Don't Drop Anchor Here (Part II) - Sex Stories

Don't Drop Anchor Here (Part II)

... house they still had black and white. In the kitchen Ronnie handed Rob another beer. He didn’t know if he should actually drink another one. He’d snuck beer before, of course, from his dad, but still it didn’t seem right. He was only eighteen after all. Ronnie was so nonchalant about it that he acquiesced. The uncertain young man took the beer while his hostess pulled the Swanson’s TV dinners out of the freezer. Ronnie then took the TV Guide from Rob’s hand and flipped through the pages. Again he smelled her perfume and felt his knees almost buckle. “Oh look just like I thought. See? Look here. ‘Love American Style’ is on later.” The two of them both wanted the same thing. But her marriage and his youth meant they danced around the desire like cautious fencers afraid to strike. The desire to make love was like a ghost in the room. The both knew it was there, yet they couldn’t see it and they were both afraid to acknowledge its existence. Rob licked his lips nervously as he gazed at the vision in yellow prattling away in front of him. They were together in Ronnie’s kitchen. She acted like being together like this was the most natural thing in the world? Half of him wanted to run away home to his Playboy magazines and keep masturbating. The other half wanted to walk over and kiss her and stick his tongue down her throat. The aroused young man was conflicted to say the least. They were both talking again casually. Rob sipped his beer. Thoughts of Vietnam slipped back and were ...

... clouding his thoughts. His call up was so soon. Ronnie lifted her pale-blue eyes to meet his warm brown gaze. She looked Rob in the eyes with a concerned look. As a sensitive woman Ronnie suspected something was bothering the young man. But what she wondered? Ronnie didn’t know why, but her instincts as a woman told her that Rob was keeping something bottled-up inside. Maybe he was just shy, but the more experienced woman was curious to know if it was more than that. She probed carefully. “You seem nervous Rob. Is something bothering you? Do I make you nervous?” The troubled young draftee hadn’t intended for it to burst out like it did. But once he started talking he couldn’t stop. Rob had needed someone to talk to and he felt so comfortable with Ronnie that the words just burst forth like a flood of water breaking out of a dam. “I’ve been drafted.” Rob admitted nervously and turned his eyes downwards. The admission felt like declaring you had some terminal disease. It was almost like saying you had cancer. His voice was soft and nervous. The young would-be wooer didn’t want the woman he lusted for and fantasized about to see how scared and vulnerable he was. Men in 1970 were instructed to be “macho” and fear was not macho. “They’ve called me up so……” His halting nervous words faded with his uncertainty of what to say. The impending ominous threat of everything the word “Vietnam” conjured up hung in the air like the sharp blade of a guillotine about to drop. “Oh my dear….” ...