Friday, May 29, 2009

Who Is Jack?

I quickly figured out a few things about Sharon after that first date. Let’s see… she was fun and she liked to fuck. Hold it. Those might be the same thing. Over the next few dates, which always, ALWAYS, ended in a spare bedroom at Mona’s house I learned that she liked to kiss—but only as long as it took to get warmed up for something more. She liked to have her breasts fondled, but only long enough to get her heated up for something more. She seemingly enjoyed it when I fingered her pussy but she didn’t go in for a lot of foreplay.

No, Sharon liked to fuck. Everything else was a distraction from what she really wanted which was to have my cock in her pussy. Oral? She had no problem going down on me but she had no interest in reciprocation. I didn’t take offense—it wasn’t like I had eaten her out and she said, "don’t ever do that again, pal." She just directed me away if I started to head that way and she'd say, “Fuck me baby.” Or words to that effect. And, really, she only sucked my dick to make sure I was hard and ready to fuck her. At least that’s the way I see it now. At the time I wasn’t getting all philosophical about it or sitting, chin in hand, and pondering. After all, I had been minding my own business when she asked me out to the German America Festival. After a couple hours of the public portion of that first date we went to her sister’s best friend’s house. And, what a shock, the lady of the house was out for the evening and, hey, what’s this-- now we’re bangin’ away on the living room floor much to the delight of a neighbor woman watching from her kitchen window. Then it’s off to Mona’s Master Bedroom where we’re back at it for round two. Followed shortly thereafter by bout number three. I hadn’t even met Mona yet and I’m fucking away in her bed with Sharon. First date—three fucks-- it was fucking nuts.

Another thing I figured out was that Sharon always called me “baby.” It was “let’s go out baby”, “let’s leave baby”, “baby, let’s go to Mona’s house”, “put it in me baby”, “fuck me hard baby.” Yes, I was “baby”. Which was cool with me until the night I was bangin’ her like a screen door on a hot summer day* and she called me “Jack.” Which didn’t sound even remotely like “baby” or “Wil.” I had to rethink the whole “baby” thing. Did she call me baby because it was endearing or because she was afraid she’d call me by some other guy’s name? Beats me. I didn’t let it slow me down when she said it. I came in her tight little cunt, and then I said, “Who the fuck is Jack, Sharon?”

It turned out I knew Jack. Well, I didn’t really know him, but I knew of him. He was a starting guard for the nearby college (not where I went and not where Sharon went either)and I had seen him play on TV the prior winter. I actually remembered him because I thought he was a cocky sonovabitch on the floor. One of those guys who whines about every foul call that goes the wrong way. A prick. Plus, I didn’t like the school he played ball for-- so fuck him. Apparently Sharon had done just that. Turns out that for most of the last year Jack and Sharon had been going out. And now they weren’t. And she had nothing good to say about Jack. Boy, she had nothing good to say about Jack.

Now I wasn’t falling in love with Sharon—not by any stretch. But, I was falling in love with how much she liked to fuck, so I wasn’t in a big hurry to have this come to an end. Which means I paid attention to what she said she didn’t like about Jack. And that, dear reader(s), is where I screwed up. I listened to what she said and didn’t bother trying to dig a layer or two deeper. But, don't despair, things didn’t get messed up for a quite a while. No, this was The Summer of Sharon just as surely as the prior year had been The Summer of Jackie.

And, did I tell ya?
Sharon had just one thing on her mind.