That Special Summer

That Special Summer

In May of 1988, I was a confused seventeen-year-old senior in high school. Confused primarily with my goals and desires for a future, and also dismayed by the breakdown of my love life. Mostly out of the desire to not be single, I had kept a girlfriend throughout high school, but there was little more than basic puppy love involved. My relationship with Sandy was no more than a thing of convenience, and our young sex life was dismal at best. I had had a few minor sexual encounters with other girls at parties, but they comprised little more than drunken groping and barely satisfying penetration. Yet these had been better than the long make-out sessions with Sandy that were doomed to hand jobs and mutual masturbation. She was intent on making me commit before she turned loose.
After several months of this, and also recognizing that we weren’t meant for each other, I decided it was time we both moved on. It was a gloriously mediocre break-up. A few tears, a good-bye kiss, a few beers with my friends, and whatever pain I had expected to feel was wiped away. I felt relieved and free, but also disappointed at the prospect of being alone. To make matters worse, I had dropped the bomb only two weeks before the senior prom. Where was I going to get a decent prom date in only two weeks? I began watching the halls and calling in advice from a few plutonic girlfriends.
“What about Betsy?” asked Christin?
I had never even considered Betsy before. She was a fifteen-year-old sophomore who had never captured my attention for more than a quick glance. She didn’t match my criteria for a serious date because she was very country, and country wasn’t cool for me. She dressed very plainly, talked very little, and when she did speak, her southern drawl was so pronounced that it didn’t sound natural. Betsy had been dating other guys since she was thirteen, and it was rumored that she was planning on getting engaged to a guy who graduated the year before and joined the Navy. I couldn’t be ultra choosy as time was running out, and it was only a prom after all. So I walked up and asked her to go.
Amazingly, she accepted on the spot and told me she would be wearing a red dress.
Two weeks later I stepped out of the front door in my rented tux and drove over to her place in my mother’s new Thunderbird. Although I didn’t listen to country music, my mother did, so I figured I would have something to Betsy’s liking in the cassette player. When I pulled up to her home, I was a bit nervous. Her father was a large and bombastic man who had a reputation for whipping ass in his younger days. He met me at the door and gave me a gruff handshake.
“C’mon down girl”, he shouted, “This boy here looks mighty nice!”
When she descended the stairs I was a little taken aback. I had never seen her dressed up before, and the dress fit her contours, showing that she was indeed well built. She smiled demurely as I gave her the corsage. We smiled happily for her parents’ camera, and asked to be excused.
Without provocation her father blurted out, “I bet this boy can make you forget about that Steve character.”
Betsy was clearly miffed at this and huffed as we went to the car. I had never thought about the fact that her parents didn’t want her seeing Steve anymore, and felt she was too young to be that serious. This was only a prom date after all.
After the initial formalities of picture taking and smiling for the parents at lead out, we took our place at a table. We made small talk, but I was thinking about the prom party after I took her home at 11:00 pm. Soon the DJ spun a slow song, and we walked out onto the floor for a dance.
As soon as we started to dance, I held her close, and she didn’t back away. Instead she laid her head on my shoulder and rocked gently to and fro. The song was very romantic, and I was caught up in the mood, so I turned my head in to see if I could warrant a kiss. She immediately returned the kiss with more passion than I had ever known. She probed my mouth with her tongue and began undulating her hips against my leg. I was sure we were garnering attention from others who knew we weren’t actually dating, but I didn’t care. I could feel my cock welling up, and I was afraid it was going to be noticeable.
Through two more slow songs, the intense petting kept up, and I could tell she was getting hot as well. Without delay I spoke up, “Do you want to get out of here and take a ride?”
Her eyes glistened as she said, “Let’s go!”
No one could have missed the fact that we were leaving the dance at only 8:30 pm. I winked at a couple of friends as we headed out to the car.
Living in a rural area, I lost no time in finding an abandoned dirt road that was secluded enough to hide us well. With the radio murmuring sweet, country, love songs, I began kissing and caressing her. I took her nimble little fingers and pulled them into my mouth one by one, and tongued her neck and shoulders lightly. She was wound up and moaning softly as I slowly ran my hand down her back, easing the zipper on her dress. I went back to kissing her deeply, and I felt her hands begin popping the stud buttons on my tuxedo shirt. As deftly as possible, I eased her seat back and pulled the dress down with her bra so that her breasts popped free from the top.