Where it happened: behind couch
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 6
Category: Straight
With so many stories about the wonders of irresponsible sex, it is time for reality. Elise isn’t her name but let’s protect the guilty. We met at Bible camp and had been in love for 17 months. It was 1956. There was a tressle table between the back of the long sectional couch and the wall. We took to doing it under that table at the end of our dates. Doing it had progressed to missionary position, trousers down to my thighs, her legs around my waist, and my rubbing my penis on her white cottons. (Replacing garter belts with panty hose is a step in the right direction.) Anytime I tugged at her waist band she would moan a whispered “Noooo”. No didn’t mean no in those days (and it doesn’t always mean no today according to my granddaughter.) I truly loved Elise, (as much as any young boy could), and I would stop. This “almost intercourse” went on all Autumn and into December.
One night she pulled her cottons aside and hissed between her teeth “Do it, damnit!” She was soaking wet. I slid right in until I felt resistance and began shallow strokes. Elise bucked up and I felt her virtue yield with a “pop” that was felt rather than heard. That caused me to pass the point of no return and pinned her to the floor going as deep as I could. We lay there for 10 seconds as I looked upon my darling’s face. Was she to be my wife? She then opened her eyes, got a frightened look, rolled me off her, burst into tears and dashed upstairs. A few minutes later her father came down in his bath robe and said, “I think it would be best if you leave immediately.” My heart was in the pit of my stomach going home.
Elise’s parents summoned my parents to her father’s bank. From behind his big mahogany desk, he announced it would be best for all concerned if I left Elise strictly alone and made no attempt to contact her ever again. The psychiatry fees were going to be more than my family could afford and there was the matter of an expensive, antique Persian rug that I destroyed. Keeping the obligations to the bank current is obviously difficult. While he would take a Christian view toward his personal funds, he had an obligatiion to the depositors who rested their trust with him. My family was devestated as this was the man who held the mortgage to our farm.
The next planting season, my father did not take on a hired man but put me to work my every spare moment. No extra-ciricular activities. No Bible camp. Put in for farm schedule, (meaning 9 hours of school after winter sets in.) The mortgage needed to be paid off. In addition, if I was so keen to start a family, I might as well learn to see what it means to support one. My brother, 2 years my junior, lived a comparative life of Rieley. Ditto Senior Spring and Summer after graduation. After that harvest, it was time to seek my fortune.
Eventually, I wound up as a CPA, founded the marriage and family most men dream about. My younger brother was given the farm. It never got out of debt to this day. I returned for my 25th reunion. Elise was there. She had written me at various time for several years but the letters were never received by me. Elise was divorced twice and had an alcohol problem. She said she never got over me and was heartbroken I never cared. I did care terribly, but eventually a person has to move on. I had an obligation to my family whether or not I moved away. It was a tough pill to swallow. I wished there was another one of me to take care of her. That made me realize I had gotten on with my life and she had not. I was also able to forgive my long dead father. He lived a life of abject servitude and terror. That life style is part of the farm my brother was given. The “injustice” to me hardened me to make something of myself.
This story is rather long but I hope young people who read this understand there are consequences to unearned pleasure.
Processing your request, Please wait....
