One thing about living in California – whether you were born and raised there or just passing through – at some point, you’ll find yourself doing something you never imagined. That’s part of the reason I moved there.
In 1992, I was living at Ocean beach in San Diego, attending community college, and working at the Olive Tree market. Life was good. I knew I was at the beginning of the rest of my life, and I said yes to every new opportunity – provided it wouldn’t cause me physical harm. I probably should have re-evaluated that philosophy from time to time but that is what our early 20’s are for, right? Right.
My living situation was a bit tumultuous, as it had recently been discovered that I was dating the ex-boyfriend of my roommate, while living with my then boyfriend. Complicated, yes. Unheard of? No. Fortunately, one of our neighbors was moving to another part of OB and I signed up as a live-in nanny for her little kids. Our home was cozy – the kids shared a double bed and I slept in the single bunk above them. Their Mom was the definition of an earth mama. Beautiful, curvaceous, wise, with a huge heart and a sharp edged wit to her. And really soft skin. I know this because one night, when the kids were away and we had too many margaritas, we laid in her bed, laughing and making out. I don’t remember how we went from laughing at the bar to laughing in bed, but I do remember thinking how soft her skin was. I remember thinking that I could lay with my cheek against her thigh forever, if she’d let me. It was pure comfort, and I felt safe. At some point, I made my way to my bed and woke with worry about what had happened. Not only could it ruin my living situation but we’d become real friends, and I didn’t have many in California yet. But I needn’t have worried. She gave me a hug that morning, we laughed about rolling around together, I asked some questions about her sexual preferences, and then everything went back to normal. We just decided, and it was so. I feel so blessed to have had that experience with someone who had many other important things to worry about besides hurt feelings and awkward mornings. I thought all sexual experiences would go that way from then on.
I was wrong, of course.
At some point shortly after my night of soft and gentle thigh revelation, I was invited to a party down the street. This couple was friends with my ex-boyfriend, and we were all still hanging out, drinking and smoking pot, because that’s what was happening then and I was still saying Yes to everything. As the party was winding down, it was just me, another guy, and the couple saying our goodbyes. (Note: the retelling of this story is done so through a drunken, stoned haze, so while its true, the anecdotes may be better or worse than reality.) I remember the boyfriend saying that we should have another round and just chill out together. And then the word orgy came up. Probably as a joke, at first. An uncomfortable moment, putting it out there, waiting to see our responses. And then its a blur. A blur of bodies, nervous laughter, and not a bit of worry that we weren’t being careful. Naiveté at its finest.
Sadly, the 4th wheel couldn’t keep it up, so it was just me and the couple. I do remember thinking that the girlfriend would certainly take issue with the boyfriend having sex with me. That would be a normal response, in my mind. I thought this as he was fucking me, naturally. But then something interesting happened. The girlfriend came over and started kissing me. She pulled me away gently and the two of us spent the rest of the night (or what I can remember) rolling around. I remember thinking that what had transpired before, with the guys, felt violent and forced – not rape-y, more calculated. But she was soft and supple, like the experience I’d had with the thigh. Different, though, as she was tall and thin with perfect C cup breasts. I felt the same inside, a warm sense of safety and comfort. The two of us spent a few more days and nights together over the next month. Sometimes the boyfriend watched but occasionally, we would just go to the beach and braid each other’s hair. Eventually, they decided to move, which was perfect timing for me, as I was about to embark on a weekend road trip to Colorado. That vacation turned into a month long cross country trip with a woman I barely knew when I left, and who spent a good amount of time between my legs by the time we hit Kentucky. But that’s a story for another post.