Although the incident took place over 50 years ago, I remember the details as if were yesterday. It will be forever carved on the walls of memory. It was the early 70’s. Although I doubt there was an American high school student that hadn’t heard Janice Joplin bellow out, “Down on Me”, my last boyfriend was derelict in that department of art. Oh, he had caressed me there with his hand and entered me with his fingers and even penis, but his tongue never made it past my navel; therefore, in the words of my best friend, Alexandria, I was a “Joplin Virgin”.Although it was not the reason or at least the main reason that we broke up, we nevertheless did.

At seventeen years old, there was plenty of fish in the sea, and like one of the songs of the era. “You better shop around.”I started dating a new boy named Gary, who like my previous boyfriend was cute, played sports, was a good student, a good dancer, and popular but was there ever a difference? Gary was certainly not derelict in cunnilingus. In fact, I couldn’t keep his face out of it but I am getting ahead of myself.I lost my “Joplin Virginity” the summer after my senior year. I turned seventeen during the second semester of my junior year.We were in a local drive-in on a hot summer evening. An evening that was going to get even hotter, in fact, it was going to sizzle like a Texas barbeque.We were making out and he had talked me out of my bra. I didn’t need much persuasion. At that age, I was prouder of my boobs than I was of being a majorette, an honor student, or my new car. I can still remember the scent of his classy lime aftershave. He sucked on my breasts and moved on down to my navel. Now this is where Jim had always stopped and moved back up to my breasts after a few moments and used his finger to send me. Remember the song, "You Send Me"? Well, I was about to be sent. Gary moved further down my body until his mouth was directly over my Mons Venus, which was about to get as wet as a Tropical Rain Forest, but I still had my white shorts on and he made no move to take them down. I could hear or sense him breathing in through his nostrils. My first thought was, is he trying to smell it? (Honestly, I thought it.) Strange what thoughts you have at such times when you are young and inexperienced. Then he exhaled through my mouth, I could feel his warm breath on my well… everything, I guess. He repeated it with a long exhale, and I began to squirm. I couldn’t believe how provocative and stimulating it felt. I certainly didn’t want him to quit so I reacted with a soft moan and began rubbing my fingers through his hair. I wanted to scream. Take my pants down! Take my freaking pants down! Soon he got the message, and I felt his hands fumbling with the button and zipper on the side of my shorts as he continued to blow on my center. Well, I don’t know if it was the geometric center of my anatomy but it certainly was of my world at that moment. Gary wasn’t done with his little surprises; he just removed my shorts but not my panties. My previous boyfriend never made any layer distinction. When one came down, the other one did too. He continued to blow on my ever-increasing center. I squirmed, moaned, and rubbed my hands in his hair thinking take them down. Take them down! Take my freaking pants down! He continued to tease me with his hot breath. I’m thinking to myself. Is he going to tease me to death? He’s driving me out of my mind. After what seemed like hours, but I am sure only minutes if that, I felt his hand in the elastic of my panties and down then came. I felt the cool air on my Mons Venus and the leather seat on my bottom. I felt liberated. Soon I felt his warm, moist tongue on and in my lower lips. I thought I was going to die. My God this is even better than I had expected. I pulled at his hair and even his ears. My mind was racing with myriad thoughts. I hope that I am clean. Of course, you are silly. You took a shower right before you left home. When I had a hold of his ears, I thought of the old joke. How do French women hold their liquor? By the ears. I almost laughed. God, I hope I don’t pass gas. I’ve always had weird thoughts at monumental moments, yet I’ve usually remained cool during moments of pressure or excitement. Hemingway called it “grace under pressure” but I assure you that I didn’t have my mind on the famous words that he penned but I was going to personify his words. I knew where I wanted him, so I went to work. I maneuvered the pelvic area down while moving his mouth up a little by pulling up on his ears until I had his tongue on the strategic spot. With his mouth on my clit, I finally broke my silence and almost screamed. “There, there, suck there! That’s it!” He needed a little encouragement and began to suck like a hungry infant. “Ground she is moving under me. Tidal waves out on the sea!” Mount Venus is about to erupt! Bam! Wham! I tried to conceal my scream as I climaxed. I didn’t.

When he entered me with his condom-clad penis, it had never felt so good. It was “Express Way to My Heart!”. I’m never going to let you out. Give it to me! Give it to me good!When we were recovering and dressing, I looked around in horror, knowing that I had been damn noisy. I’ve never been the quiet type at such moments and knew that I was more vociferous tonight. Fortunately, it was a weeknight and there weren’t that many cars in the drive-in, and no one was close.