between us. As soon as I was lying prone, Kirsten got onto the bed straddling my lower back and hips and tugged my shirt and t-shirt up off my body. I was briefly awash with feelings of self-consciousness about my frankly skinny physique and the abundance of body hair on my back but those feelings were soon supplanted by a warm luxuriousness as her hands, lubricated by some lotion she apparently kept at the bedside, slid along my spine then wandered about my shoulders and sparse back muscles, kneading and massaging their way down to my lumbar region.

Her ministrations were sheer heaven! Repeatedly I could feel myself becoming tense and I would find myself holding my breath until something would trigger a release as I would exhale with an audible “whoosh” and immediately my entire body would be overwhelmed with a deep feeling of relaxation. Kirsten continued for 10 minutes or more then, stopping abruptly, she asked me to turn over. I did so, and was totally surprised to find she had, at some point, shed the sweater she had been wearing and was now sitting on the bed, smiling down at me in just her bra and jeans. Her hand playfully traced idle patterns around my chest as she explained that she was not using birth control, so she didn’t want us to have intercourse, but I could spend the night with her if I liked.

Oh, I certainly liked! My mind flew to the stash of condoms I had stuck away amongst my personal stuff back at the upstairs apartment. I had hung onto them after leaving active duty, having obtained them, one or two at a time, from a vending machine that hung on the wall of the enlisted club at my last Navy duty station, always holding out hope that they might get put to some good use eventually. But, I knew, it would be very awkward to beg off to run get one. If Linda were still awake, what would I say to explain what was going on? So, I readily agreed to the “ground rules” for our tryst. Kirsten stood and flipped off the remaining lights, though there was still some illumination provided by the lights from the street outside, streaming in through the window. She quickly stripped off her jeans and settled into the bed next to me. I took the opportunity to shed my remaining clothes as well.

I can’t say that I displayed any particular expertise as a lover that night. It was much more a voyage of discovery for me, and I delighted in each revelation my wandering fingers and tongue uncovered. When we kissed, our tongues darted back and forth between our mouths, twisting and writhing like a couple of mating snakes. Kirsten, probably to save me from the embarrassment of having to fumble, removed her own bra, which I took as an indication her breasts were now open for exploration, again a first for me. I recall being awestruck with the rubbery tactile sensation of her erect nipples and bumps on her areolas. Kirsten had a dancer’s body, with small breasts that just managed to fill and warm each hand, but they certainly felt perfect to me. My hands eventually released their hold and slid downward as we lay entwined, insinuating themselves under the rims of her panties to cup the cheeks of her buttocks. At some point, Kirsten grasped my right hand and directed it back to her front, my palm now nestled over her sparse bush. The tips of my fingers pressed on, seemingly of their own will, until I felt my middle finger sink between the folds of her labia then plunge into her moist, slick pussy. With this, Kirsten sucked in a quick gasp of air before releasing a low, guttural moan (practically right into my ear, which I found sooo sexy) as I slowly began to finger fuck her luscious snatch. At the same moment, her hand found my cock, which she began to pump determinedly along the shaft.