Here is yet another tale of misfortune and speedy learning curve.
Chris (… first love got most of my first time stuff. Plus, the relationship really did fall into the Comedy of Errors category most of the time. Just sayin’.) and I had only been a couple for a very short time when this particular incident happened. I hadn’t been with very many guys prior to him either. A few, but nothing spectacular or special at all. He was my first relationship. Which means I was far more willing to try new things. Heh. Not always to good effect either.
Let’s see, we were only 19 at the time. We couldn’t do a lot at his house because of his parents. Fundamentalist Christians. I don’t think I need to elaborate much further on them, now do I? The havoc getting caught at his parents’ place would have brought down the city in a holocaust of hellfire. So, we couldn’t do stuff there. My place was a bit awkward too. So, we ended up in my car. Ah, sweet innocent youth. I had a ’78 Cadillac Coup ‘de Ville at the time. Had got it for a hundred bucks and was my first car. The tails that vehicle could tell would make a porn star blush. But I digress.
We had parked in a nice quiet out of the way side street that never had any traffic. It was probably 11pm or so. We got to talking, just enjoying each other’s company and exploring the newness of being together. One thing led to another and we started macking on each other. Whatever else, Chris could take my breath away with his kisses. The boy knew his business and was serious about it. Good kissers are a priceless resource and should be cherished. Anyway, we did that for quite a while.
Well, you can only kiss for so long, especially really good kisses, before things just naturally progressed toward needing to do something with the paws. Paws are good for pawing. Goes well with kissing too. So, we reached the pawing, groping, massaging state of things, accompanied by copious amounts of tongue fighting and other assorted kissing techniques. Yum! It is amazing how long a good kissing session will go. Lost all track of time or reality. By now, the windows were nicely steamed and we are both definitely short on breath.
He makes a suggestion about what the next order of business should be. I kinda don’t want to get too outrageous in the car. I counter with something a lot less conspicuous than something that is going to have the car bouncing on its rims and creating impact craters! He sighs but agrees. Phew! Dude, we are on a semi-public street, in RIVERSIDE! I am just not that willing to get caught in the act in this city. The cops are just plain scarey, and that is when you’re NOT doing anything wrong. So, we decide on just some mutal fondling and massage of the equipment.
It is somehow different when someone else’s hand is touching you than when you self-serve. Just that lil bit more erotic. You don’t have any real control over how it is being done. If you pay enough attention though, you learn what THEY like by how they handle you. His method was firm but also delicate. Slow motion with an occaisional sudden swift once up and back down. God! So, we did that for a bit.
But we also decided it was going to be a little bit of a problem if we did this for a while. Friction burn is not your friend. Mine either. Or his. I had gone to my favorite metaphysical bookstore that day and hadn’t been home yet. In the bag was some essential oil stuff. I made my own bath salts and so I was restocking some basics. The bright idea (re: ignorant!) came to me that, hey, it’s oil, we could use that! I rummaged through it and pulled out the first lil vial that came to hand. Hmmm, almond essential oil. I twist the cap and the scent filled the car. He was game for it and I put some on his palm. Then mine, then recapped the vial.
We went back to our previous endeavors. Ahh, that was nice. Even a lil tingly. And somewhat warming. Wow, you can’t imagine how good that hand felt as it massaged all the important bits and pieces of the equipment. Wait a second, receiving an incoming, marked-urgent bulletin from the nether region. “Fire! We are on fire down here! Cease all activity and call the fire department forthwith!” Holy shit! I yelped! Just about that time, Chris also yelped and started to swear. What the fuck was happening?!? We pulled up and buttoned up with an amazing speed.
I then drove at Mach 3 to my apartment, where we made it upstairs to my front door only hitting the steps twice with our feet. Into my bathroom we went and dropped the pants with a haste usually reserved for fornicating on a busy schedule. On went the tap. Dear gods above, the poor devils were roasting in that oil. Sweat was pouring off of both of us. Cold water did little to nothing, so I took a chance on warm. That helped actually. It took nearly half an hour for us both to regain composure and for the 4 alarm fire on our crotches to fade and finally go. Needless to say, we didn’t feel in the mood any more!
Later, as I was going to dispose of the offending vial, I saw a tiny printed warning: May cause skin irritation if not diluted. No shit!