That was a great first date. I picked her up in my Rambler American, and off we drove for some dance hall/bar somewhere, and on the way I pulled out the half gallon jug of cheap wine I had with me and asked her if she was one of those girls who objected to drinking while driving. And when she took the bottle and had a swig, I knew we were going to get along fine. So we went dancing (and drinking) - dancing was where I took most of my first dates in those days, and it generally seemed to work out pretty well - which means I got a lot of action out of it. So at the end of the evening, we ended up at her place, and when she put her hand on my thigh I figured it was a go. And it was, and after some rolling in the hay (her brass four poster bed), we crashed. And in the morning, we awoke, and went at it again. And at some point, we got up and began to get dressed. And when we were both almost completely dressed, my body said "one more time," so I tore off my clothes and then tore off her clothes, and climbed on for another go round. And we were both having fun, and our parts were meshing as before, when she reached over her head, pulled a razor sharp commando knife from a sheath she had hidden at the head of her mattress, and held it so the point was just above my right kidney. .....