Meebo, do you post this stuff just to get a reaction or is it true? I'd like to believe the former, but everything tells me its the latter. The art of making out is probably about lost in today's world, but I imagine there are still a few practioners around. There is nothing quite like it and, I hesitate to say this, for me, sex was anticlimactic.

Gawd......I hate being this old. The 60's may have changed many of the customs, but those of us who were there then know it didn't happen overnight. We were the offspring of reasonably straight parents and had grown up with Ozzie and Harriet sleeping in twin beds after Ricky came home from the malt shop. For a lot of us, the early sexual conquests were far more closely allied to the 40's and 50's then with the changing world we lived in. Do you remember? Wasn't it great?

Making out..........whether it was in the den, the woods, or a car, it was always something special. Guys went into it with a game plan. There was a certain progression to be followed and if you strayed outside the lines you were either a jerk or a tramp. Holding hands, that tentative arm around her shoulders.....did she move a little closer? Then you lightly stroked an arm, gave a gentle squeeze. If you got this far on a first date, well that was about right. If it had gone well, you stood at the door and waited making idle little chit chat and looking into each other's eyes. A slight touching of the hands led to an embrace and as you pulled your head back, your eyes met and both of you agreed to the kiss.

Maybe the next time was a dance. The hand holding and such was a bit freer now and those slow dances led to the next phase. At first your bodies didn't touch, but as the evening went on the separation slowly disappeared. You could feel another human being who had a body different from your own and you slowly explored the softness and the curves. If it was a formal dance though, the girl seemed to be more assembled than dressed and you could feel the ridges and hooks and fasteners that seemed to bind her in an iron grip. Yet even that was wonderful and mysterious. The evening ended hopefully with another kiss and embrace, longer this time with some stroking. What a night!

Then there was the car. It didn't have to be a car, but it often was. Everywhere had a place to "park." Maybe you went to dinner or a movie or a football game first, but you ended up out there watching the submarine races. This had to be by mutual consent and it was rarely verbal. It was the guy's lead, but the girl had to agree. Maybe she turned on the radio and asked a question. It wasn't much, but you knew. You repeated all that had come before with more time and passion. The first French kiss was a special moment since you knew that perhaps tonight you would go further yet, stroking her breasts, a hand on the knee. The next time you were there, maybe your hand could explore the wonders inside her blouse and you could brush your hand over the clasp on her bra a few times. Was she willing? Did she lean back against the seat or did she open her back to you? When the moment came, most of us fumbled with those stupid clasps, no piece of male clothing having anything like it. Did she reach around to help? Wow, you really knew then didn't you?

A few dates later you had become comfortable and had begun to stroke her legs and run your hand over those lovely soft curves. Now it was time to try for the big move, her panties. Skirts were wonderful things to the average male although panty hose left something to be desired. With a skirt you could slowly work your way up and down her legs probing a bit more with each stroke until you touched that smooth, silky fabric so alien to the male child. Cotton undrewear could really slow you down a bit at this point. It didn't really matter though, you had reached that which was both most wonderful and most mysterious. You stroked your hand over the fabric and later allowed your fingers slide under the legbands a bit. NOW was the moment of all great truth. It required the girl to understand a move that I believe they must have to practice since its subtlety is so complete. No man in the world can remove a seated girl's panties without her making a slight lifting and twisting movement. Without it, you were stopped.....or a rapist. That movement was a tacit agreement to go on to the next step, not sex yet, just the next step along the path.

Ya' know, breakin' up may be hard to do, but fallin' in love was great. I think of all the times when I went through this in my teenage years and I wonder what it is that you wait for Meebo? There are so many wonderful people out there to be with and so much affection to be shared. "Ms. Right" didn't show up til I was 36 and the whole groping thing changes as an adult to some degree, more open, more honest perhaps. I would never have traded those years before though when everything was exciting and new. It will never be like that again.

Spaw