from A Squandered Life / Carol '69

Flimsy technical barriers....

As winter came on I carried on riding the 650, freezing as I rode through snow and ice, driving slowly and carefully, refraining from ever touching the front brake. Not quite the same experience as blasting down warm roads on sunny summer days, but it was transport and gave me independence of movement and a certain amount of cool. In fact, I think it was the bike that first attracted the attention of women to whom I might find myself drawn.

The first of these was a lissome dark haired blue eyed beauty I first met hanging out with a fellow student called Gus. Gus was a maritime champion wrestler for the university whom I'd known through a guy called Earl, a former Doyler who also wrestled for the university. Earl knew I'd wrestled at High School and urged me to come and try out for the university squad.

Unfortunately, the guy in my weight class was Gus and I could see at a glance that I was never going to make it to the first team. Gus was very softly spoken (I often couldn't understand what he was saying) but had massive shoulders and arms which spoke volumes. He earned spare cash as a bouncer at university Student Union functions. He introduced me to Carol at one of these functions. I was immediately taken with her, and she'd already seen my bike so there was a certain amount of chemistry. A day or so later I checked with Gus as to what his intentions might be and he said, as near as I could make out, “It's all right. I don't mind.”

Shortly thereafter I offered Carol a ride on my bike. What could she say but “okay”? I took her down the Portugal Cove Road and into our luxury flat. She didn't seem put off by either the flat or Cal and became a regular visitor. It turned out she was a nurse at the General Hospital and not a student at all. She lived in the towering nurse's residence, a fabled building during my time at Doyle because of its copious human reproductive potential. This meant she had to be summoned to a reception area on pick up and returned, Cinderella-like, before allotted hours at set down. At the beginning of our relationship this created an interesting frisson, but became a bit wearing as I struggled to achieve consummation. Carol eventually agreed to an over-nighter on the condition that I didn't “try anything”. This too had its frissons but, again, over time, became a problem as my hard wiring battled to achieve its sordid genetic ends.

After a few sleep-overs of dizzying fumblings and embraces and misguided ejaculations I got pompous and said “this can't go on”. It did of course, until, in the course of one night of particularly intense wrestling, I managed to remove that source of both tantalising rapture and suffocating frustration - her skimpy panties. With this flimsy technical barrier out of the way she succumbed and I was able to achieve my wicked evolutionary purpose and we became lovers of an intensity I could hitherto only imagine.

All my previous immersions in the wonders of physical intimacy with the female of the species had seemed urgent and fleeting, with no time to build up the familiarities and soft sub-routines which make longer term mating the holy grail that it is. Her gentle unresisting white body became like a home to me. I was always wanting to go back and couldn't get enough of it. Sometimes, picking her up at the nurse's residence, it took all my will power not immediately to drag her into a dark corner and explode into her. She quite clearly sensed this and would tease me in the lobby with glimpses of thigh or breast and on the bike with surreptitious gropings until we got back to the flat where she would get her come-uppance in spades.

When she wasn't on duty I would never get to the campus to pursue studies, let alone do any “home work”. When we weren't in bed we were touring the coast roads and the bays and the fishing villages with only the occasional foray into town or to one of the new shopping malls for essential purchases.


© 2013 Deacon Martin

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