The Best Erotic Stories.

Brandon's Adventures: The 60's
Chapter 1
by IndianAsian

It's early 1994 and they're selling tickets for a "Woodstock Plus 25 Years" concert! How depressing! Why bother -- you can't go back. They should have let it go with that brilliant cola commercial about the twenty-five-year Woodstock reunion, with the valet parking and the bald babyboomers. But, on one dazzling Saturday afternoon, looking out over the beach and ocean, nursing my Sam Adams, listening to an ad for tickets, it sure brought back the memories...

It was the Sixties, man.

The radio was playing Otis Redding and Motown, James Brown and Simon and Garfunkel, The Beatles, the Stones, the Who, and Buffalo Springfield -- and it's never sounded as good since. You had to be 21 to vote or legally drink, but at 18 they wanted to draft your ass off to Viet Nam. Things were changing. Maybe we didn't see it, or want to see it, and maybe I was still wearing button-down shirts, but all hell was about to break loose.

I was 18 and a smart-assed freshman at an all-male, Catholic college in a big Eastern city and full of myself. Life was simple and fun, and I had it by the balls and knew it.

A bunch of us were day-hopping (commuting) to school and had been together since then nuns abused us in Grade school. Our college, being small and conservative and Catholic put us a few years behind what was going on in the Ivy League and at the California universities. We were aware of the issues -- the war (BAD!), Civil Rights (Good!), Improving the Environment (Very good!) -- but we didn't lend much more than our moral support. Our personal issues were still getting drunk and getting laid -- in either order, and preferably at the same time.

There were a few tightly-knit groups of hairy, strangely- dressed guys beginning to appear on campus, talking about peace, pollution and politics, and smoking some "tea;" but our group was still into the clean-shaven, button-down oxfords, khakis, and beefroll loafers look, talking about broads, beer, basketball and booze. We were oh-so-cool (or so we thought).

I lived at home, but, to tell you the truth, I don't remember seeing much of my family during those years. I played football and basketball in high school, but wasn't good enough for a scholarship, so four afternoons a week, I went straight from school to work (and I worked all day on Saturdays). Then on the weekends I went OUT -- coming home, usually drunk -- long after everyone else was asleep. I had a car, a job, a college loan, and money in my pockets. As I said, life was good.

It was early April and a bunch of us were sitting around a table in the cafeteria, bullshitting about everything from teachers to cars to girls. When it was time for the next class, everyone left but Mike O'Donnel and me.

"Brandon, you goin' to Vince's party?"

Vince Capreto was an old high school friend. He was a year behind us because his father pulled him out of our Catholic high school and put him in a ritzy Prep school, hoping Vince would get into an Ivy League college. All Vince wanted to get into was a bottle of Scotch and a girl's panties. But he was the youngest in a big family, so we could drink and dance the night away in his basement; and, as long as we didn't set the house on fire, his parents were cool about it -- they said they had seen it all with Vince's older brothers and sisters.

"Sure, I'm going. You?"

"Yeah, sure. Who you bringing?"

I had to think about that. Not dating anybody steady at the moment, there were a few girls I wanted to ask out. "Don't know, yet. You bringing Terri?" Mike had been dating Terri Allen since they had met at a Christmas dance. She was 17 and only a junior in a local public high school, but good-looking enough you didn't care.

"Of course. Hey, if you haven't asked anybody, yet, Terri has a friend."

"Oww, you set me up! I don't need a blind date, Mike. [pregnant pause] What's she look like?"

"I don't know. Haven't met her, yet, but Terri says she's real cute."

"Ha, cute! She have a `nice personality,' too?"

Mike laughed. "No, Terri said she has a GREAT personality!"

"Oh, boy! Even worse. Now I know we're talking about a fuckin' Alpo-eater!"

"No, really, Brandon, I wouldn't shit you. And I don't think Terri would shit me. Terri said that her friend wants to meet a college guy, real bad."

"Real bad, eh? She fuck?"

"If I knew that the answer to that question was `yes,' I'd be dating her myself, Brandon!"

"Even if she was an Alpo-eater!"

"Yeah, even if she was. How about it? Do this favor for me? Terri asked me to set her friend up with a nice guy."

"Nice guy! Not a hung stud? She go to school with Terri?"


"Okay, Mike, I'll do it but I hope Annette isn't at the party." Annette Parker was a girl that was on the periphery of our circle of friends. She always had a sharp, fast tongue and was very quick with the put-downs, but I thought she had a nice face and body and was very sexy, and I had been working up the courage to risk the public humiliation by the crowd and ask her out.

Since he set up the double-date, Mike had driver's-duty and he picked me up in his father's car on Saturday night. It was a big four-door Dodge and had a great backseat. It was a warm night and we drove to Terri's house with the windows down and a Sam and Dave 8-track tape blaring from the dual speakers.

After we knocked on the door, Terri's mother led us into the livingroom to wait for the girls. Standing there in our ties and sweaters (remember, this was still the mid-Sixties!), I could feel the approval oozing out of Terri's parents as they asked us about college.

Finally, we heard the girls coming down the steps.

Both girls were dressed in short (but not mini, yet) skirts, with matching jackets and smooth, white pullovers under the jackets. I knew Terri, so I got my first look at my blind date.

I saw right away that she had great legs and a terrific set of juggs. She was fairly tall, not all that much shorter than my 5'11" -- maybe 5'7" or so. As my eyes roamed upwards, I saw she was cute, not beautiful. A very cute girl. She had short brown hair and large blue eyes. She was wearing make-up and her lips looked great with the red lipstick on them. She looked young, but I thought Terri looked young, too. My eyes drifted back down to her chest -- that was definitely mature.

`Not bad!' was my first thought. And she wanted a date with a college guy, real bad (`and all that entailed,' I leeringly thought to my lecherous self).

Terri introduced us, "Brandon, this is Tammy. Tammy, Brandon."

We looked at each other and actually shook hands! And then she gave me a dazzling white smile.

All right!

The ride to the Vince's house was short and filled with small talk. When we got there, the party was already going; and, since this was Saturday night and most of us brought dates, it was a "make-out" party, as opposed to the Friday variety, drink- till-you-puke-type party. The lights were turned down and the turntable was stacked with Little Anthony, The Platters, and Lee Andrews and the Hearts -- all slow and romantic songs.

Of course with my luck, Annette was there, looking terrific in make-up, highheels, and a tight skirt. I said `hi' to her as I popped a beer and fixed a sloe-gin-and-7-Up for Tammy.

She looked at me and then at Tammy standing a few feet away talking to Terri, and said, "Babysitting your little sister, tonight, Brandon?"

As always, I was busy looking at her face and body and her sarcasm caught me off-guard. I started to reply, but she was already walking away. Shit!

Tammy and I danced a few dances, holding each other tight and by about the third song, we were french-kissing. Then, even before I expected, Tammy was sitting on my lap in a large over- stuffed chair in a dark corner of the basement and we were making-out like crazy.

Every so often, we would come up for air and I would try to be a little cool and ask her about school or her classes, but she would just start kissing me again. Who was I to stop her from what she obviously wanted to do just to have a conversation?

And, God, could she kiss!


Not too firm, not too soft. Not too wet, not too dry. Her mouth moved against mine, her tongue alive and sexy, moving, touching, attacking my mouth and then retreating as my tongue followed. I had NEVER kissed a girl who could kiss like that.

When I tried to be sly, she brushed my hand away from her breasts or back down her thighs to below her knees, but I didn't really care as long as we kept on kissing like that.

We kissed all night.

We kissed until Mike and Terri shook us apart and told us it was time to leave. Terri had a strict midnight curfew and Tammy was spending the night at her house. I knew I wasn't going to get lucky.

On the way home, I asked Tammy for her phone number. I was really curious -- if she kissed like that on a first date, in a house full of strangers -- what kind of sexpot would she be in the backseat of my car at the drive-in? I couldn't wait to find out.

On Monday, sitting in the cafeteria, I took a ribbing about no one seeing me at the party. Mike added his two cents by complaining that I got his old man's upholstery wet after he and Terri had to throw buckets of ice water on us to get us apart. I didn't mind ribbing like that.

On Wednesday night I called Tammy to ask her out for Saturday. She seemed genuinely surprised I called her (which surprised me, a little), but she quickly agreed to a date and got off the phone. It seems that Wednesday night was the night Tammy's older sister's soon-to-be-fiancee called, and no one else in the family was allowed on the phone. What a couple of stiffs they must be, I thought.

Saturday night, dressed in khakis, loafers and my favorite shirt and tie, I met Tammy's parents and older sister, Jamie (an ice-queen, stuck-up snobby bitch, if I ever met one! <but very good looking>). Tammy had told me that her father was a cop and he seemed pleased that I wasn't a Hell's Angel or one of those "hairy-hippie-types." He asked about school, and I told them I was in my first year. And then -- thank God! -- Tammy came prancing down the steps in a cute sweater and skirt, and we made our way towards the door.

Tammy's dad stopped us and said, "I usually say 11 o'clock for Tammy, but she asked me if midnight would be alright, tonight. I guess it will be, young man, but not a minute later."

"Yessir. Thank you, sir."

And we were off to the drive-in.
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