Summer Of ’68


It was the summer of 1968. I was a lowly private in the Army, stationed on the East coast and going to a training facility, learning how to tear tanks apart and put them back together.

It was all a strange new world for me, as I, like untold thousands of other recruits, had never been far from home before. But I vowed to make the best of it, and was busy exploring this new world when off-duty. I would get a pass -or on weekends, perhaps a two-day pass- and go hunting for… what else?! Beer and pussy.

So it happens, one weekend, I stepped into a bar, ordered a beer, and waited for the girls to show up. Only they never did. Hmpf! But a gent strolled up, sat on the stool next to me and offered a beer. “Thank you,” I said. We chatted for a few, and he asked me what was up. I said I was trolling for women, and was wondering where to go. He said he knew a couple of places, did I want to go with him. Sure, why not. So off we went bar-hopping. It must have been a national day of mourning, because everywhere we went, there was nothing. No girls, no music. nothing mecidiyeköy escort but beer.

Well, by now, it was nearing curfew, and I had to get back on base, or wait till morning. He offered me a bunk at his house, and since I was a little on the other side of blotto, I accepted. When we got there, he told me that he had only one bed, would I mind sharing? Innocently, I said OK, no problem. I climbed into bed and was out almost immediately. He came a little later, I guess, because sometime during the night, I woke up and felt a body spooning up behind me, and doing the old rub-a-dub on my backside.

Now here’s the strange part.

(Sidebar here: I have known, since I was a wee young’un, that I was different. When my sister and I played ‘house’ under the front porch swing, we fought over who was the ‘mommy’. As I approached puberty, I would sneak peeks at her as she undressed; I would go into her dresser and wear her undies, stuffing her training bra with sox, wear her skirts. I wished I had her body and not mine. But in the ’50’s vip escort istanbul and 60’s, young boys didn’t do that sort of thing. So, life sucked, but I managed. Now, on with the show.)

I responded in like manner! I wanted it. And I let him know it. Quick as a flash, my tighty-whiteys were gone, and this man-flesh was trying to find a way into my body, and I was trying to help it. Turn this way, turn that way, move this leg… nothing seemed to work. Finally, he just flips me onto my back, hoists my legs up and bends me double, and… WHAT!?!? is that? He was hard, lubed, and on the mark. But the target was much smaller than the projectile. That didn’t matter to him, he just barged right in and broke my cherry. Obliterated it. By driving his locomotive into my backside. It took him about 4 minutes to unload, and then it took me about 20 minutes to settle down enough to go back to sleep. Hurting, but not angry.

I don’t know how much later it was, but I awoke to another foray into my nether region. And the tactics were pretty much the same, sarıyer escort and the results, likewise. Once again I was his cum-bucket, but I was not upset about it, other than wishing it didn’t hurt so damn bad. I even tried to be helpful, turning this way, then that, lifting a leg… he didn’t have so much trouble finding the target this time even tho it still it felt like a phone pole. I figured that he was actually not so large after all. More like small, but hard, but still lacked any finesse, just poke it in, fuck it, and roll over for a nap. The third time was not the charm either, although it was better. I was beginning to figure out how to make this work, and gave more direction, telling him to slow down, move over here, try this… you get the idea. My newly christened ass-pussy was sore as hell, but I began to understand why, for all those years, I felt different, felt drawn to the feminine side. He had his way with me for this third and last time, and I could see how it might be very nice, if it weren’t for the pain.

In the morning, he dropped me off at the gate, and my life went back to the routine. I never went back to that bar, never saw him again, and it would be years before I tried it again. By then, I knew how to make it work right, and it did, and it was wonderful. But that is another chapter, for another day.

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