Coming Of Age: Second Base

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Growing up in an ultra-conservative home, I led a pretty sheltered life. My dad gave me the “birds and the bees” talk when I was a sophomore in high school. Let’s just say…it didn’t go very well. To say the talk was awkward would be an understatement. There was nowhere for me to hide. I just wanted it to be over. Even though I wasn’t super experienced yet with girls, I knew that his version of sex was out of touch, to say the least. Besides, I had already learned way more from hanging out with my high school buddies in the locker room and on sleepovers than from my dad’s feeble attempt at Sex Ed.During my adolescence, baseball metaphors were commonly used to describe how far you went with your girlfriend. Thanks to several years on the diamond and my friend Sam Malone, this analogy was totally relatable. No, I didn’t have a real friend named Sam Malone…I’m talking about the fictional character of Thursday night Primetime Comedy fame. My favorite sitcom in the late eighties and early nineties was Cheers, starring Ted Danson as playboy Sam Malone, a former Boston Red Sox relief pitcher turned bar owner of the local watering hole “where everybody knows your name.”Before using baseball references as terms for sexual exploration we absolutely must clarify the bases. It really is necessary, for the sake of humankind as we know it. This clarification is unfortunately a higher priority than most people realize as evidenced by successive generations seeming to increasingly screw up what these bases actually mean. Thanks only in part to characters like Howard Wolowitz from The Big Bang Theory declaring that he “got to eighth base,” which, according to him, was “seventh base with his shirt off.” Yikes! Thanks, but no thanks, Howard. Baseball Sex Ed. 101: First base has, and always will be: kissing. End of story. The kissing might get pretty heated and include lots of tongue. It may even involve necking and hickies but make no mistake, the use of the lips above the shoulders is first base. Once you round first for second base, things start getting less definitive but still maintain one basic boundary line: above the waist. Generally, second base means that the guy is touching the girl’s breasts in one of three likely scenarios: on top of the shirt, under the shirt on top of the bra, or the full safe slide into second base…under the bra with skin-on-skin contact. All three ways to touch the boobies are still essentially considered as achieving second base.Major League home run legend Hank Aaron once said, “The triple is the most exciting play in baseball.” In sexual terms, this is also where things get much more exciting. The sexual reference to third base has slight variations that have minor-league and major-league implications that cross the aforementioned boundary line.If you’re playing in the “minor leagues” then third base refers to below the waist touching on top of clothes, and maybe somewhat under the clothes…but overall it’s still just touching with the hands below the waist. Any of this touching can include ass, dick, balls, pussy, pubes, plus any of the adjacent erogenous zones. If you’re playing in the “major leagues” however, then third base is mainly referring to oral sex, plain and simple.A home run, similar to the first base analogy, has one and only one reference: penetrative sex using sexual organs. Sure, we could break it down further to differentiate vaginal versus anal penetration, but it’s not that complicated really.Now that we have literally covered the bases of Baseball Sex Ed. 101 our sexual analogy class is over for the day. So, let’s get back to my cumming-of-age story.As a sixteen-year-old guy, I had been to first base several times with make-out sessions often getting pretty hot and heavy. Spin the Bottle was a popular party game in my day, which allowed for many private trips to another room or closet to spend a few minutes making out with a random girl. Fun times indeed.I had a few trips to second base on top of the clothes with various girlfriends, which unfortunately left me “stranded on base” and having to keep my bat and balls in the equipment shed, so to speak. These “left-on-base” situations inevitably meant that I would be finishing batting practice later that night in my bedroom working on my one-handed batting stance…solo. Getting to second base those handfuls of times was fun nonetheless.I have always been and will always be a “boob guy,” meaning that I love boobs as my first point of physical attraction. As much as I love boobs and always will, I wanted more than anything to get around the bases to home plate. After all, like most warm-blooded sixteen-year-old guys I had one thing and one thing only on my hormonal brain, albeit my lower brain, and that was: pussy. Sorry if that sounds crass, but as the home plate Sex hikayeleri umpire often says, “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”Life in the eighties was pretty cut and dry. We didn’t have smartphones or smart cars. We didn’t have Alexa or Siri. It was a simpler time really. We didn’t have to worry about much back then, especially in our small town. As long as we made it home before mom put dinner on the table, we were golden…otherwise, we were probably going to bed hungry.The eighties however was a tough decade for the average high school student. That decade is known for some of its classic coming-of-age movies, mostly thanks to the great John Hughes. Not everything was exactly like what you see in a John Hughes movie, but, now that I think about it, those movies weren’t too far from the truth either. The main difference between John Hughes’ movies and real life was that the nerdy guy never really got to have the hot girl at the end of the story. In that era, at least in my small town, there were really no teen subcultures of countless varieties like there are nowadays where you can be anything you want and “everyone is special” in their own way. As a side note, I think that these classic eighties movies did play a significant role in redefining those social boundaries in teen culture.For the most part in the eighties, you were either cool or a nerd. By today’s standards, I was somewhere in the middle, not really fitting in with either crowd. Even though I was a two-sport athlete (always junior varsity and never varsity), by the standards of the day that put me in the nerd group by the simple fact that I wasn’t cool enough to be considered, well…cool. Also stymieing my social status was the fact that I had moved to town when I was in second grade and hadn’t been born there.On the flip side though, I wasn’t dorky enough to fit in with the nerd crowd either. I had my share of dorky moments though which, again, destined me to be on the outside of the cool crowd. My main contributing dork factor was that I was also in the band. No, not a rock band but rather the marching band. In the eighties, being in the band was definitely considered to be not cool. More to come on that part of my life in a moment. Not being in the cool crowd didn’t really bother me too much most of the time. One thing I had learned from all of those awesome eighties John Hughes movies was that life wasn’t like the movies. Seeing his version of reality made me a realist in many ways…at least in my little world. I was fine with my place in that world. I wasn’t at the top of the food chain, but I wasn’t a bottom feeder either. And truthfully, I liked who I was and didn’t feel much pressure to be someone else just to fit in. I was for the most part comfortable in my own skin.Being somewhat self-aware meant that I knew my realistic odds for landing a girlfriend of “Hollywood ending” status. Looking back now, it was by sheer fate that I ever met Angie.Angie was way out of my league. Similar to me though, she wasn’t in the ultra-cool crowd and was definitely NOT in the nerd crowd. She was way too smokin’ hot to be a nerd. Angie’s parents were divorced, which was still kind of a cultural taboo back then. She lived with her mom, stepdad, and her brother in a trailer park on the outskirts of town. None of this bothered me in the slightest. But in our lame small town, if you weren’t raised in a wealthy neighborhood then you already had two strikes against you for your coolness factor. Angie’s coolness (and hotness) factor was attributed to her participation in the school dance/spirit squad. She had a perfect dancer’s body: toned, petite, and with just the right curves that showed off all her best assets. She had barely an ounce of body fat on her. Her tits we a perfect B-cup that barely broke the curve of her flat chest. Most guys liked girls with bigger breasts, but I have always loved girls with smaller boobs. Angie was dynamite in a small package. While I considered myself to be self-aware, Angie was so much more than that. Angie oozed sexual confidence. She was sexy and she walked tall knowing it. Don’t get me wrong, she was not in the least bit stuck up. She merely flaunted the body she had because she was proud of it. I would sometimes get distracted during football practices because Angie and the rest of the dance team were on the other side of the practice fields working out while we were running after-school drills. The ease with which I was distracted was probably also why I was on JV and not the varsity squad. But those girls in their skimpy dance outfits made it, umm, hard to practice passing routes. It was characteristic of small-town schools that many students participated in multiple extracurricular activities like sports, the arts, service clubs, and other Sikiş hikayeleri organizations. Small-town life meant there were fewer students to spread around to all the available organizations. I had a wide variety of interests, which meant that I also was involved in many different groups…including the social outcasts of the marching band.The marching band practiced in the mornings during first period. And on Friday gamedays, the spirit squad would practice their halftime routine with the band during first period. Fridays were my favorite days.I loved Friday night football, even though I wasn’t on the field with the team but in the stands with the band cheering on the varsity guys. The main reason I loved Fridays, however, was because I played trumpet which meant that I was on the first row of the halftime routine…which meant that I had a perfect view of Angie’s tight, perky ass which was barely covered by her tight dance outfit. I won’t lie, there were many halftime shows that I marched off the field with a semi- or full boner because I spent too much time watching Angie dance instead of watching the drum major conduct. Damn. I still get hard thinking about her perky little body gyrating in front of me.During the week of our first district football game, Angie busted me watching her dance during Friday’s final run-through. The first time she caught me watching, I quickly averted my eyes and told myself that she didn’t notice. But several seconds later when I glanced back at her she winked at me and smiled.Wait…what???I sheepishly looked around to see if she might have been winking at someone else. But everyone around me was otherwise occupied with other things. Just to be sure, I gave her a quick head nod and grin…you know, the type that says, “Hey girl.” She grinned back and gave a tiny playful finger wave.I couldn’t believe it. Was she flirting with me? A couple more times that morning during practice there was no doubt that she noticed I was checking her out. I was giddy with anticipation and felt a slight stir in my groin.Right before the bell rang to go to second period, she was bending over to do some cool-down stretches as the spirit squad was finishing up the session. As she bent over, reaching for her outstretched toes, she glanced back straight at me. I was so entranced by her beauty that I didn’t even flinch. Fortunately, when she saw me looking goat her I was looking at her face and not her ass.Whew. That was close. I just stared at her. Not in a creepy way, but in a way that pondered the beauty that was before my eyes. She was certainly the whole package. And deep down in hormone central, there was no doubt that my lust for her was in the zone. My trance was broken by her question, “Like what you see?”As I shook myself back to reality, I replied with only a slight stutter, “Very much, I do, yes.” Angie was quick to fire right back with, “Well there’s enough of me to share. Soooo, I guess I could share some of me with you.”I could hardly believe my ears. Was she offering herself to me? Surely, I was mistaken. As rehearsal finished up and we made our way back into the band hall, Angie came up beside me and asked if I would walk her to class. Of course, I quickly agreed. A few minutes later we were strolling the hallways side-by-side toward the science hall. As we walked, Angie let me know that she had also been watching me for several weeks. She thought I was cute and hoped I would ask her to the homecoming dance. I wasted no time and asked her right there on the spot. She kindly accepted her playfully manipulated prompt.Before she stepped into the doorway of her biology classroom, I asked her if she had plans for after tonight’s game. She said she was hoping to hang out with this really cute trumpet player that was checking her out at band practice earlier. I smiled, only slightly embarrassed, and said that I could probably convince that cute trumpet player to ask her out if she was indeed interested. She giggled as she turned to go into her class. She squeezed my hand and winked as she walked away and out of sight.Later that day at lunch, I grabbed my food from the vending machines and made my way through the maze of cafeteria tables. I soon noticed that Angie was sitting with several of her spirit squad friends. As I passed by her table, I realized that there was an open seat next to her. She motioned for me to come and sit. I gladly plopped down next to her.As soon as my butt hit the plastic seat I was keenly aware that every eye at the table was focused on me. The circle of teen girls was breathless with excitement. To be honest, I was a little intimidated at that moment of group attention. But I quickly returned my gaze toward my sexy crush. She tried not to smile but was unable to control her undeniable Erotik hikaye attraction.Only a few hours earlier I had been just an average guy with my closest dating prospect being my right hand. But now, I was sitting at a table full of girls where I was the center of attention. But I didn’t care about the circle of friends, I wanted to dive headfirst into the deep end of this beautiful brunette babe.I looked at Angie and asked if she minded if we went someplace a little more private. She never broke her lock with my eyes and said, “I’m all yours.” She coyly agreed with a clever innuendo.We grabbed our food and books and made our way toward the courtyard. I opened the cafeteria door as a gentleman should do and I let her walk in front of me. And of course, I also wanted another opportunity to check out her sweet, perky ass. There was one open picnic table near the alumni fountain, so we rushed over to grab it before anyone else.I can’t remember what I ate that day. I can’t remember everything we talked about during lunch. But I can remember feeling like I had met my dream girl. I can remember thinking to myself, “Wow, this girl is too good to be true.” She was definitely too good for me…yet somehow she was just right for me.Maybe it was a tinge of insecurity, or maybe it was curiosity that prompted me to ask. “Angie, can I ask you a question?” I said.“You just did,” she quipped. “But, yes. You may.”“You’re gorgeous,” I blurted enthusiastically, “Like way prettier than the other girls at our school.” She grinned and lightly bit her lower lip. Then she said, “But that’s not a question.”“Sorry,” I stammered, “I mean…why me? Why…you…why are you, you know…interested in…in me?”Angie didn’t hesitate for even a second. She replied, “I know what I like when I see it. And if you must know, I think you have sexy legs.”“Huh?” I wondered out loud. “What do you mean?”“Well,” she blushed, “I’ve been watching you at football practice, and I’ve even come to some of your JV football games to watch you play. I couldn’t help but notice that your legs are, well, really sexy.”I had never really thought about it before but I guess it made sense. As an athlete, I was a wide receiver and an outfielder. I loved hiking and camping and other outdoor activities. I was also a lifeguard at the city pool during the summer. All of these activities led to my legs being well-toned and tanned.While I had never considered myself or any part of my body to be “sexy” as she put it, I had trained very hard in my workouts and hobbies to keep my legs in good shape. My calves were chiseled because I needed to be on top of my game. I was in better than average shape and she had noticed…more than noticed, actually…she was interested.“Thanks,” I said to her, “I think you’re pretty sexy too.” With a coy little smirk, she came back at me asking, “So what do you think is my best feature?” Her question had a tone of curiosity and confidence. She wasn’t being overtly daring, but I’m sure she wanted to test my response.In my mind, I knew that I lusted and fantasized about her perky, tiny tits. But I knew in that moment of early introductions it wouldn’t be polite to say that to her…yet. So I went with the more obvious answer, given what had happened at band rehearsal that morning. Her cute little ass was an easy number two in my mind, so that’s what I said to her, “I really like your cute little butt.”With another flirty smirk she said, “Mmhmm, I thought you were looking at my ass today in practice.”She paused slightly to watch for my reaction. I may have blushed a little bit. I know I felt my face get warmer instantly.So that I wouldn’t suffer too much, she chimed in by saying, “My mom says I have a doodlebug butt.” “Huh?” I almost spit out a sip of Dr. Pepper as she mentioned her mom’s thoughts about her ass.“Yeah, mom says that my butt is wound up tight and round like one of those little doodlebugs…you know the roly-poly ones.”We laughed out loud together at the silly comparison.“What?” I said in playful disbelief, “No way, lemme see.”Angie stuck her round tush out to the side and I was offered a free peek at her cute little butt cheek in her Jordache jeans. All I could think at that moment was, “Damn what I wouldn’t give to get in those jeans.”Over the next few weeks we started officially dating, making out, and cruising together up and down the strip in my dad’s Toyota Camry…not the coolest car for a guy my age, but it got me around town. On several occasions, while cruising through town, Angie and I get bored and decided to go find a secluded spot to make out.Everyone in high school knew a handful of locations that were ideal for these types of private activities for couples. When we would go parking on Saturday nights, we would usually start by looking at the stars through the windshield and talking about our families and life in our small town. After some time the conversation would turn more sexual and we would share the latest gossip of who was having sex and who was cheating behind their lover’s back…typical high school drama.

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