No not the Zoo variety, the sexual version.  I am fully cognizant that the “art” has been lost in the rush to the bed.  In my youth since we could not avail ourselves in most cases of the mattress we sought the satisfaction that our hands could offer in the absence of the excitement of what copulation would bring.

 

I always heard from my mom and dad that they reserved their consummation for the marital bed. Although my father did admit to ejaculating in the back seat of the car with the help of my mothers right hand. But even those revelations held no solace as I was after the ultimate prize, the peak sensation as only intercourse could avail me of but I often got the simple release of the reliable “hand job” from some of my pubescent lovers.

 

If I can recall the first time it might be better to refresh with the very first time my genitals got involved outside my pants. It was a summer evening as I recall and in a parked car away as far as possible from the streetlight, in the back seat with not one but two 13-year-old girls who were quite curious to see and touch my nether regions, as they were perfectly willing to reciprocate in the viewing and touching of theirs as well. 

 

That turned out to be an episode that I remember on occasion in my life until this day.  I often wonder what would have transpired if they went beyond simply caressing my erection and me giving them their first intercourse of the digital variety, that we affectionately called “getting fingered”.  There never were enough of any preparatory accoutrements like tissues or towels to cleanup afterward because; well that might have seemed too orchestrated and we wanted to make believe that was not what we were after on those warm mid summer nights. 

 

But I am getting ahead of myself here. We were talking about the lost art of petting. As stated there seems to be a rush to the bedroom to copulate but my fondness is necking and petting. What is petting anyway?  I think of it as a layered approach. There is the preliminary “feels” around the shoulder and sides of the back.  In the backseat of a car or in a movie theater, which really revealed how willing my female companion wanted to be “felt up” that is, to have her breasts caressed. I would put my arm around her and as my hand drifted slowly down her arm if she wanted more she would lift her arm to expose the side of her breast. That meant the waters of resistance were parted, and my hand felt the fullness of her budding mammary.  If we were in the back seat of the car the necking provided the entire ardor I needed from her to have a free rein over her topography.  I can remember one female actually taking my hand and placing it on her breast because I was beating around the proverbial bush.  Once however the petting above the blouse was achieved, the flesh was yet to come. In the middle of a long French kiss I would start to unbutton the blouse button by button. I would wait for the first lock to open before proceeding on to the next and next but usually her chest cavity would open signaling me to venture on.  Once that blouse was opened the obligatory feels over the bra were made including a heavier squeeze to take in the complete fullness of her buds.  If she was adventurous she would interrupt our kiss and reach back and unhook so as to unbound them.  A deep sigh from me usually ensued as I lifted the cup and felt her fleshy globes and by the time I arrived at her nipples they were erect and inviting my mouth. 

 

That was getting to third base and when I tried to steal home too soon I usually got tagged out trying to unzip her slacks or if she was wearing a skirt a firm hand mid thigh stopped my travelling hand.  But if her legs parted it was a signal that I go a little slower and give her inner thighs enough flame to proceed up the trellis to her Mons pubis.  I might go back to her breasts to reignite her breathing all the while engaging in the best kiss my French skills could offer.

 

Sometimes I would leave the next stage for another time just to prove I left something on the table and give my young lover time to think about what happened in the heat of our moment.  It was risky but I would rather have complete assent than risk not seeing her again.