By Fran Scott
That summer between graduation and college, I was young and restless: almost a man.
Practicing with the band during the day, I spent those nights at the drive-in with a girl who held my hand, accepted my kisses, and even enjoyed my feeble attempts at feeling her up. Although, she still made me wait until we were married to get to third base.
Years later, and I still have that old electric guitar I bought at the Five-and-Dime. Sometimes, I play it, and I think of her, and those nights.
I smile at the memory of my first real sex dream.
A “…real six dream.” That sounds very promising. Negates the trouble of finding a real-life-and-awakening partner. Come to think of it–that wouldn’t be too enjoyable. Of course this story is more of a nostalgia trip, and a fine one it is, too.
haha, nice play on the common mishearing of Bryan Adams’ song! like it, very much!