1977: I was living the perfect life. I was attending a small state university in northern California. Although I was attracted to men, I had never slept with one. I had barely even slept with a girl, and I seemed to have no problem doing that. In my heart of hearts, I knew I was NOT gay—all the gays I knew of at my university were effeminate, usually part of the college theatre group or in other arts. I was taking art classes too, but was also studying photojournalism, playing college sports and was president of the university ski club. I was attracted to “real “ men—athletic alpha males, “gay” men held little interest for me and I had nothing in common with them. Perhaps, I thought, I could be pansexual. That sounded cool and not really “gay.” Again, I reminded myself, I was sleeping with girls.
In the late fall of that year, I had managed to land a job as a cook in the cafeteria at Alpine Meadows, a ski resort on the north shore of Lake Tahoe for the winter semester. I scheduled all my classes on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, which left my weekends wide open.
It was a two-hour drive from school to Tahoe every Thursday night. As an employee of the resort, I could ski for free all day Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday mornings for an hour or so before the mountain opened to the public at 10am and before I went to work. Then, I could take a few runs down the mountain on Monday morning before the drive home to study and be ready for classes on Tuesday morning. I had managed to score a girlfriend in Tahoe on my first weekend there, so rather than stay at my university’s ski cabin, I moved into her condo rent-free. Things couldn’t have been better.
One of her roommates, Scott, was the quintessential ski bum with sun-bleached blonde hair, a buff lanky body and a dialog that included the word “dude” in every other sentence. On one very cold Friday night, while I was hanging out in front of the fireplace at the condo with Scott, waiting for Barbara to arrive for the weekend, we got a call from Shelley, one of Barbara’s friends, The battery in her car wouldn’t start and she wondered if we could come give her car a jump. Scott and I hopped into his pick-up truck and headed over to meet her. After a few fruitless attempts to start her engine, we gave up and called a tow trunk. The car was then hauled off to a garage to be fixed. Frozen from the whole event, we decided to stop off for a few drinks and some food at a nearby tavern.
A couple of stiff drinks later and we all started to warm up. Shelley was tipsy and started flirting, brushing her hand across my leg, while also grabbing at Scott. At one point, Scott headed off to the bathroom and Shelley turned to me and planted a big kiss on my lips. I was slightly turned on, but more shocked. I had never had a girl come onto me so aggressively. She planted another deep kiss between my lips and whispered into my ear, as she gently tongued it, “You know, I‘ve always wanted to do a threesome with two guys…” Then she pulled away and smiled. I was dumbfounded, but I was also turned on at the thought of it. Not so much about sleeping with her, but about being naked and doing it with Scott. A couple minutes later, Scott was back at the bar. Shelley winked and went off to the bathroom.
“Scott! I, I…” I hesitated. “You won’t believe what just happened. Shelley wants to get it on with us. Both of us together! At the same time!” Scott’s eyes grew wide and then his face erupted with a big devious smile.
We exchanged a few awkward lines until Shelley returned and then ordered another round of drinks. Shelley proceeded to stroke each of our thighs, and, over the course of our drink, took turns making out with each of us.
We were all getting so horny and trying to figure out what to do about it. Barbara was due home sometime that evening, so we couldn’t go back to the condo. Shelley had a roommate so that would be awkward. Hotel room, too expensive. The back of the pick-up was too cold. The front of the pick-up with stick shift was way too awkward…we were running out of options.
We finally settled on going back to the condo and taking a chance that Barbara wouldn’t show up until much later. I was so excited. I was going to be doing it with another guy. “This isn’t gay” I thought to myself. “There’s a girl involved!” This was going to be one hot evening!
Unfortunately, when we got back to the condo, Barbara was already there. I felt like my mother had shown up. But, after another couple of drinks, we had coerced Barbara into the idea, and the four of us headed into the bedroom for a heated foursome.
Clothes flew off in the dark as I made out with Barbara and Scott kissed Shelley. I was trembling with excitement, as I listened to Scott and Shelly making out and moaning. We were standing next to each other naked, but were too scared to reach over and touch each other. Barbara and I moved onto one of the two beds in the room, while Scott and Shelley jumped on the other. “Fuck! Now what do I do?” I thought. If I tried to move over to the other bed, would Barbara be upset? Would Scott think I was gay? Scott was soon going at it with Shelley. I could hear the moaning and kissing and could just make out the outline of Scott’s butt going up and down. It was a total turn-on and soon I was banging Barbara, my head turned slightly towards the other bed, more interested in what was happening over there than in what was going on in my own bed.
After it was over, we all fell asleep. The next morning there was no talk of what we had done, while in my head I fantasized about what might have happened—not so much about having sex with Shelley, but with Scott.
Shelley never hit us both up again for a three-way romp. Scott and I went back to being skiing and drinking buddies, and I tucked my desires away. But, my perfect life now seemed a lot less perfect.