Anna’s fantastic piece of erotic fiction made me reflect fondly over my experiences of sex in public. Most of them were thoroughly enjoyable, hurried but intense. Except for the first time. I’m wincing at the memory. I cringe in sympathy for my high school self, when I was a bundle of hormones and inexperience. And the poor souls I experimented with! Dear boys, you have my heartfelt apologies. Except for you, Mike. I will forever hold a grudge about how crappy it was when you took my virginity. Two minutes? REALLY??? (He has since friended me on Facebook. I can say these things.)
But I’m thinking specifically of a different boy. I was a senior and he was a junior. Brian was active in his youth group, the president of student council and an all-around nice guy. We shared a study hall, and he enjoyed scooting his desk next to mine under the guise of needing tutoring with his English Lit class. He was sweet and funny, and I knew that dating him would be a mistake. My mind had already fled the halls of high school and was permanently fixated on the summer before I entered college. I wasn’t good girlfriend material, and commitment was not part of my vocabulary.
My parents had a maroon Dodge Caravan that was an eternal source of embarrassment for me in front of my girlfriends. However, it was spacious, a fact that I felt needed repeated testing. Brian was my willing accomplice, but his mother stayed at home and was extremely vigilant about her youngest son’s activities. I was not on the approved youth group list nor in parent-sanctioned after school activities. She knew where my mind was better than Brian did.
I, on the other hand, lived in the middle of nowhere. My family tree consisted mostly of farmers, and growing up, I lived down a twisting, unpaved road that was popular with local teenagers who wanted to make out unmolested. (Until my grandpa appeared by their rear window toting his shotgun. But that’s a different story.) Both my parents worked, so we decided that if we were going to use the minivan to its fullest capabilities, then we should go to my house.
I parked the minivan in the driveway an hour before my parents were due home. It was winter, and it was already dark. I was feeling adventurous and naughty (probably a permanent state at that age) and decided to give Brian a treat: a blowjob in a car! He sat in the back seat, and I knelt between his knees. To my credit, I applied myself vigorously to this task, and to his credit, he was very appreciative.
I used my teeth. Not in a biting kind of way, but still…
I can practically hear the shrinkage happening as you read those words. I’M SORRY!
Here’s my one point of rationalization and then I’ll go back to apologizing: I didn’t know any better, and at the time, Brian said it felt amazing. We were both caught up in the scandal of oral sex a few feet from my front door, our hormones racing, out in public (as close as one gets to “public” in farm country) under a canopy of stars. He orgasmed minutes before my father drove up and parked behind us.
I didn’t know it, but that night began a love affair with me in the outdoors. Not necessarily fucking outside, but the joy of me and another naked body exposed to the elements. There’s nothing quite like the tension between fear of discovery and lust. It can be a heady and intense combination, although they’re somewhat tainted with regret now. I will forever feel bad about hurting that boy’s penis, even though it was purely unintentional. Should I post a belated apology on his Facebook wall? Or is there some statute of limitations on penis apologies?