So that’s how the rest of my summer played out… ½ bailed on the group… citing “relationship differences”… in other words, she was pissed at my choice… and 4 and 5 (as the best friends that they were… and more importantly, with 4 as the pushover, low self esteem, devoutly loyal friend that she was)… they continued to spend the summer with me finding ways in which we could avoid adult oversight and explore our friendship… with me and 5 occasionally sneaking the opportunity to explore each other… in a low risk, low penetration, “christian” sort of way… of course.
5’s mom HATED me. It didn’t matter that I was a good little christian boy. I think it was the purple hair more than anything. I hadn’t even given her any real reason to hate me… at least not yet… that didn’t happen until about 2 years later when I stopped by 5's place on the way to my girlfiend 4’s after work… when 5 answered her mother’s phone call… while straddling me, bleeding all over my stomach… and her bed… as her forever-lost hymen bled… and I looked up at her and said… “ask your mom how she likes me now.”
But like I said… that was all much later.
In the meantime, we kept close to 4… she was the only one of us with a drivers license and a vehicle… 5 lived about 30 minutes from where I was staying that summer, and we needed transportation… 4 kept close to us, begrudgingly the chauffeur... because secretly, she was still in love… and I was loving every second of it.
Problem with 5 was that she was so closed emotionally and hid herself behind all that sarcasm… always… as much as I loved that angst, as the insecure mama’s boy that I was, I needed the vulnerable moments to show me I was actually loved… I wanted to not have to work at it all the time... as 75 would put it... I was (am?) a sponge... and I needed someone to run me under their tap pretty often...
So as the summer came to end, 5 and I did what every fleeting summer couple does… we promised it wouldn’t subside… we promised to visit often… we promised to make it work… over the 300 mile divide.
I probably waited 2 days (if that) after returning home to call up 1 and go roll around in her waterbed listening to dark side of the moon… it was at most another week later that 1 called me as my dad was leaving to go into town for the afternoon… I invited her to my place that time…
she hurried over, and we proceeded to flirt and tease as 15 year olds do…
it was a good 5 minutes before I started finding excuses to put jelly beans in her belly button, then her lap, her shirt… and another 5 minutes before we were dry humping on my “USA sleep team” flag-styled comforter on my twin bed… my pet iguana Spike and gold leaf monogrammed “Students Bible: New American Standard Version” watching every move… 5 minutes later when the clothes had come off… and, shaking in excitement and fear, 5 seconds and 5 strokes later before I sheepishly pulled out and came on 1’s stomach… leaving half of my too-easily acquired first-prize inside her in my failed effort to last 4 seconds and 4 strokes longer than I really had…
Great… good showing… and now I hafta tell 5.
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