Sandt Litchfield Guest Contributor
Here is a brief flash of a memory, as one of the funniest moments, though at the time it might not have appeared funny.
I was 13 years old in 1972. I was camping out in Vermont in a large field of 3-foot grass, with my best friend Eddy who was 14, my brother Tim who was 12, and my best friend‘s sister Michelle, who was also 13. We all had rode our bicycles down into the field at about 10 p.m.
Since it was already late, we laid the sleeping bags down in the grass and went to sleep. Michelle and I were near each other. And as nature would have it, about 20 minutes later, after we heard our brothers snoring, we started fondling each other and making out. I had never done that kind of thing before. A virgin I guess you would call it.
After touching and rubbing and making out, I eased my way in. Wow. What a feeling! She had guided me into her by gently, but decisively, pressing her thumbnails into my hipbones.
All of the sudden we had to stop. We saw a flash of headlights. It was a car full of drunk kids driving around in the tall grass every which way. At that moment, I realized that all four of us could be killed very easily as we were not visible from a driver‘s point of view.
I pulled myself away from Michelle, though “hard” as that was. I so wanted more than anything to stay right there and finish what I started. Instead I stood myself and my bicycle up, in my birthday suit, so that they could notice me. Not sure what their thoughts were, but after about a minute, the car drove away from the field. I stood in amazement at what I knew to be my first sexual encounter … and one of the closest times I’ve come to dying.
I think the whole experience lasted only about a half hour, culminating in what seemed to me to be one of the best things in life: sex, and one of the worst things: possible death.