Finally, my year was over and it was time for me to leave my Connecticut home at age 19 and go off to college at the University of New Hampshire.
After a tearful goodbye to Mom and Dad (my sister was already off to school in Boston), I drove off in the used car I had bought.
It was late by the time I got all my stuff unpacked at the dorm.
I was a whole day early, so there weren't many other students around. It was after 10 p.m., but I figured the book store would be open until at least 1 a.m., or maybe even 24 hours.
I stuffed most of my shoulder-blade-length blond hair under a cap and drove through the rain to the bookstore, where I was surprised to see that there was only one car in the large parking lot. Perched on a high stool behind the elevated counter reading a magazine was a burly old man, maybe 60 years old with a paunchy stomach, a black and gray moustache and what looked like about a five-day growth of beard. I didn't say anything for a few moments, and he finally looked down at me. "You know," I said while I eased out of my raincoat and looked up at him with my most-innocent, blue-eyed expression, "I've never been in a bookstore like this after it closed." I removed my cap, shook my head, and my thick, straight blond hair cascaded around my bare arms. "There's something I really want to buy -- a dildo? I had my back to him, but I could hear his key turn the deadbolt lock and turned my head to see him flick off all but two dim lights in the store, giving the place an eerie effect. Really not knowing what I might be getting myself into, but I figured that even if he tried anything, I could probably discourage him enough so I could just buy my dildo and leave. He was breathing hard, probably because of his age and girth. "My hands can go completely around your waist and my fingers can touch each other." It was true. First so hard that it took my breath away, then his lips lingered on mine, barely touching them.
He hesitated a second, then resignedly said, "We're closing. -- and I thought maybe you could show me around and help me find it and maybe some other stuff." Oh my goodness, I was flirting! I felt his belly up against the back of my bare midriff, and his huge, rough hands go to my sensitive shoulders. " he asked in an almost-professorial way that temporarily eased my nervousness. "I guess I get turned on when I see the men kiss each other." "Come with me, then," he ordered, taking my hand and leading me to the video arcade. His breath more labored, and he pressed my body against the wall with his. I struggled, but even at his age, he was much too strong for me. Involuntarily, I writhed my trembling body into his thick torso while his hands despoiled my virgin flesh. His giant hands had no trouble going around my tiny waist. I leaned back with my arms raised at either side of my head, partly because his belly was pressing at me, but mostly because it felt feminine to be so helpless. I could feel his rough beard and then his wet tongue and teeth, and my body tingled. The one doing the sucking seemed to really be enjoying himself. Then I caught sight of my man in the mirror as he put a plastic bag on the table. He grabbed my soft, bare shoulders from behind -- how did he know how much that turned me on? Each time, I squealed, but he was like a man possessed.
I thought I might as well check it out and see if it had a dildo, maybe even with batteries that would make it vibrate.
I showered, then dressed in sandals, cut-off shorts and an armless T-shirt cut to go down only to my rib cage. There was a pronounced concave from my thin ribs to my tiny stomach and then to the low-riding shorts on my hips.
I loved it when they would wear something off-the-shoulder or a halter-top. It was my body being caressed, my shoulders and neck being nipped at ... I never could quite imagine what he looked like, but he would be older and stronger than me.
As I approached 19 years old, I hardly had a hair on my body, and those I did have, I shaved.
After a shower, behind the locked bathroom door, I would wear my robe off both shoulders, let my hair cascade over my bare neck and shoulders, and pose for the mirror.
He was very good-looking, but I realized that if I sculpted my body, I could be much better-looking. I couldn't really explain it, but I wanted to be able to attract a man someday, even if I wasn't going to let him touch me.
After I graduated high school, I had several academic scholarship offers, but I decided to take a year off to, I told my parents, earn enough to buy a car.