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Love in the Rockies
On my twenty-first birthday I made a solemn, very private vow. I would not be a virgin by my next birthday.
Although not handsome, I wasn’t bad looking. I was 6’2″ tall and weighed 180 pounds with blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair. I wasn’t an athlete, but I was in good shape.
My biggest problem was shyness. I’d been one of those skinny little kids with glasses who would rather read than hang out. I didn’t do well at parties and I found it almost impossible to strike up conversations. I hadn’t done much dating in high school. By the time I worked up the nerve to ask a girl out, she was already taken or wasn’t interested.
In 1972, I was in my third year at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, Wyoming’s only four-year college, I changed my major from Engineering to Computer Science, which gave me free time. I became friends with Bob and Rich, who lived next door in the dorm. They introduced me to marijuana.
Theatre had always been one of my big interests, so I took theater courses for my required English and Humanities credits. I worked on a number of plays and, with my new-found social life, eventually found myself almost as busy as I had been in Engineering. But I was much happier.
I still wasn’t dating in Laramie. When I visited my old friend Larry in Colorado Springs, I’d double date with him, his girlfriend Janna and one of Janna’s friends. We’d usually go out on a deserted road, park and smoke some pot. When Larry and Janna started making out in the front seat, it was natural that I’d do the same with the girl in the back seat. Most of the girls let me remove their blouses and lick their breasts. They’d stop me when I made a token attempt to unfasten their pants, but I was amazed they let me go as far as I did.
I still hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to ask a girl out myself. I didn’t have confidence that I could handle the social part of a relationship. Going out in a group seemed much safer. There was always someone else to fill in the awkward gaps in a conversation.
By my twenty-first birthday, I had realized that the only way I’d acquire any self-confidence would be to meet, date and have sex with a girl on my own.
I went to a casting call for student-directed productions. Someone handed me several pages of script, which I scanned quickly. The dialog was incredibly stilted. I decided it was a silly play, so I gave it a silly reading. By the time the other actors and I had gotten through the scene, we were all close to cracking up.
The director looked at us for a long moment and said, “I should probably tell you something about this play. A family is locked in their house at night and Death is trying to get in to take the father.”
Not surprisingly, I didn’t get a part in that play. However, one of the other directors saw something he liked in my performance and cast me in “The American Dream,” a surreal one act comedy by Edward Albee, author of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolfe”.
I don’t remember the rest of the cast very well, except for Kathy.
She wasn’t strikingly beautiful or spectacularly sexy. She was a dancer and quite athletic, but my first impression of her was “round.” She wasn’t fat at all, but her body didn’t have any sharp angles. Even her rimless glasses with wire temple pieces were round. Kathy’s face was sort of ordinary, but it possessed a sweet prettiness that seemed to grow as I spent more time with her. She had straight brown hair hanging down to her waist. Her eyes were green and she was about six inches shorter than me.
We rehearsed three nights a week for a month. With a cast of five plus the director, it was unusual for everyone to be on time. Kathy and I were the most punctual. We usually found ourselves waiting between ten and thirty minutes for the next person to arrive. During the first couple of long waits, we talked about the play and our roles. After that, we just relaxed and talked. Before long, I was arriving early, hoping that Kathy would be on time and the others would be late. Kathy and I lived in the same dorm, so I’d usually walk home with her.
The night of the performance finally arrived. Kathy’s role called for her to remove her dress and spend the last half of the play in her shoes and slip. She had the bright idea of wearing a big floppy wide-brimmed hat throughout the performance, which added the perfect comic touch. I’d been looking forward to seeing her in this non-costume and I wasn’t disappointed. She was better built than she looked with her clothes on.
We continued seeing each other after the play was over, sometimes studying and other times just hanging out. We were both taking Play Production. We had to create a complete set of materials for producing a play, including a set design, character analysis, blocking instructions and a sample program. Kathy waited until the night before the deadline to finish her project. I stayed with her in the dorm study room until 4:00 am, sometimes helping, but mostly providing moral support.
I walked Kathy to her room. Outside the door, Kathy set her class materials on the floor and turned to face me. “Thank you, Ken,” she whispered. “I’d never have finished without you staying with me. I’d invite you in, but my roommate will be sleeping.”
Her face was inches from mine and she was gazing into my eyes. She seemed to be waiting for something. I was about to say goodnight and turn away when I realized I’d never have a better chance. I summoned my courage and kissed her.
Kathy kissed me back eagerly. I put my arms around her and pulled her close. Her breasts flattened against my chest. We continued kissing for a long time. I touched my tongue to Kathy’s lips. Her mouth opened and her tongue darted against mine.
I slid my hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, pulling her crotch against mine so she could feel my erection. I wanted her to know exactly how much she was turning me on. Kathy responded by wrapping her arms around my back and crushing her chest against mine. She was breathing hard and I could feel her heart pounding.
It seemed like we kissed for hours. There was no indication that Kathy felt like stopping and I knew that I didn’t. I wanted to fuck her right there in the hall. The way Kathy was grinding her groin against mine indicated that she wanted it too. I finally pulled my face away from hers and hoarsely whispered, “We really have to get some sleep.”
“I know,” Kathy sighed. “Goodnight. That was good.”
I gave her a brief kiss, gasped “Goodnight. I’ll see you . . . later today,” and walked away. In my room, the sky behind the curtains was gray with the first light of dawn. Birds were singing. It was 5:00 am. I stripped and climbed into bed. Although I was totally exhausted, I was too excited to go to sleep. My cock was painfully hard. I considered masturbating but realized it wouldn’t satisfy me. I finally fell asleep around 6:30 am. Half an hour later, my alarm clock went off.
That was Friday morning. That night, I took Kathy to “The Last Picture Show,” a movie about coming of age socially and sexually in a small town in Texas. We walked out of the theatre holding hands.
I’d borrowed Bob’s old station wagon because it was much bigger inside than my compact car. “Want to go for a drive?” I asked as we got into the car.
“Of course,” Kathy answered, sliding into the middle of the big bench seat.
We drove east up into the mountains. All I remember about the fifteen mile trip is the wonder and excitement of feeling Kathy’s body pressed against mine. We parked in an isolated picnic area in the Medicine Bow National Forest where Bob, Rich and I went to smoke pot. I turned to kiss Kathy, but she put her finger on my lips. “Let’s get in back,” she said.
In the back seat, I began kissing Kathy on her mouth, nose, eyelids, cheeks, ears, neck . . . She moved to make it easier for me to remove her frilly white Mexican blouse and guided my fumbling fingers to the catches of her bra. I stopped to admire her bare breasts in the bright moonlight. They were fairly small, yet plump and perfectly formed. She was far more beautiful than any picture in a magazine.
“Take your shirt off,” Kathy commanded. After I’d done that, she put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me close. “Don’t be afraid to touch me,” she whispered. She was so incredibly warm, so incredibly soft and smooth . . .
Much later, she took my hand and guided it to the top button of her tan slacks. Her meaning was unmistakable.
I unfastened the button then froze with her zipper in my hand. I was torn between good judgement and desire. “I never expected we’d be going this far,” I said hoarsely. “I have some condoms, but they’re back at the dorm.”
“I have something too,” Kathy replied, “but it’s in my room.”
“OK, lets go back,” I said. “I’ll get my roommate to spend the night somewhere else.”
We got dressed and drove away. A moment after we’d pulled onto the main road, we saw the sheriff’s car turning into the picnic area where we’d been parked.
At the dorm, Kathy went to her room while I talked to my roommate. Wayne was very understanding about being evicted at 10:30 on a Friday night. He understood I was desperate and possibly dangerous, so he left with no arguments.
Kathy didn’t show up for another twenty minutes. I’d become almost certain that she’d changed her mind when she finally knocked on the door. She’d changed into blue jeans and a sleeveless black top tight enough to make it clear that she’d discarded her bra. I took her in my arms and we stood in the middle of the floor kissing.
“Let’s get into bed,” Kathy said, kicking her shoes off. I switched off the overhead light. The illuminated Earth globe on the bookshelf was on, filling the room with soft silvery light. Kathy pulled the quilt down and got onto my narrow single bed. I removed my shirt, shoes and socks and climbed on top of her.
After we’d kissed and caressed each other for a while, I got up on my knees, straddling Kathy’s hips. I tried to pull her top out of her jeans, but it wouldn’t move. I unzipped her jeans and reached inside, feeling for her shirt tail. There wasn’t one.
Kathy smiled. “It’s a leotard,” she said softly. I removed her jeans and put my hands between her thighs to unfasten the snaps. She sat up while I pulled the leotard over her head, leaving her naked. It only took me seconds to shed my remaining clothes and climb back on top of her. Kathy trembled with excitement as my naked hardness pressed against her bare flesh. “You can hold me tighter than that,” Kathy whispered. “I won’t break.”
I kissed Kathy’s face thoroughly, then moved down to her breasts. Her nipples hardened under my lips. “Come on Ken,” Kathy whispered urgently. “I’m ready.”
“OK. I’ll get a condom.” Kathy’s arms tightened around my back, keeping me from moving away. “You don’t need that,” she said. “I used some of my roommate’s foam.” She spread her legs and I moved between her thighs. After a few seconds of searching, the head of my penis was positioned at the mouth of her vagina.
I suddenly realized that I’d been at this point many times before, in my dreams. Those dreams always ended short of completion as I woke up spewing cum. “This is no dream,” I thought as I slowly pushed my cock into her. “I’m really fucking a girl!”
Kathy’s pussy was unbelievably slick, hot and tight. Penetrating her was more incredibly exciting and erotic than I’d ever imagined. Triumph was suddenly replaced with shock and self-disgust when I realized I was on the brink of climax. I tried to hold back, but it was impossible. I ejaculated as soon as my cock was fully inside her.
A wave of irrational shame swept over me. I froze for several seconds, cursing the fates and my treacherous body. Then I realized, “I’m still inside, I’m still hard, Kathy doesn’t need to know.” She must have felt the jets of cum pulsing inside her but, lost in the sensation of my entering her, she probably hadn’t realized what had happened.
I started fucking her with long slow strokes. At first it was slightly uncomfortable because my cock was still hyper-sensitive from my premature orgasm. That passed quickly. I gradually increased my speed, amazed at the pleasure the motion was generating.
Kathy began gasping and moaning as she moved her hips to match my thrusts. It was almost alarming when she started screaming and shaking beneath me. “Oh Ken! Oh yes!” she cried over and over.
After her convulsions had subsided, Kathy looked at me dreamily and whispered “You come now.” I started fucking her as hard and fast as I could, feeling myself building toward orgasm. I got close, but it was too soon for me to climax again. I screamed and gave several final violent thrusts before collapsing onto Kathy. Men CAN fake orgasms.
I stayed on top of her for a long time as Kathy gently stroked my hair. I finally started feeling cold so I moved beside her and pulled the covers up over us. “That was better than I’d ever imagined,” Kathy purred as she nestled in my arms.
“You’re wonderful,” I answered dreamily.
We didn’t speak after that, but we didn’t go to sleep. We just lay there enjoying the closeness of each other’s bodies. After a while, we resumed kissing and fondling until nature took its course. This time, my orgasm was properly timed and most satisfactory. We fell asleep, afterwards.
At dawn, Kathy put on my bathrobe and I donned my shirt and jeans. I made sure the bathroom was empty and guarded the door while she was inside. Then we returned to bed. As the critical moment approached, Kathy whispered “The foam is only supposed to be good for three hours.”
“That’s OK,” I said. It only took a second to get a condom out of my desk drawer.
That was in early spring. We used a lot of condoms between then and summer vacation.
One time, I asked Bob and Rich if they thought Kathy had been a virgin. “Of course,” Bob answered. “You can see the way she’s changed. Just like you have.”
When Kathy found the stack of “Playboys” in my bottom drawer, I thought she’d be angry. Instead, she loved looking at the pictures with me and eagerly anticipated new issues.
During summer vacation, I wrote Kathy every week. She never wrote back. When we returned to college in the fall, she gently informed me that she’d been writing to someone else.
I saw Kathy occasionally after that. In a school as small as the University of Wyoming, that was unavoidable. Except for polite small talk, we didn’t really speak. It was too painful, for me at least. My Computer Science classes became more demanding and I had to stop taking theatre courses.
The last I heard, Kathy was living in Denver with a bunch of lesbians.
Kathy, I wish you the best. We taught each other a lot about sex, love, life . . . and heartbreak. Wherever you are, whoever you’re with, I hope you’ve found true happiness. Thanks for everything.
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Copyright (c) 2003 by Ken James
This is a true story.
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