Diary of a Bobbie Soxer

The real skinny on sleeping late, swimming and sunning, fighting with girls, and "fooling around" with older boys... all summer long....

(mf, f)

By: Punchinello for Pulp Erotica

St. Augustine, Florida, 1954

Letting Bobby feel me up wasn't the smartest thing. He was telling his friends the next day. I didn't know about it until the afternoon, when Jeannie came over. I was still in my nightie at noon, but she was already in a halter and shorts and said she'd been swimming!

She said Bobby had told some other boys that he'd got a hand up my shirt and copped a feel and maybe more. I didn't tell Jeannie that I'd let him kiss me. If she'd asked me, I'd have said, "Of course," like it was natural to neck with a boy before he starts in petting, but I didn't always before.

One time, I went to a drive-in with girlfriends and ended up in a boy's car and let him almost take my shirt off without ever kissing me. He went from talking to me and having his arm around me to getting my brassiere pushed up. And he started feeling both boobs and making me sweat, I was so hot, but we never even thought about necking.

I saw Bobby that night at the beach house. They had a party there for anyone who wanted to come, with a campfire and music, and you could by a hotdog and a Coke for a 20 cents. Bobby tried to talk to me, but I snubbed him, and Jeannie told him to go soak his head because she knew what he'd been saying. In fact, he was probably telling the other boys that he'd gotten into my pants, which was a big fat lie. I was still a virgin and never even let a boy touch me down there, even tho I showed it to Larry Dunley by the railroad tracks that time at camp when he was staring at me when I was wearing a two-piece and I felt like being shocking.

Anyway, at the party, John Hardy asked me if I wanted to go swimming down the beach on the other side of the dock. I knew he meant skinny-dipping because nobody had swimsuits at the party, so I said no. He said we didn't have to swim, we could just wade in the water, so then I said yes, which was dumb because I should have known that he would still try to get me to go skinny-dipping, which he did. I mean he tried, anyway.

While we were walking, he took my hand, which was nice, and we were walking way, far away from the party, where no one was. I wondered if he had heard what Bobby was saying and was hoping to cop a feel too, but he didn't say anything. Instead he said Jeannie was acting weird and tried to keep him away from me, but he had been wanting to talk to me for a while. We talked about Jeannie and about Bet Sisovaris, who got arrested for some reason nobody knew about but everybody thought was really criminal, like a burglary or something.

Then he kissed me for a little while, which was nice. And I let him roam his hands all over, but not go up my shirt, which he tried to do from the back. I really like it when a fellow runs his hands up my bare back under my shirt—unless he tries to undo my bra. But that night I wasn't wearing one, and I didn't want him to know it if he couldn't tell already.

He was kissing my neck then, and kind of cupping my bottom in his hands. I really liked feeling his muscles on his back, and I couldn't stop myself from pulling his shirt up and running my hands under it to feel his bare skin. I was getting really turned on and didn't know what to do with myself! His breath was warm and sexy on my skin, and I really just want him to tear off my clothes and do it to me right there in the sand!

It took everything I had to push him away and tell him I had to go. There was a weird moment like he didn't know what to say, and I didn't know what to say. And I was just about to get up and run back to the party as fast as I could, but instead I pulled his shirt off!

I can't even believe I did it now, but he sat there in the sandy grass at the edge of the beach, with his chest bare and I kissed him again and started feeling his chest, which was all muscle and made me just gooey inside. He asked me if I was going to go back to the party, and I said I didn't know, and he whispered, "Can I take off your shirt?"

Like a dunce, I just said, "I won't go skinny-dipping." And that was it—he pulled my shirt over my head so fast it made my head spin, and he tossed it to one side just out of reach, so I couldn't just grab it again. I couldn't help but laugh and cover up my bare boobs, but he started in French kissing me again, and I just melted.

Pow! I was lying in the grass with no shirt on and John Hardy feeling and kissing my breasts! I just about trembled with fright, but I was so keyed up I hardly thought about getting caught. I was just worried about losing it and maybe getting pregnant too!

I said, "No pants. Nothing below the waist," which was like a rule we girls made up, but it didn't help much. John was making me shiver all over with every touch, and I wanted to get into his pants almost as bad as he wanted into mine! I guess I was lucky he wasn't a complete sex fiend, because "No pants. Nothing below the waist," could mean I wanted him to take all clothes off! Just like "I won't go skinny-dipping," seemed to mean "Yes, please, take off my shirt in a hurry!"

I could just hear the music from the party still and some voices carrying over, laughing especially, and John was all over kissing me and pressing against me. I could feel his hard pecker in his shorts by then, and it was rubbing against my thighs. That was all right, I figured, and I let him go at it, dry-humping me and kissing my neck.

I don't know how much boys like dry-humping, but it wasn't much fun for me. Then I spread my legs, and let him get on top of me, really pushing on me, and that did me in. It made my little box as wet as can be and absolutely soaked my panties and probably my shorts too. I gasped and groaned and begged him, "Don't tell anyone about this, please." I knew my reputation would be a perfect wreck if he started bragging that he got even farther than Bobby Hunsecker did!

He was grunting and huffing and said, "I won't. I won't, I promise." And then he just starting doing it to me like we were making love for real. I just laid back and let him hump me, and in a way, I wished I had worn a skirt that night so I could have just lifted it and he could hump against my panties. But God knows what that might have led to....

When he finally spent himself and got his release, he collapsed on me, I relaxed and kind of pushed him off. I got my shirt back and held it against my boobs, but he just laid back and sort of caressed my hand. He had a big wet spot on the front of his shorts, and I told him he better go in the water like he was swimming so no one would notice. I put my shirt on again and watched him wade out in the water bare-chested.

I didn't know if I wanted John to take my virginity, but I really liked the way he was nice to me the whole time, and I thought I could trust him not to spread it around about me, like I was a tramp.

Then I saw that my shorts had a small wet spot to, and I went down to the water. He took me in his arms, and we started necking in the water, waist deep for me and a little less for him. I said, "My shirt is getting wet," and he said I should take it off again, but I knew there would no little virgin coming back from the beach that night if I did!

"Maybe next time," I teased him, and then I got out of the water. We hung around on the beach, away from the party for a while longer, just holding hands, until our shorts dried out enough that it wouldn't be obvious that we'd been in the water (since it was so dark). Then I went and found Jeannie and sat by the fire for a while until it got late.

I didn't tell Jeannie that I'd been necking and heavy petting with John... but then I didn't ask her how she got a grass stain on her white shorts, either!

That night, I went to bed without anything on. I just slipped between the sheets in the raw and spread my legs, and thought about John Hardy and his warm, strong, tan chest and back and hard pecker just begging to get out of his pants.... And I played with myself until my head went woozy and I could hardly see straight!

I knew I wanted to see John again, and probably Bobby too, if he would promise not to blab. And by the end of the summer, I figured, sooner or later I was going to lose my cherry. The only question was when and who with. I wondered if Jeannie had lost it—or if Bet Sisovaris had.

And then I fell asleep, still in the nude and very, very contented. I had all summer to decide on who and how and when.