In Bed with My Girlfriend's Boyfriend

Rock Island, March 1976

When I entered tenth grade at Rocky High (age 14-15), boy-girl dating was not optional.  It was a requirement.  Every day, parents, friends, preachers, teachers, and coaches asked "What girl do you like?"  It was an endless litany.  "What girl? What girl? What girl?  What girl?"

And on Tuesday night, when you typically made the phone call to request a Saturday-night date, "Who are you going to call? Why haven't you called yet?  Call!  Call!  Call!"

I tried various ways to get out of it.

1. Calling girls who were way out of my league, the cheerleader-cover girl types who laughed in my face and slammed the phone down, then rushed to call their friends to laugh about my audacity.

2. Unrequited love.  Everyone knew that you fell in love only once, and stayed in love for the rest of your life.  If the other person didn't happen to be in love with you, you were screwed. No matter where you went or who you met for the next sixty years, you would never fall in love again.

3. Lame activities.  Nazarenes weren't allowed movies, dances, fairs, festivals, or rock music anyway, so Nazarene boys usually asked girls out to dinner, or to sports matches.  I went even lower: a chess tournament, a poetry reading, a classical music concert. Faced with those prospects, even girls in my league would give me the "just friends" speech while holding out for something better.


"How about Nazarene girls?" my brother asked.  "They won't mind lame dates.  You could even ask them to church."

"Out of the question," I said.

"Why?  What's wrong with them?"

The real reason was:  after  I rejected the blatant sexual advance of church royalty Debbie at summer camp, she and her cronies -- all of the regulars -- made a big show of whispering "fag!" and running away when I came within 100 yards of them.  But I couldn't tell him that, so I said "We grew up together.  They're like sisters."

"What about a new girl, someone who just joined the church?"

"Sure -- if any show up."  Although our goal in life was reputedly to save souls, new converts were rare. We got about a dozen per year, barely enough to make up for the drop-outs. I couldn't remember the last teenager.

But fate was against me.  In January of my sophomore year, a new girl named Becky came to church with a friend and got saved at the altar call.   

I don't remember what she looked like.  Who cares?  The pressure was on. My brother, my friends, my parents all started pushing me at her.  "Go on -- don't be shy!"  "Don't be a dweeb!"  "Ask her out!"

I resisted for a long time.  She was nearly two years older than me -- a massive age difference in high school!  And she lived in Green Rock, about 20 miles away.  How was I supposed to get there to pick her up?  Ask Dad to drive me?

It didn't matter.  "The Lord has provided!  Don't be a dweeb!  Ask her out!  Ask her!  Ask her!"

So one Tuesday in March I called and asked her to a jump quiz competition Saturday night.  She was going anyway, so we would meet at the church, sit together, and go out for ice cream afterwards.

To my consternation, she agreed.  But over ice cream sundaes, she said "I should let you know that this can't go anywhere.  We can't go steady or get married."

My jaw dropped.  Dating was a means of finding a marital partner, but no one admitted it so blatantly. "Why not?"

"I'm already in love with someone else.  Do you want to see his picture?"

Yes, every guy wants to see the picture of his date's boyfriend!

Scott was a fresh-faced teenager, thin, bushy-haired, grinning at the camera.  He seemed pleasant enough.

"Why aren't you with him?" I asked.  "Is it unrequited?"

"Oh, no, Scott's in love with me, too," Becky said quickly.  "It's just that he's not a Christian, so we can't date anymore.  Be not unequally yoked with unbelievers."

"Couldn't you like, um, win his soul?"

"I tried, but he's not interested. He thinks the Bible is just a book of fairy tales. He doesn't go to church at all.  He hasn't admitted it, but I think he might even be an...atheist!"

"Wow! An atheist!"  I exclaimed, barely able to conceal my excitement.  I had never met an atheist before, but I heard all about them in Sunday school and soulwinning class.  Atheists had no morals, so they did whatever they wanted: grew their hair long, went to movies, smoked pot...gulp...had sex.

I imagined Scott naked, aroused, his enormous cock pushing up against his flat belly, smiling, inviting...to get or give a b.j.

Focus!  I told myself.  You're at Country Style, eating a sundae, on a date with a girl....

"Atheists are definitely a challenge," I continued. "The standard soulwinning oepnings don't work with them, and they don't respond to quotes from the Bible.  But I learned a few tricks.  How about if you introduce us?  I'll have him on his knees in no time."

On his knees....to get or give a bj....

"Wow, that would be great!" Becky said.  "It's so sweet of you to do this."  She leaned over and tried to kiss me on the cheek, but I backed away

The meeting was in a dorm room at St. Ambrose College in Davenport -- Becky forgot to mention that her boyfriend was two years older, a college freshman -- and a Roman Catholic.

Catholic and atheist --  Double the evil!  I couldn't wait!

To my disappointment, the room looked perfectly normal.  So did Scott.  He shook my hand warmly and hugged Becky.  She refused a kiss.

She took the desk chair, and Scott sat on the bed.  I didn't want to squeeze in next to him, so I sat on the floor, my arm draped across the mattress, a few inches from his legs.

You weren't supposed to engage atheists in intellectual debate, but I couldn't resist a few Biblical-inerrancy zingers, like Where did Cain get his wife?  (Obviously he married his sister).

When I handed Scott my Bible to show him the passage, our hands touched. I began to feel flushed.

"Becky, would you mind waiting down in the Student Union?"  I asked.  "I want to  talk to Scott privately."

When she left, I looked up at Scott and said, in my most dramatic voice, "You think that if there's no God, you're free, you can do what you want, but you're wrong.  There are still rules.  You have to get a job, you have to get married and have kids.  None of us are free.  Not even Christians.  What do you think I'd like to be doing right now?"

I reached out and gently stroked his knee.

He spread his legs  I could see that he bulged to the left. The room was very hot, and very quiet.  Time was standing still.

I reached out and touched his bulge. Scott smiled and pressed my hand down.  I unzipped and pulled out his cock -- 7", thick, uncut -- and went down on him.  He moaned softly.  His cockhead rammed against my throat, gagging me.  Then we were lying on the bed, naked, bodies pressed together, cocks pressed together, kissing, his tongue darting into....

Was this atheist-Catholic mind control?

I moved my hand away.

"Then what good is it to be a Christian?" Scott asked.  "It just leads to more things you can't do.  No movies, no dancing.  No sex."

I was supposed to say something like "You feel indescribable joy all the time," or at least "You won't go to hell when you die," but instead I said "None of us are free.  Let's go find Becky."

Nothing happened between me and Scott.  Nothing except fantasy.  But I continued to "date" his girlfriend, to the back-slapping praise and adoration of my parents, brother, friends, preacher, Sunday School teacher....

None of us are free.