Yesterday I was saddened to hear that an idol of mine, a folk singer with such class and elegance that he stood alone, had passed away at the age of seventy-two.
There aren’t enough words to properly describe Richie Havens so I will let an excerpt of a book I wrote a while back say it for me now… RIP Richie.
High School was…High School. Most people look at it is as a coming of age period. The problem for me was that I had already cum…several times and not by my own hand. The experiences while living in California had advanced me sexually beyond many kids my age and the things that were of interest to the people I was meeting were worlds away from where I felt I was headed. I didn’t feel I fit in right away and the few friends I had made in the short time I’d been there so far were hopelessly lost adolescents and the girls were indifferent to a, somewhat, geeky looking stranger.
Fortunately I met (or re-met) Jill. Her dad had been my grandparent’s landscaper while he was going to college to get his teaching degree. He would bring her along when he knew my brother, sister and I were going to be there and we’d play games or hang out in the tree house in the backyard while he worked. Once we moved to California I don’t remember seeing her when we’d come back for visits during the summers over the next five or six years.
Jill and I had a first period class together. I didn’t recognize her but thought she was cute and she didn’t have a clue as to who I was but we made eye contact that first morning that seemed familiar. I don’t think either of us could tell you why but when we saw each other and had barely sat down next to one another when we started behaving like old friends and ended up talking a lot each morning at school for the first few days of the beginning of the year. There was an immediate connection and I felt like I’d known her my whole life which was bugging the hell out of me in the back of my mind. It wasn’t until I went with her after class one day to drop something off to her dad that I realized who she was and that he was one of my teachers. It still took a little more talking before the light went on in my head as to who he was and why I knew him. He thought it was funny…I was mortified.
Even so, I sensed she was a kindred spirit and quickly discovered over the remainder of that day her interests were very similar to mine and I wasn’t in a hurry to end what seemed to be a potentially interesting relationship over who her dad was. We liked the same movies, music, books, food, art and, eventually, the same curiosity about sex.
One afternoon while her parents were gone we were in her room having a very serious discussion about Iron Butterfly with “Inna Gadda Da Vida” pounding out of her phonograph while the smoke from a stick of Sandalwood incense floated around us. I was sitting on the edge of the bed watching her semi-dance around the room to the music while she talked. Then, without any notice, she walked over and gave me a kiss. That wasn’t really anything new at this point. We’d been kissing so much since day one our lips were raw most of the time but this time seemed different. More intimate. I don’t know what possessed me to do it but as she stepped closer I reached up under her brown and red checked mini dress and grabbed her ass. She didn’t resist. Instead she started breathing harder, kissing me harder so I slid my hands inside her panties…still no resistance. I grabbed her panties and started sliding them down her legs. She started shaking but just held onto me tighter and continued to kiss me. I hadn’t felt that since several months earlier when I first saw and touched my Jr. High girlfriend naked for the first time so I felt back in familiar territory for the moment. As her panties hit the floor she shuddered then moved to get onto the bed. There was no sense of shyness about her. She lay down with her legs spread slightly apart making no attempt to hide her pussy from me while I sat next to her and just looked at me with a never before seen look of anticipation on her face as I started working a finger in and around her pussy, stroking what little hair she had there. Something I had done many times before at that point with other girls…albeit clumsily. Then she grabbed my hand and guided it where she wanted me to touch her and at what speed and pressure. Just then the song winds out of a solo and back into a more intense version of the first few bars of the song. The next thing I know she has a death grip on my wrist and she’s bouncing all over the bed like she’s having a seizure before the song crashes to the end with her going completely still and hardly breathing as she lets go of her grip on my wrist. I sat there in shock not knowing what to do while I hear the record needle click along before the arm lifts up and over then shutting the player off with a very long silent moment following it. Before I could panic she sits up like a rocket and gives me a big passionate kiss before breathlessly exclaiming “Man, that was fantastic!” and flops back on the bed. A moment later we hear the backdoor close as I’m picking her panties up off the floor. She quickly grabs them from me and stuffs them behind her just as we hear a knock on the door and her mom sticks her head in and asks “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah Mom we’re fine.” And the door closes leaving both of us in a fit of giggles. The added excitement of nearly getting caught quickly became the first area we explored and sought out new and interesting ways to push that envelope. The world became our playground…literally. Nothing was too out of bounds to try.
One afternoon, with Richie Havens singing “Freedom/Motherless Child” on the radio, we took the next step and while she lay on the bed in her dress minus her panties I went down on her. I’ll admit right now I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but I more than made up for that fact in earnest effort and was rewarded with my first blowjob from her while updates from the concert in a place called Woodstock were being broadcast between the songs that day. My cock had barely passed her lips and touched her tongue when Robert Plants voice began screaming over the radio as the beat pounded along with the few thrusts it took to cum. You would have had to use a stopwatch to time how long it took me to cum. Before we had barely started it was over, but I didn’t care! It was a blowjob! At least by now I knew enough to be proud about such things. I came in her mouth and all over her face. She looked amazing even though the look on her face was saying she wasn’t sure she liked that part just yet. (Eventually she loved it)
And so things progressed on into the fall, bringing an end to an adventurous summer. We both improved our sexual skills and experiences on a daily basis. I learned to really enjoy the moistness of her mouth around my cock and that I loved the taste of her pussy juices.
One evening my parents were throwing another summer party (which they did quite frequently back then). Jill and I snuck out to the shed in the backyard with half a bottle of wine we stole from the party, a blanket, and my transistor radio. That night, with Richie Havens, once again, singing “Freedom/Motherless Child” from the Woodstock Soundtrack album way playing on the radio. An album I bought the day it hit the shelves almost as much for the photos as the music that showed us thousands of people frolicking in the mud naked on the cover, we lost our virginity.
My cock had entered uncharted territory. With a little fumbling, and more than one missed shot, I finally entered NIRVANA. Her legs shot open from the initial pain and loss of her “cherry” but she held on tight and the passion swelled to new heights in both of us. We made so much noise my dad came out to see what was going on and we almost got caught. If it hadn’t been for the timely entry of a cat from behind the shed we would have surely been caught, literally, with our pants down. There we were crouched down in the shed with our bare butts showing peering through a crack in the shed door hoping he’d just go back in…which he did. How appropriate it was at that moment we were hearing Crosby, Stills and Nash just then. They had just taken the stage and were talking to the audience trying to get the courage to play when David Crosby blurts out “I don’t know about you…but we’re scared shitless up here!” (The radio bleeped that part but we knew the words by heart and broke out laughing.) We sat there quietly holding each other afterwards and drank the wine and talked about Woodstock more to give us something to talk about other than what we had just done. That was an awkward conversation best left for another day at that moment. And POOF…in an instant our childhood was gone. Neither of us had any regrets, but we were innocent no more.
We would break up a short time later. Our lives would eventually go in separate directions after college, but we would run into each other now and then over the years after that. She looked even more beautiful than when we were in school. Jill married a man of great wealth and it showed. We’d always be glad to see one another and promise to call and catch up, but we never did. Then she would walk away alone.
I saw the movie Woodstock when it came out. I saw all of the people dancing naked in the rain and mud getting high, making love. I saw Richie Havens take center stage alone with just his guitar to confront four hundred thousand people and WOW them with his songs. I sat there in the dark and thought about Jill and what she and I had experienced together that summer and fall and felt a kindred spirit to those people in the mud. I was too young to be there, but on the other side of the country I had had my own festival of awakening.
The other night my wife and I were at a party drinking and playing the night away with old and new friends/ playmates. While my wife was off in a room occupied by several women and her who were doing their damndest to see who could make whom cum the hardest while being cheered on by various husbands and boyfriends. I was getting to know a rather attractive, leggy, woman in a cute little school girl skirt better in a hallway just outside an empty bedroom. Our conversation was quickly progressing from less talking to more playing which prompted me to move her from the wall she was leaning on to a vacant bed through the door behind me. Our hands began to explore each other’s bodies as we un-did, un-zipped, and un-hooked clothing in record speed while attempting to gracefully free ourselves of the confines of our attire. My fingers found the beginning of her inner thigh just above her knee and they began a long slow caress up the length of her thigh to her pussy. I could feel the heat between her legs intensifying as my fingers inched slowly closer. Suddenly her back arched off of the bed and a quick gasp escaped her mouth. I began to hear the opening bass and organ refrain of “Inna Gadda Da Vida” echoing in my head as her body began to quiver and her breathing became harder. Thirty-five years start flying away and the fifteen year old starts to return by the time I’m sliding my cock inside her. The thrusts, the movement, the experience is the man I am today, but the passion and enthusiasm is very much the boy of my youth. “Whole Lotta Love” is now playing in my head and the rhythm of my motion matching the beat in my head. Before long we both begin to cum hard and collapsed in a heap on the bed sweating and breathing heavily. We untangle ourselves from each other and just lay there for a moment giving each other kisses and “thank-you’s” before I begin to jump up off the bed and go in search of a drink and my wife. Her husband magically appears through the door just as I’m getting up and slides on to the bed next to her and quietly holds her while she continues to gain her composure once more. “It looks like you two had a good time.” He says to her.
“Fabulous!” she gasps out, still trying to catch her breath as she did so.
I exit the bedroom and down the hall towards the kitchen and the bar while the thoughts that had accompanied me moments earlier were not lost to me in any way. Our host (a fellow photographer) has framed photos he took of various rock stars performing in concerts. The visual imagery seems very appropriate at the moment and validates my thoughts. I stop at a photo of Jerry Garcia on stage playing away as I found myself quoting from a Grateful Dead song…”what a long, strange trip it’s been.” I thought about how all of this had begun for me and I gave Jill, that girlfriend of the past, a silent toast.
A particular summer of love, the passions of youth and great music largely shaped the beginning of who and what I am today. The time was golden as were the experiences. For all of the experiences I have had since. For all of the love and happiness I have now with my wife, family and friends, those moments have never lost their luster. They have been built upon, and always will be special, but never replaced.
Our experimentation had gone on for about a year as we learned every possible pleasurable way (and place) we could find to get each other off. Then Jill and I broke up. No fanfare, no broken hearts, just a realization we’d gone as far as we could at the time. We both felt it was time to learn more from other people and we couldn’t see how we could do that together. From time to time after that until college we would remain somewhat close and “touch base” with each other to see what we had learned but we never had a full time relationship together again.
(Jill died of cancer a few years back. I didn’t know that until recently. The first thing I did was find a copy of the Woodstock soundtrack and put on “Motherless Child”…)