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Drive-In

DRIVE-IN — think of the term — what comes to mind? Movies… or sex? If it’s the latter, it’s probably because of outdoor movie theaters have a secure place in the sexual history of the United States. They are proving grounds, places in which to discover one’s sensual metier.

Drive-ins became sex centers in the Fifties and Sixties out of necessity. Young people did not “live together” in those decades, and you could only go so far in an indoor theater’s balcony. Instead of apartments and college dorms, people lost their virginity in the backs of automobiles. It was cramped and stuffy and uncomfortable, but nobody cared. The smell of car leather and gasoline were like aphrodisiacs. If you were lucky, you could find a safe spot in the local lovers’ lane or on an old abandoned roadway. Drive-ins were your best bet, provided you could park in a deserted section of the lot or were surounded by your friends’ automobiles, because you could always get out of a clinch in a hurry and pretend you were only watching the movie, something you could not do in lovers’ lane. The movies were hardly ever worth looking at, so making love was a much better way to spend the time.

Coming of sexual age in the Sixties, back when drive-ins were at their most popular, I used to go to a place called the Spring Gardens, on the outskirts of town. It was a magical dinosaur with hot dog and popcorn concessions, a tatered, giant-size motion picture screen and room for plenty of convertibles. There were a few older couples and families scattered about on Friday nights, but most of the cars were full of necking teenagers like my girl and myself.

Thinking of Spring Gardens brings back fond memories, because I got my first blowjob there. The girl was an eighteen-year-old stunner names Valerie who had enormous brown eyes, long blonde hair and a figure that made my mouth water. Her sensuous lips turned up in provactive smiles that promised unspoken delights. One night, while we were watchin the second half of the bill, we were kissing and hugging so much I expected to see steam fogging up the windshield.

She had let me put my hands on her large, firm breats and hard, pointy nipples. Squeezing them, I drew her closer and felt her woman flesh melting into my arms and chest. My cock was so big ad so hard I was sure it would rip through the cloth of my pants. Valerie reached down and put a hand on it.

I could feel the pressure of that hand through my jeans, her fingernails scratching up and down. Then a fist grabbed me through the material and held tightly to my penis. My tongue was halfway down Val’s throat and my hands were still feeling her breasts, but, as good as they felt, my attentin was instantly diverted. I mean, there was a hand cuping my balls! I could have come right then and there. What if…? I thought. What if she pulls down my zipper and actually touches my cock with her beautiful, bare fingers? I was trembling at the mere tought of it.

I was a virgin, but Valerie was a lot more experienced. Within moments she had the zipper down and was holding my cock in her hands, pulling on it, watching it grow and grow. Centerfolds and fantasies had never accomplished what Valerie did. She got my cock up to its full potential, making it swell to its largest possible size. Pulling away from me, she bent her head down into my lap, and I moaned.

Expecting only a handjob, I got a whole lot more. The feel of her fingers was replaced by a wet, sensuos mouth kissing the tip of the head. Her tongue snuck out to flick gently across my penis’s opening. A hot charge zipped up and down my body. Valerie’s tongue glided up and down the shaft, brushing seductivly across the bulging, purple vein, and I felt almost dizzy.

Finally her mouth swept wetly over the crest and began pushing its way down, down the length of my penis, enveloping my sex in a moist, living tunnel. I couldn’t breath, only gasp. I needed to come so badly that there was positively an ache in my groin. Val’s soft, scarlet lips were pulling at the pliable flesh of my penis, causing the skin to move in an up-and-down moton. As her head rose and fell in my lap, her tongue continued to flick warmly around and around the bottom of the shaft.

My head was bent back on the top of the headrest. All I could do was sit here, feeling week and ecstatic, letting Val’s expert actions bring me right to the edge. I felt my orgasm rising. There was asudden panic, which I quickly dismissed. I had never come in a car before. Then a large, hot, creamy load was discharged into Valere’s mouth, and she began to suck out and swallow every last drop of semen.

When she was through and my cock was finally empty, Val sat up and smiled, licking her lips. My cock was wet and beginning to feel deliciously cool as the air hit the moisture on the shaft; soon it was dry and back in my pants. Valerie again snuggling my arms, and I held her tight.

So that was a blowjob! And it had been so easy. I had graduated from fondling and kissing to getting blown. I could hardly wait to find out what would happen during next week’s double feature.

If you think there are a lot of sex manuals now, you should have seen the ones published in the Sixties. The difference was that we really needed them then. Most of it we could learn by “doing what comes naturally,” but it helped to have books to tell us that it was normal to want to jerk off. It was in a sex manual that I read about cunnilingus, which up until then had been a subject to kid about with fellows, not something that you were supposed to actually do. But I figured that if a girl could go down on me, I should at least make an effort to return the favor.

One night I was at the Springs Gardens with a girl named Cecily. She was a buxom blonde with hazel eyes, long, long lashes, and hair that fell in vibrant curls to her shoulders. She had sucked my cock on numberous occasions, and had hinted that sooner or later we’d “go all the way.”

“Tonight,” I told her, “I have a surprise in store.” There was just one problem.

The drive-in had hired a security guard, a paunchy old fellow who would occasionally rouse himself enough to walk up and down the rows shining a flashlight into suspicious-looking cars. A few hushed-up pregnancies, ostensibly resulting from nights of passion at the Spring Gardens, plus some pressure from the town council, had forced the management to take precautions to keep the atmosphere as “moral” and family-like as possible.

The Danger element only made it more exciting. People were still fondling, kissing and sucking, but for awhile everythng else was curtailed. When the guard peered into their cars, my pals would just give the geezer a shit-eatin’ grin and go right back to what they were doing. When he was way over by the concessions, taking a coffee break, I told Cecily to get into the backseat with me. She giggled and reached for my zipper, but I stopped her. I gently pushed her down onto her back, straddled her and lifted her dress. Then I pulled down her panties and whistled.

I hadn’t seen a pussy close up except in magazines. I rather liked the aroma, and was anxious to begin. My prick was stiff, sending signals to my mind — fuck her, you fool, fuck her! — but I had promised myself I’d wait awhile. So I shoved my head between her legs and started to kiss her warm, sweet vagina lips. Her clit was swelling and she was emitting a viscous discharge. I braced myself, then began to orally massage the pussy-flesh, tasting the pungent fluid flowing from her cunt. The moment my tongue and lips touched her there, we were both electrified, Cecily by the sensations and I by her response.

Cecily was writhing excitedly, her legs thrashing and her hands pulling on my hair. It was hard to believe that she had serviced lots of guys and none had ever thought of pleasing her. For women, the Sixties were sexually prehistoric. I was nuzzling her pussy, just snuggling up to her cunt and sucking contentedly on her clitoris, while se was soaring into orbit somewhere past Jupiter, quivering under my mouth.

“Oh… my God. My God. Where did you learn that?” I didn’t tell her I was learning it that very minute. My tongue swept up and down and across her lips and clit, I thought the car would shake.

Lapping up her juices, I felt her knees swinging back and forth above my head. She was going crazy. I tickled her clit some more and planted kisses all over her vulva. She cried out in a breathless, orgasmic rush, and I knew I’d succeeded. She was coming like she never had before.

Just as we were sitting up afterward, the security guard shone his light into the backseat. Cecily was smoothing her skirt, and I was rubbing my chin thoughtfully.

“Get in the front seat, you two,” the old man growled. We looked at each other and laughed.

The drive-in was the scene for a lot of summertime romances. That summer my romance with a young lady named Jill had reached the point of no return. We were both too hot for one another to settle for substitues. Blowjobs were means to an end, not ends in themselves anymore. I was anxious to become a man, and Jill was just as eager to turn into a woman. We could think of no one we preferred “growing up” with more than each other.

It was a very hot weekend in July. Jill had never looked more beautiful: suntanned, blue eyed, her light brown hair brushed back becomingly from her small, pretty face. Her figure in a bathing suit was petite but curvaceous, with two rounded mounds up front that gave her a voluptuous cast. Her legs were perfectly shaped, and her waist was small. Her breasts were large in proportion to her body. During many movies of which I had no memory, I’d explored the length and breadth of them time and time again; my hands and mouth knew their shape by heart.

The security guard had been fired. All around us in open-topped convertibles, kids were steamily embracing, their faces mashing together in osculatory bliss. I kissed Jill and held her closer. We were parked at the edge of the lot, near the forest. It was late, the sky was dark and the giant figures of now obscure movie actors loomed above us. I knew from the look in Jill’s eyes that the time had come. We were both excited and breathing hard.

She climbed into the backseat as I raised the hood of the convertible. All across the lot I could see convertible tops going up. There was a cool breeze in the air, and this was the perfect night to make love.

I stripped quickly in the backseat. Jill was already naked. We hung our clothes up over the windows to discourage peeping toms. Jill stretched out full-length, oblivious to what slight discomfort there was.

“Now,” she whispered, “I want you now.” She held out her arms to me. In my dreams I had done this a hundred million times, but there was nothing that could compare to the reality. I moved over her body, stopping to kiss and touch a thigh here, a breast there, planting my lips gently on her ears and neck and eyelids. She reached up to envelop me in her arms. Her mouth touched my neck and shoulders, nibbling on my chest.

She reached below my body and held my penis. She took measure of it, sighting. My tongue pushed its way between her lips, and we turned our heads this way and that as we tasted one another and let the yearnings grow inside us. Neither of us could hold back any longer. I lowered myself carefully atop her and let instinct take over. My penis found the aperture, already moistening, and eased its way inside. Jill gasped from the sudden alien quality of the thing inside her. She smiled. I kissed her again.

My penis slid in smoothly, up to the hilt. When I was fully inside her, I bagan rythmic movements. Her cunt was tight and wet and warm. She cried out in pain once, her nailes raking my back. Had I punctured her hymen already?

Jills legs were up and around my backside, rubbing frantically against my flesh. I tried for as long as possible to keep thrusting at a slow, steady clip, but something deep inside me made me want to go faster and harder. Jill’s head kept flipping from side to side, and she was sweating rivers. I was soaked to the bone myself, burning with an insatialbe fever that had only one cure.

My penis was a huge, throbbing organism that seemed somehow to have a separate identity. I felt as if it were in control, carrying the rest of body helplessly along on its journey toward satisfaction. My careful plans for over-whelming my woman with my sensual expertise were all but forgotten. I only knew that I had to get off, had to spew my sperm into her quivering cunt before I went out of my mind. Jill was huffing and puffing, crying out, urging me to drive into her as hard and quickly as I could.

My cock thrust back and forth with merciless abandon, driving down deep into Jill’s pussy. There were tears on her cheeks, but her eyes twinkled with obvious pleasure. Our bodies were grinding togehter, and my prick was like a fleshly steel conduit about to burst from too much pressure. And then I felt a spurting explosion inside me, as if the wet tissue of her cunt had adheared to the jism in my cock and just pulled it out with a sudden draining wrench. I was shivering uncontrollably. Jill was crying out, grasping my back with kneading fingers. Her womanly juices gushed out of her cunt, and she began to tremble and moan excitedly.

Jill, it turned out, had not been a virgin; but I didn’t care. For a long while after, whenever and wherever I made love, I could almost smell the car upholstery and imagine huge, voiceless figures hovering in the sky far above me.

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