RAINCOATS HIDE A MULTITUDE OF SINS -A Story of Life Before Liberation

The most hysterical thing about the Baptist College that I attended was that they wouldn’t let women wear pants or shorts. When we asked why, the Dean of Women said, “Because they divide the legs.” They didn’t plan on the fact that mini skirts were going to come into fashion and I was going to single handedly bring them into vogue at the little backwater we liked to call Jesus Tech. Every morning when I came downstairs, I was greeted by a grim grey haired (and getting greyer each day) housemother. She would make me stop for skirt length appraise.” There doesn’t seem to be enough hem to let out in this one,” she would say, shaking her head and tut-tutting. I would act concerned, tell her I had tried to find one with a hem, but all the time not mentioning that I had personally put the stitches in them myself after cutting them off. Now there are a few things not so great about short skirts. One is sitting on plastic chairs in the heat of summer, and another is, no, actually, that’s the only problem.

Now a lot of girls just wore shorts with a raincoat over the top when they went out for picnics and such, but I was nervous about getting caught at first, which is how I ended up lying in the bluegrass of Elmendorf horse farm with a KA frat boy named “Sunshine”, in a green corduroy skirt that barely covered my ass. We had been out together a few times before and he had paid for the obligatory dinner and movie, and I had backed off from a first date kiss, just like good girls were suppose to. We had shared a pretty hot first kiss on our second date, and made out a bit on our third. Taking me to the frat boy picnic was part of his carefully staged seduction. Blankets were scattered about in front of the only remaining structure at Elmendorf, a set of broad steps that let up to majestic columns, then dropped off to green fields again. The owner had destroyed the house in 1929 rather than pay the taxes that were due. The frat boys identified with his defiance, but did not emulate it. In fact they all shopped at the same stores, drove the same expensive cars, and evidently all bathed in the same bottle of English Leather Cologne. To this day I hate the smell of the stuff.

Sunshine was busy trying to relieve me of my panties, the only barrier he could envision between his bulging jeans and a quick score. I didn’t mind the kissing, which he did with great talent and enthusiasm, tongue deep down my throat and his warm soft lips going for a marathon on my own willing mouth. I guess it was real confusing for him to have my mouth saying, yes, yes, and my hands saying, no, no. I have to give him credit, he was very persistent, but after a half hour with his fingers no closer to his target, he got desperate. I heard the earthquake loud noise of his zipper being pulled down and I jumped up like I had been shot from a cannon. Several of the other couples that had been busily engaged around us turned to see me tugging at my skirt and tucking in my blouse. I realized none of them had been putting out, just engaged in some above the waist groping, but then, they were all wearing those tight little Bermuda shorts. Sunshine had collapsed on the blanket exasperated, because he knew the gig was up. I had humiliated him in front of his crew and I felt a little sorry for him, but not enough to do it in front of the entire fraternity in an open field in broad daylight.

I will say he took it like a man, never berating me for being a tease, and taking me back to the dorm, opening my car door, and walking me back to the front steps like a gentleman. He didn’t call however, and I had let him pass out of my thoughts until a few weeks later when I was doing solitary laps in the indoor pool in the G-town field house. I heard a splash and realized someone had joined me, so I paused at the end of my next lap. His strong overhand brought him to my side a few seconds later. He stopped and said, “Nice suit.” I had on as little as I could get by with at Georgetown, a white two piece with hip hugger bottoms that came down below my belly button, and dipped pretty well in the front too. I had never seen him with his shirt off before, and I found him very impressive. He pulled me in for a kiss, for which I gave only token resistance. With so much skin together, there was no question that I had his attention. I backed away from him at the end of the clinch and started swimming, but when I got to the shallow end he was already there. I slid out of his arms and dived underwater, but when I came up for air, he was there laughing. He took me quite firmly in hand this time and gave me one of those mind-blowing kisses, and I began to melt a bit. Maybe it was because the water had washed off all the heavy cologne, but he smelled much better to me than he had in the green grass. He did a bit of messing around with my boobs, but the top of the suit was pretty tight, so he headed to the small bit of cloth that was covering his real interest, pulling me close to his body. He already knew I was a novice, so he took my hand and put it inside his trunks and guided me briefly through the basics of hand job 101. I came to college to learn, after all. When he saw I had the idea, he slid his hand back inside my suit for a bit more exploration. He came long before I was ready, but he surprised me by staying with the task until it was finished, and bringing me to orgasm, the first one I ever had with someone else’s fingers other than my own.

He called me a few days later, but I had a date and turned him down. Funny thing, I believe he might have been a decent guy if he had pulled away from the pack. I knew that was never going to happen, but I cheered him on at the football games the next year, and he always gave me the smile that earned him his name when we saw each other on campus. I hope he still smiles when he thinks of me, just like I do when thinking of him.