Woodstock Gave Me You
By J.D. Walker
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2016 J.D. Walker
ISBN 9781634860895
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
NOTE: This ebook was previously published by Amber Quill Press.
* * * *
This story is for those of us who wish we’d been at Woodstock in 1969. Rock on!
* * * *
Woodstock Gave Me You
By J.D. Walker
Friday, August 15, 1969
“Did you see the tits on that chick, man? What a fox!” Burt Crispin was as crude as he was loud.
“Everyone can see them,” I retorted. We’d just arrived at the Woodstock Festival in Bethel, and I was irritated because it was hot and muggy, and my companion was a big dope.
“What’s your beef, Lare? All I’m sayin’ is, I’m gonna be makin’ it without even tryin’!” He rubbed his hands together and smirked. “It’s all about free love, right?”
My name was Laramie, actually, but Burt was clueless, and all he talked about was sex. “My dick’s been hard since we got here,” he continued, and to punctuate that statement, he grabbed his crotch and squeezed.
Burt walked faster now, his eyes focused on the naked butt of the voluptuous blond he’d been ogling. Soon, he disappeared from view.
Sighing loudly, I shook my head at the state of things. While I definitely wanted to be where history was in the making, Burt had not been my first choice as a traveling cohort.
I’d been in a tight spot, and he was the only ride I’d been able to find on short notice after my friend Sergio, a guy I worked with, had backed out at the last minute. He said he’d heard some negative stuff about the event on the radio and didn’t want to get caught up in weird shit. Coward.
Forced to check bulletin boards and ask around, I’d ended up with Burt. No matter what, I would find another way home. Life was way too short to be spent in the company of someone with whom I had absolutely nothing in common.
Despite it all, I was still happy to be here. It was the one place in time where I could experience thousands of people together focused on peace, love, and music. Everywhere I turned, there were smiling faces and people hugging each other, some in various states of undress. The sheer number of bodies around me was staggering. Humans practically replaced the grass and weeds as ground cover.
I carried a bedroll with me, around which I’d wrapped a blanket I could sit on. Also, I had a backpack filled with a few items of clothing and other necessities, and a little container with sandwiches and water that I hoped would last me for the entire event.
As I searched for a spot that wasn’t already taken—or covered in mud from the recent rains—I thought briefly of the family I’d left behind years ago. They would never have approved of something like this, and I never regretted my decision to leave home when I did.
* * * *
My dad was a mechanic and my mom had become a part-time secretary after I entered high school. Money had always been tight. I had three older brothers, two of whom went to Nam and died there. My parents had been consumed by grief when they’d received the news of their deaths. Rodney and Bud—twins—had been the golden boys in the family, expected to do great things.
Rafe, the third son, married Maude, the girl he’d knocked up at twenty. They’d already had four kids, with another on the way when I left. They always argued with each other.
I, on the other hand, was the throw away, the runt in the bunch. It didn’t help that I was as small and slender as my mother, nothing like the tall, strapping boys that resembled my father. I heard the word “fey”—and worse—a lot as I grew up.
My parents didn’t know what to do with me. I realized just how different I was when I fell in love with my next door neighbor’s son, Rudy, when I was twelve. It was all one-sided, and a very confusing time for me. None of the neighborhood boys wanted to play with me, afraid of being called the same sort of names I constantly endured.
When I turned eighteen and received the draft notice, I reluctantly went to join up. But I knew I’d never last a day in the army, so I said I was homosexual. The recruiter sniggered and growled, “We don’t need no fucking limp wrists in this man’s army, anyway.” I endured the snickers and name-calling as I left, but secretly, I’d been relieved.
Rather than live with my parents’ disappointment and not so subtle disgust any longer, I moved out and made my way to Greenwich Village in New York. It was a place I’d heard whispered about, and it sounded perfect to me.
I ended up with a job at an underground paper. It was also where I met Sergio Venotti. He was the first openly homosexual person I’d ever encountered. We became roommates for a time, and he introduced me to the joys of sex with another man.
Sadly, we were only meant to be friends, as Sergio liked to put the make on any man who was willing. I got over it, eventually. I found my own living quarters, and was much happier. Life in the Village was eye-opening, liberating, and I thrived.
When I heard about the music festival, it was right after the Stonewall riots. I felt the need for some peace and love instead of the hate, violence, and air of distrust that had settled in the Village since June.
* * * *
After working my way through the ever-expanding crowd, I finally found a spot that wasn’t too dirty, or covered with people making out. The stage was a fair distance away, but not so far that I couldn’t at least make out people setting up for the first performance of the afternoon. I smiled and nodded to the folks to my right as I spread out my blanket. My bedroll would act as a pillow for now, and the show was about to start.
“Hey, neighbor. I’m Sullivan Conyers,” a gritty voice said on the other side of me.
I turned to look at its owner. He was an average-looking man, if you were comparing him to Rock Hudson. But movie stars aside, I thought he was enough of a looker to merit a second glance, with his long brown hair falling in waves around his shoulders and in his face, and hazel eyes begging me to join in the fun. He had a dimpled chin like Kirk Douglas, who I’d thought was magnificent in Spartacus.
I shook the hand he held out to me. “Nice to meet you, Sullivan. I’m Laramie Pruitt.” I sat, positioning my food container and other belongings around me, more than ready to have a good time.
“Are you here by yourself?” he asked, and I glanced at him where he lay propped up on his elbows, bare chest glistening with sweat.
I swallowed and looked away before my eyes could give a hint as to how much I…well. “I caught a ride with
someone headed this way. Once we arrived, he set his sights on a woman—forgive me, the woman’s breasts—and was never to be heard from again.”
Sullivan laughed. “So, what you’re saying is, he came to Bethel to nail all the babes he could, right?” He tucked some hair behind an ear. “It’s the sexual revolution, man. Every chick here’s probably on the pill and practically giving her virginity away.”
I frowned at his words. “Are you saying that women shouldn’t have the freedom to do what they like with their bodies?” I may not want to have sex with them, but that didn’t mean I felt the fairer sex should be treated like baby farms and penis receptacles.
He sobered immediately. “No! I didn’t mean it like that. I think it’s great, and about damn time. It’s just…there are unscrupulous men out there, you know? I have two younger sisters who’re mad for sex, every chance they get. I just don’t want them to get hurt by some Casanova using them for his own ends.”
I could see his point. “Sorry. I get on my high horse sometimes. I believe that we all have the right to be ourselves and experience life as we are, and not be held down by the customs or conservative beliefs of the establishment.” I sighed. “I need to lighten up, don’t I?” I tended to get passionate about people’s rights and had liberal opinions about everything.
Sullivan smiled. “Nothing wrong with being who you are. I dig your passion. It’s groovy.”
He winked at me, and I blushed. “All right, stop embarrassing me. How about you? You here with anybody?”
Shaking his head, Sullivan said, “Nah. Came by myself. Left my buddies behind in San Francisco and thumbed rides all the way here. Most folks were decent. A few tried to scam me, but I handled them.”
I chuckled as he flexed his muscles. “I bet you did.” I focused on the crowd for a moment. “You got a sweetheart back home?” I tried not to think about why I wanted the answer to be no.
“Didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He glanced at me. “You?”
“Same.”
Sullivan stared at me for a few seconds, as if taking my measure. “Solid.”
I didn’t know what to make of his frank appraisal, so I said “Now that we’ve cleared the air, let’s check out the music.”
As one, we both leaned forward, elbows on our knees as we listened to the first performer, Richie Havens.
It didn’t take long before my toes were tapping. I stood along with Sullivan and joined all the other people around me, clapping and swaying. I felt such freedom! It made a nice change from the tension back home.
Yes, times were changing, and there was a lot of conflict in the world. But just for a little while, we could all forget our troubles.
A chick next to me was naked. All she wore were her glasses and a chain of daisies in her hair. She waved her arms above her head, no inhibitions in sight. Smiles wreathed her face and you couldn’t help but grin along with her. I’d smelled a lot of marijuana around me, and she was probably stoned.
In the few hours I’d been here, I’d gotten used to seeing the human body—in all its sizes, colors, and shapes—bare. Some things I’d rather not have seen.
People kept on arriving as night fell. There were thousands upon thousands of men and women around me. It was a veritable sea of humanity. Sullivan and I decided to pool our stuff and shared blankets in order to not to get trampled upon, or lose our belongings.
And then, the rain started.
“Shit!” Sullivan exclaimed and quickly opened up the folded red tarp he’d kept ready for such an occasion. He covered us both, along with our blankets and belongings. Everything—and everyone—was soon soaking wet, unless they had raincoats or some other form of impermeable shelter.
As a result of the downpour, the music stopped for a while until it was safe to start up again. Sullivan and I remained under the tarp, but pushed the edge back just enough so we could see around us as we listened to a performer named Melanie. I loved her voice. My new friend and I shared our food and water, totally content in each other’s company.
* * * *
Saturday, August 16, 1969
By two o’clock the next morning, the music had ended and I was exhausted. My bladder was full, too. “I gotta take a leak and clean up a bit. I’ll be back in a few.” I removed my flip flops and grabbed a small flashlight—we had two between us—my towel, and a bar of soap, then prepared to get out from under the tarp.
“Sure. Oh, here.” Sullivan put all the trash in a paper bag and handed it to me. “Take this stuff with you, all right? I’ll take care of the bedrolls for both of us.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I stood and made my way slowly through the drying mud to my destination, trying not to step on the bodies around me on the ground. Most people were asleep by now. Others were amorous in twos, threes, or more. The smell of weed and cigarettes was strong. I tried not to shine the light in people’s faces as I ambled along. It took me fifteen minutes but I finally disposed of the garbage and took a piss. Man, that felt good!
The facilities were mostly deserted. I washed up a little and cleaned some of the mud off my feet, though that was probably a wasted effort. Forty-five minutes later, I made it back to my spot with Sullivan. Our tarp was easy to spot with the flashlight, especially since it was red and had a white peace sign painted on top of it, like a bull’s eye.
“My turn,” he said, once I sat next to him under the tarp. We’d both decided that we’d keep it over us the rest of the night, in case it started to rain while we slept.
As he stood, what I could see of Sullivan was mighty tempting—that tight, firm chest on display and his muscular arms bare. His cut-off jeans left nothing to the imagination, and mine was working overtime.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks for putting out the bedrolls.” He waved and disappeared in the night, while I snuggled down and tried to get some sleep.
I must have dozed off for a short while, because when I awoke suddenly, it was to the sensation of Sullivan snuggling into his sleeping bag. I watched, half asleep, as he turned onto his side, his back right up against my chest, with only the bag material separating us. Interesting. I was too tired to think about the wonderful body heat he emitted as I fell asleep again.
When I awoke a second time, it was eight o’clock in the morning, and it was hot, as usual. I could see the brightness of the day through a little sliver of space between the tarp and the ground. I heard voices around me as other festival goers started their day.
Sullivan hadn’t moved all night, it appeared, and my dick appreciated how close he was to me. Too much, in fact. Slowly, I turned onto my back and breathed in and out deeply, willing my erection to go down. As easygoing as Sullivan seemed to be, I didn’t want to scare him off with a boner, especially since I didn’t know which way he swung.
And thinking of that wasn’t helping, either!
In an attempt to rid myself of the stiffness of my appendage, I lay there pondering the homely attributes of Eleanor Roosevelt. Sullivan awoke and stretched beside me, and thoughts of the former First Lady flew out of my mind, damn it.
“Morning,” he said, grinning at me as he sat up, tenting the tarp with his head. “Ready to face the day?” Oh bother. He was one of those people. Without awaiting my response, Sullivan pulled the tarp off of us, and I pulled the top layer of my sleeping bag over my head, the better to hide from the sun, and his cheer.
“Are you going ape, man?” I groused from inside my cocoon.
“Aww, come on, Laramie! It’s a beautiful day. Let’s go take a dip in the lake.” He climbed out of his sleeping bag and rummaged inside his backpack for something.
I yawned and sat up. “If we both go,” I countered, “we’ll lose our spot.”
“That’s okay. We’ll find another one. Grab your stuff and let’s get wet!” He was like fuckin’ Pollyanna. Sullivan tied up his bed and folded the tarp while I forced myself to follow suit. My hard-on had disappeared, at least.
Once I gather
ed my things, we headed toward the water after a detour to the portable toilets. We found a spot in the bushes to stash our stuff and then, after drooling—in secret, naturally—while watching Sullivan strip naked, I did the same and jumped into the lake with him. The water was cool and inviting.
Around us, there were people splashing each other and horsing around. Sullivan and I joined in, and it was a blast. Minutes later, after actually washing my body with soap, I got out of the lake and dried myself off with a towel.
“You got a cock on you, don’t ya?” Sullivan said next to me, his voice low. I looked at him, shocked that he would say something like that in public. And who would have thought that he…
“Are you out of your mind?” I hissed at him.
“What? It’s the truth. Sexual revolution, right? If I find a cock sexy, I should be able to say it, yeah?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
“But—” I sputtered as I glanced around me furtively.
He talked over me. “Weren’t you the one who said something about not being held down by the beliefs of the establishment?”
Sullivan had me there. “Well, yes, but—” By this time, he had finished drying off and put on a fresh pair of shorts. He remained shirtless, however, to my delight. I willed my penis not to twitch.
He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You’re queer, aren’t you? A homo?”
I froze. This couldn’t be happening. In what alternate universe had I fallen? It was like something out of Lost in Space. Was this going to get ugly?
Seeing my expression, Sullivan said, “Calm down, buddy. I’m just as queer as you are.” With that bold statement and a twinkle in his eye, he put on his flip-flops, grabbed his stuff, and left me standing there, gaping like a fish.
* * * *
I caught up with him as he staked his claim on a grassy spot that was surprisingly free of mud. It was pretty far from the stage, so far in fact that the people on it were as small as dots. There were fewer people around us here, but before us, the land was covered with humans as far as the eye could see. I didn’t mind that I couldn’t actually see the performers. Hearing the music was enough for me. I had other things on my mind at the moment, however.
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