Friday, September 25, 2009

Sweet Angelina

Writing about Sharon is very difficult and, I fear, the product isn’t very interesting to the reader(s). It’s difficult for reasons that may become clearer after a couple more entries. Writing about Mona is far easier. But I can’t skip through the story of Sharon, no matter how painful, since without her there is no Mona story—and, trust me, there’s much more Mona to come. Anyway, I’ll get to it again soon but I need a break from Sharon for one quick post about Angelina.

Don’t worry, you’re not forgetful, I've not written about Angelina before. I already needed a quick side trip away from the Sharon story when something happened two days ago that reminded me of Angelina. I spent most of the day this past Wednesday with a strange taste in my mouth. I had eaten an especially juicy pussy at about 5 AM that morning and the taste never left me. Not really a strong *pussy* taste but kind of a quasi-metallic aftertaste. Some of you guys (and a few of you girls, come to think of it) may know what I mean. (Or maybe it's just me.)

Now, I hear you saying, “Uh, Wil, ever heard of mouthwash? Toothpaste?” Yeah, I’m a firm believer in good oral hygiene. But circumstances kinda kept me from addressing that situation until just before dinner time. This is more than you ever wanted to know, isn’t it? Although, maybe a female reading this will ponder briefly the idea of leaving the aftertaste of her pussy in her lover’s mouth for a few hours and smile. I don’t know. Personally, the notion of a young miss going through the day with some of me inconspicuously splattered in her hair is a touching tribute. Especially if she knows it’s there. But, hey, that’s just me-- a hopeless romantic.

This blog is supposed to be about the 70’s, 80’s & 90’s but so far it’s been a lot about the 70’s and 90’s with the 80’s largely missing. Well, Angelina is from the 80’s! I’ll write about her a bit more at some later date, but here’s one quick piece. I was living in one of the largest cities in the Southwest US and in my late 20’s. I was working in a media job and was enjoying the hell out of life—making good money in a city full of beautiful young women. One night I had to go to an industry function at one of the new, glorious, gigantic hotels sprouting up in this boomtown city. I was there with my boss and a couple other guys from work. There was a cocktail party first and then a formal presentation before everybody could take off. Basically, it was face time… carry the company flag… make a showing. Maybe you’ve done this sort of thing. Anyway, I’m talking to some of the other media hustlers, eating cheddar cubes and shrimp, drinking a Tecate, mingling, basically killing time, when I spy this beauty about twenty feet away. Brown skin, jet black hair swept into a highly professional updo, impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit and white blouse, manicured, made-up perfectly, sexy heels, small breasts, but enough ass to get lost in for a month and a day. This lovely Latina with the bubble backside was an instant hard-on for your humble correspondent. I could barely take my eyes off of her but I didn’t want to get caught staring at her either by my co-workers or by her.

I was distracted just before the end of the cocktail period by a work buddy and a fresh beer when I noticed a woman come up to us at my left arm. I turned to find myself face to face with the brown beauty I had seen earlier. She put her hand out to me. I shook it as she said, “So you’re Bill Wilson! One of our mutual accounts warned me about you.” Her deep, dark eyes actually twinkled. I swear they did.

“Don’t believe anything they say about me, Angelina,” I said, reading her name off the white and blue “HELLO I’M_____” tag stuck to her suit. I introduced her to my workmate as they started to call the group to order for the presentation. She said, “Mind if I sit with you guys, I don’t see any of my group here.”
I told her I had paid them all to stay away just for that reason, and we found our seats.

Over the next few weeks Angelina and I got together a half dozen times or so and I’ll write about it all one of these years, but one meet-up I’ll try to tell you about now. We had both arranged our schedules so that we were calling on accounts fairly close to her house late in the AM one day. We were to meet at her bungalow around noon. I got there early and waited in the driveway. She had bought a little house rather than rent an apartment. It was a fixer-upper in a changing neighborhood. Her bet was that it was changing in a way that would bring increased equity. Sitting and waiting for her I figured that bet could go either way. But she had guts and a lot of spirit for taking risk.

She pulled in the drive behind me in her 3 series BMW. I looked in the mirror and watched her exit the car in a cream colored suit with a deep purple satin blouse. Suede heels matched the color of her blouse. Silver earrings and necklace... a black leather briefcase... she looked very professional and sexy at the same time. We went in the house together and she had no inclination for small talk. She told me to sit in the big overstuffed chair, went to the stereo in her living room and put the needle on Patti Austin’s “Havana Candy” album-- she loved soft jazz stuff.

She came back and did a slow strip for me—not allowing me to touch. Soon enough she was out of her suit and blouse but still in her jewelry, bra, garter & stockings, and her purple shoes—the naughty thing hadn’t worn panties. She cocked her head and looked at me as she undid her hair and let it fall down to her shoulders. I pointed at her and motioned for her to turn her back to me. I moved to the edge of my seat and ran my right hand over her brown round ass. She bent over a bit and put her hands on her knees. I gave her taut ass a firm smack. I wasn’t taking a chance—I already knew what she liked. She was a total slut for rough spanking. I gave her another firm smack on the left side. She took about a half dozen firm open hand swats to both cheeks without a whimper. Then a few more before I slid my finger between her legs. She was nice and wet. Hot and slick.

I stood up and led her to the couch. She reclined into the pillows with her right leg on the couch and her left foot on the floor—spread wide open. Hers was one of the first closely trimmed pussies I’d seen in person. Her lips were very full and clearly visible with her black bush trimmed nice and tight. They were so dark brown they almost looked purple. I ran my tongue through the deep furrow between her wet pussy lips. After nibbling away at her for a few minutes Angelina was fuller than any I’ve ever seen to this day. I slid two fingers into her and started to work her cunt hard and fast while tonguing around her clit. When she put her hands in my hair and pulled me into her I started sucking on her clit. Patti Austin had finished side one a long while and I was still eating her out. She was on fire-- her ankles locked behind me-- her hips bucking as she pushed into my face with her soaked cunt. I have no idea how many times she got off but when I was finally worn out after nearly an hour at her house she was glistening everywhere and obviously spent. I really wanted to fuck her until she passed out but I was going to be late for an appointment if I didn’t get going. Angelina threw her clothes on and backed her BMW out so I could go. She waved and ran into her house.


At 6PM I was supposed to be at a watering hole near the office with my boss. He loved going there because the waitresses were all sweet little babydolls and their uniform was white hotpants, bright colored tight tops, and white go-go boots. It was barely the 80’s and this place was still kinda in the 70’s—but in a cool way. In those days I was rockin’ a nice, big, dark moustache. Now some thought it was like Burt Reynolds. I thought the comparison to the brand new TV character, Magnum PI was better. (My “friends” thought I resembled the Frito Bandito. Bastards.) On the way over to the bar I had bought a can of 7 Up when I got gas for my plush ride. When I took the second sip of my drink I smelled Angelina’s pussy as if it was right back in front of me. Fuck. Her pussy juice was in my super cool moustache and the 7 Up had brought the scent back to life. I ran my tongue over it and wiped the Magnum ‘stache before going inside the dark bar. I sat down with my boss and ordered a gin and tonic.

“What happened to you today?” boss said with his usual grin.
“Accounts or pussy?” I said.
“Save the account shit for tomorrow morning.”
“I ate some great pussy for lunch today,” I said.
“You can’t expense that,” he said.
“It was free,” I said.
“You’ll find there’s no such thing,” he said.
I shrugged.
“Now, tell me all about it,” boss said, “Kendra?”
I just smiled.
“You motherfucker. Not Kendra? You motherfucker!”
I took a drink of my gin and tonic.
“Spill it all. Right now.”
My boss was grinning with anticipation but my lips were sealed.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Thanksgiving Dance

The fall continued with Sharon and me getting together about every other weekend. When we were at my place we had great fun. When I went to her school I felt like the proverbial brown shoes in a room full of tuxedos. Unfortunately she didn’t have a car and coming to see me meant a long bus ride so just to see each other I would usually drive to her place. Once I even drove to her school after class on a Friday, drove all the way back to my place—a round trip of about seven hours—so we could fuck freely all day Saturday before driving back to her school Sunday afternoon.

Perhaps the worst weekend at her campus was homecoming when her parents visited as well. Sleeping in the sorority house with Sharon was out of the question so I drove over really early Saturday morning, went to the football game with her and her folks, and then out to eat afterwards. Her mother didn’t like anything about me. Her father was nice enough but obviously lived in total fear of his wife. Mona had told me that their country club lifestyle was paid for by Sharon’s mother’s family wealth and that her dad was totally pussy whipped. I had doubted some of that thinking Mona was indulging in hyperbole. But watching the dynamics on homecoming weekend was educational and I was sure Mona was on to something with her theory. In any event, Wil was persona non grata around Sharon’s mother. I didn’t like her much either, but I was very polite to her. I made sure to leave before they did on homecoming Saturday lest they think I was going to deflower their daughter as soon as they left town. Didn’t bother me much. I would’ve liked to hang out Saturday night with Sharon as I’m quite sure her flowers would’ve been available for picking, but I went to another big campus in the state where I had a few friends and went out drinking with them all night before weaving my way back to my apartment Sunday afternoon.

Finally Thanksgiving weekend arrived. Both of us were tied up with family on Thursday but we got together Friday morning—Sharon driving over to my parent’s house. My mom and dad liked her and were happy to have her in our little house. We actually studied together that afternoon at the local library as both of us had papers due the following week, ate dinner at my parent’s house, and just watched TV that evening. Sharon wanted us to go out with some of her old high school friends Saturday night. I would have much rather just taken her to Mona’s house and fucked but she really wanted to go out to this hot new dance club with her pals. I wasn’t much for dancing but I didn’t want to be a total pain in the ass. When Sharon told me that I couldn’t wear jeans to this place I was certain I didn’t want to go, but I dug up a pair of black dress pants, a decent shirt, and borrowed a pair of black dress shoes from my father. I actually went out on a hot date to a dance club wearing shoes I borrowed from my dad. The lengths I went to trying to please this girl.

We got to the club around 9PM Saturday and her friends were all there already: three girlfriends and their dates. It was loud in there which was probably a blessing but it meant I was the guy nobody (except Sharon) knew. I felt a bit under the microscope by her girlfriends and their dates seemed a little too comfortable in the disco for my tastes. After a drink or two our group got out on the floor dancing including Sharon and me. After an hour of dancing and more drinks I was pretty much done with the dancing part and wanted to concentrate on the drinking part. Sharon was just getting warmed up with the dancing part, however, and from that difference some unfortunate conflict grew. It took the form of me sitting and drinking while she sat and fumed. Then some guy came over to ask her to dance—our body language wasn’t exactly screaming out THESE TWO ARE A COUPLE. She looked at me. I shrugged. She got up and danced with the slug. And, for the next half hour or so she danced away. I enjoyed watching her move on the dance floor but I didn’t enjoy watching her new dance partner move in on her. I even got the impression that she wasn’t being aggressive enough at defending herself from his untoward advances. Her girlfriends saw her laughing too and would glance at me from time to time.

As Sharon and Sluggo danced on I gathered up my coat and told the girl that was her “best friend” that I was heading out as long as she promised me that Sharon would get home safely. She said she would. I walked out to my car. It was cold as a well digger’s ass outside. I put on my gloves and hoped that the door locks on my little two-seater hadn’t frozen up. No problem. I fired up the engine and turned the defroster on since the windshield was completely frozen. It was a ragtop and leaked air around the windows so even the side glass was frosted up. I sat there waiting for the defroster to take hold rather than get out and scrape—I wasn’t in a big hurry-- hell, I didn’t even know where I was going to go.

There was a tapping at the passenger door glass. I could tell through the frosted glass that it was Sharon and I leaned over and popped the lock. She threw open the door and jumped in.

“Baby! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you wanted to go. I didn’t mean to make you mad!” she said in a rush.

She turned on the seat to face me, slid her knees to the floor in front of her seat, and went straight for the zipper on my black dress pants, pulled it down, got my hardening cock out in the frigid air and wrapped her lips around it, all within about ten seconds of me unlocking the door.

She went at my dick like never before. Stroking it hard, licking the head, getting about half of me down her throat before choking slightly, then licking the shaft and sucking like a demon. I pulled her wool hat off her head to get hold of the mass of hair beween me and the steering wheel as she went at it. A group of guys passed by the car on the way to their car and pounded on the trunk lid yelling and whooping since it was pretty obvious what was up—her butt--- and what was down—her blond head bobbing in my lap.

Sometime that night, after she drained my balls down her throat and licked up every drop she could find and before we drove off into the night, it began to dawn on me that being overly nice to Sharon was not exactly the best policy. She seemed to respond to something else a bit better.

I also remembered my mother and sister telling me when I was in eighth grade that it was a good idea to learn how to dance. They both told me that girls liked guys who would dance with them at high school dances and the like. I had to admit they were right on this point. I had only danced (clumsily I’m sure) for about an hour with Sharon and for that was rewarded with the best blowjob she’d ever performed for me.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Back To School

We got on the road for home Sunday afternoon at 4. Sharon was awake about fifteen minutes and then slept most of the way home curled up in the back. Mona, who had been at Chet’s apartment all night, lasted about an hour before she asked me to drive. I was tired but always up for driving a muscle car so I locked the Camaro at 70 MPH and we cruised north on the Interstate.

Mona talked for a while before she went to sleep, leaving me with the radio to fiddle with as I tried to keep from dozing off at the wheel. Before she drifted away Mona said she’d had a great time with her blind date and that he was coming up to see her for Labor Day weekend. Well, good for her, and way better for him, I thought.

I got back home from the wild weekend in Louisville at 10PM and fell in bed only to get up at 5 AM and go off to work at the plant. Not too much time left before going back to college for my junior year. Sharon and I got together almost every night between our return from the trip and our departure for school. She left for college three days before me. I was living off campus for the first time having found a one bedroom apartment over an appliance store about a 10 minute drive from campus. It was about twice the size of most student apartments but not more expensive because it was so far out of town. I liked it—although it was very quiet at night after two years of living in the dorms.

By the second week in my new place I was getting a letter almost every day from Sharon. It seems odd now in an age where people don’t write many letters, but phone calls were pretty expensive. Every letter smelled like her perfume and was written in red pen on white stationery—never on a page ripped from a spiral notebook. Maybe today’s college students will have similar memories about their Facebook pages and txt msgs as I have about sheets of clean white paper, covered in red ink that carried the scent of a great summer. I don’t know how she came up with stuff to write about every day. Thankfully, she didn’t complain that I wrote about once for every five or six of her missives. (Black Bic pen on cheap white ruled paper if you must know.)

Three weeks after school started I drove my little two-seater Italian sports car to her campus. It seemed like we hadn’t seen each other in months. When I saw her I felt for a moment like I might be falling in love with Sharon. I definitely felt that she loved me.

It was an eye-opening weekend. I was used to the "summertime Sharon" but at school she apparently didn’t wear bikinis, jeans, and halter tops. In fact, she was dressed up so much on Friday evening when I got to campus that I thought I had missed something in a letter about us going to some fancy place. But it was just her usual garb as a sorority sister. She looked great, by the way, but I felt dramatically underdressed. And there was another problem. I wasn’t supposed to be in the sorority house after 2 AM on the weekend so she was worried to distraction about that. She had asked some frat guy if I could stay at his place if the house mother threw me out. For me it was as if I had traveled to a foreign planet. She was so worried about someone knowing I was there that both Friday and Saturday night we didn’t even fuck. She did however blow me both nights and that was not a favorite activity for Sharon. I knew that and I thought it was pretty sweet that she would do that. Reciprocation was out of the question though. She wouldn’t even let me finger fuck her as she was so afraid she couldn’t be quiet. It was a kind of frustrating weekend but it could have been worse without her oral attention. I didn’t know why she didn’t like to suck cock, she was pretty good at it.

A couple weeks later Sharon took Trailways to see me at good old alma mater. I picked her up at the bus station and we went straight to get something for her to eat. She had been cranky when she got in—riding a bus for four hours can do that—but she started having fun immediately when we hit the bars and she got a burger and a beer in her. My school was about ten times the size of hers and she was knocked out by the whole Friday night scene. We finally got out to my apartment at Midnight.
“God Wil, this place is huge,” she said as we walked in.
She checked out the living room and kitchen. “Is this your furniture?”
“Nah, it’s a furnished place. The landlord runs the store downstairs. He’s a cool old guy,” I said.
She looked in the bathroom (which I made sure was sparkling clean) and put her makeup case on the counter. Then she went in the bedroom.

“Jesus. It’s a Kingsized bed!”
“Queen actually,” I said.
“If I transfer can I live here with you?”
“Sure,” I said knowing her parents would never let her go anywhere but the school where they had met and where her sister had also gone.
“Thanks baby. You’re so good to me,” she said.

We hugged.
We kissed.
And finally it started to feel like things were back to the way they’d been over summer and down in Louisville.

We never left the apartment until Sunday afternoon when she had to catch her bus back. It was thirty-six hours of fucking interrupted only by meals and hygiene breaks and it was amazing.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Pool Party

We had fun at dinner that night. Mona’s blind date, Chet, was indeed an old guy—must have been almost 35. But she seemed quite taken with him and, in fact, when we got back to the apartment complex after dinner Mona and Chet weren’t to be found. The next we saw her was about noon on Sunday, well before I was nervous about our ride back home that afternoon.

The apartment complex was full of people under 30 years old and there was a pool party going on when we got back from dinner so, of course, we put on swim suits and crashed the party. Sharon’s bikini was navy blue and tiny and it showed off her blond hair and body quite well. We mingled around a bit and talked to the locals. I got separated from Sharon at some point and was in a group talking to her sister and some of her neighbors when I realized Sharon wasn’t around. I spied her about thirty yards away surrounded by three guys. I went over and sat on a chaise lounge and watched her drinking, laughing, and flirting with them. I wasn’t jealous. I actually was proud she was with me—she looked so good. Now if I saw her sneaking off with one or all of those guys I would’ve gotten jealous, but she was just having fun. Anyway it wasn’t long until a local girl sat in the deck chair next to me and we started talking. She was a cute thing and a recent graduate of the University of Tennessee. She might have majored in cheerleading the way she looked. We had been talking together for about five minutes when Sharon walked up.
“Introduce me to your new friend, Wil,” she said.
I did just that. Then she asked something about when we were driving back to ______ the next day. She knew I didn’t know any more about that than she did. She was just establishing that we were together. A fact that didn’t matter too much when she was getting chatted up by three guys a few minutes earlier, but seemed more important to her now that I was talking to Miss Rocky Top. It didn’t bother me. The beauty from the Volunteer State excused herself soon after and repaired to more fertile fields.
“Let’s go up to the room, ok?” Sharon said after the other girl left.
Off we went. Sharon jumped in the pool and swam across to the side nearest the gate as I walked around the pool. She got out, we grabbed our towels off the fence, and went up to the room. As we walked I wondered if talking to three guys, all of whom clearly wanted to jump her frame, had gotten her excited. Maybe seeing me talking to a cute girl made her want to mark her territory. Whatever the reason I had a suspicion I was going to get laid. But, it’s always wrong to make an assumption about such things. Keep expectations low and hope for the best.

When we got up to the bedroom Sharon walked over to the window. It was cold in the room from the air conditioning so I wrapped the towel around her and dried her off. She opened the sliding window and we could hear the voices clearly from the pool. She unhooked her top and dropped it on the floor. Then she slid the wet bikini bottom off her hips and let it fall. You could feel warmer air coming in through the screen. I dried her nude body in front of the window, her back still to me. Then I slid my swim trunks off and dried myself off.

Sharon put her hands on the window sill which was about three feet off the floor and moved her feet back. The she put her bare feet about a yard apart. She didn’t say a word, she just rolled her hips so that her tight little ass was in the air. I ran the head of my cock through the center line of her blond bush. I worked it back and forth until I could feel a slickness-- either from her pussy or my precum. Then I slid it all into her with one slow stroke. She exhaled audibly and lowered her head. I reached around with my left hand and got hold of her full, firm left breast. I put my right hand on her waist. I slid my cock back out until just the tip was between her creamy lips. I held it there, steady, squeezing and tugging at her breast, and then, holding her hip firmly with my right hand I drove into her hard. She gasped. And then I began to hammer that slim little girl deep and fast. She made a lot of noise. They had to have heard it down at the pool. Which, I believe, is exactly what she wanted.

Later that night Sharon woke me up. “I want more, baby,” she said. I didn’t resist. She stroked me until I was good and hard. She climbed on top and lowered her hungry, wet cunt onto my cock. She grabbed her tits, threw her head back, and rode me until she was growling and panting. After she collapsed on me I was still hard and nowhere near shooting my load. So I took her hips in both hands and tossed her off me and onto her back on the bed. I immediately straddled her and put my dick between her tits.
I put both hands on the wall above the headboard.
“Squeeze ‘em up,” I said.
Sharon pushed her breasts together and I went to it until I shot a thick white rope on her neck, chin, and tits.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

You Get A Corn Dog!

I got up Saturday morning, showered and got dressed. Sharon was still asleep when I went out to the little kitchen and dining area of the apartment. I was surprised to find that Mona was already up and making coffee and foraging for food. She was wearing a bright blue satin robe that just about covered her ass. It was tied with a matching satin belt and as far as I could tell she wasn’t wearing anything under it.
“I’m surprised to see you up so early,” she said.
“Guess I’m not used to sleeping with someone else in the bed,” I said.
“She doesn’t snore, does she?”
“Nah. Wiggles around some though.”
She offered me some coffee. I was not yet addicted to the substance and declined.
We sat across from each other at the little table. I was so glad it didn’t have a glass top. If I’d been able to see her legs crossed in that short robe I would have stared, likely drooled, and ultimately embarrassed myself and been sent back home on the first departing Trailways. As it was her cleavage was such an eyeful I made sure to either look right in her eyes while she talked or look out the sliding door onto the patio.

“You guys had a lot of fun last night I guess,” Mona said.
I shrugged.
“It isn’t that big an apartment Wil and the walls aren’t that thick.”
I smiled.
“As if I wasn’t horny enough I had to try to get to sleep listenin’ to you two!” she said.
I blushed.
Mona laughed and shook her head.
“What’s the agenda today anyway?” I asked in an attempt to change the subject.
“Well, we’re going to some mall this morning for a bit… prolly eat lunch there… than we’re supposed to come back here and hang out at the pool all afternoon. We’re going to a nice restaurant tonight, and lucky me, they’ve arranged a blind date for me.”
“Sounds like a fun day. Blind date, huh?”
“Yeah. Some older guy from where she works. He’s like 33 or sumpthin'. We’ll see how that goes,” Mona said.
She got up, walked over to the sliding door and looked out at the pool area. Her view wasn’t half as good as mine.

It was about 11:30 AM at a mall somewhere in or around Louisville, Kentucky. I honestly didn’t really know where the hell we were. I couldn’t have gotten back to the apartment on a dare and I wasn’t used to feeling like I didn’t have some control over where I was and what I was doing. It was just Sharon, her sister, Mona, and me on the mall trip. Somehow her sister’s boyfriend got out of it and I didn’t. I don’t recall getting a vote.

The three of them were in a dress store and I was sitting on a bench in the concourse watching the passing parade. There was, surprisingly, quite a bit to see in a Louisville shopping mall on a Saturday around noon in the mid-70’s. Nothing I saw topped the three women I was traveling with though. Life could be worse than being part of this foursome. But frankly I felt like I was a double A minor leaguer who had been abruptly called up to the majors. I might not belong there, but I was damn sure going to do my best to perform well enough to stick around a while.

Sharon and her sister came out of the shop. They were headed to the food court but I couldn’t come along because Mona wanted me to come in the store and help her decide between two different dresses. I found her in the store standing in front of the mirrors by the change rooms in a long black dress.
“Willie, I need a man’s opinion about these two dresses,” she said.
“It looks kinda formal,” I said.
She stared at me.
“Wil, don’t goof around. Of course it looks formal. It’s a… formal! I just need you to tell me which one of these you like the best. OK. Now, look at this one.”
She turned around slowly in front of me. I took in every inch very carefully because I wanted to do a really good job on this assignment.

“Here, let me stand on my tiptoes this time because I’ll wear this with heels,” she said.
She turned slowly again in front of me and I’ll be damned if her ass didn’t look even better when she was on her toes. Then I sat and waited. Finally she came out in a very similar dress but in more of a teal color.
She did the tippy toe turn again.
“Well? Which one do you like best?” Mona said.
“I dunno. Both of them look really good. Which one do you like best?” I said.
She cocked her head to one side and said, “Wilson, I don’t need you to ask me which one I like. I know what I like! Which one do you like best?”
I stared at her. I pretended like I was thinking about it but really all I was coming up with was a boner. She looked around to see if anyone was near and then held me by the triceps and leaned up to my right ear.
“Which one of the two dresses makes you want to throw me down on the floor and fuck me?”
“The black one,” I said without hesitation.
“Great! Now wait for me to change and we’ll go find those guys—I’ll buy you a corn dog for helping me.”

I am holding a picture here that was taken in the parking lot of the apartment complex where we were staying. Sharon’s sister took the snapshot with a Kodak Instamatic when we got back from the mall. Since it was taken with a camera that is always in focus and therefore never really in focus it isn’t a terribly sharp image. The colors have shifted a bit too. But, it’s Sharon and me with a parking lot behind us and an apartment building beyond that. We're facing the camera and there isn’t a bit of daylight between us. My left arm is behind her and my hand is visible on her left hip. Her right arm is behind me and her hand is visible on my right side just above my belt.
We both have big grins. My hair is dark and just over my ears. I have on blue jeans and a shirt that looks light green but I think it was a green and white check. Sharon’s blond hair is a bit longer than I remembered—past her collarbone has it comes down in front. She has on blue jeans that ride well south of her belly button and a halter top. It’s a light blue halter top that has a wide band along the bottom and, I recall this quite clearly, it tied at the back of her neck.

It’s an odd thing to look at an old picture and know exactly what you were thinking when it was taken. I was thinking that Mona was about the hottest woman I’d ever known personally, that she was an unattainable prick tease, and that I was looking forward to pulling the string on that halter top of Sharon’s, playing with her nice firm titties, and fucking her all night.
It was the mid-70’s, we were two kids, and we were having a great time.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Second Wind

Sure, I was tired. It was late. But Sharon and I were going to be able to spend an entire night together for the first time. And I had spent about 5 hours or so sitting one bucket seat away from Mona who was, to be blunt, an instant hard-on. Then when we got to the apartment in Louisville it was a mad frenzy of female hormones as the three girls were excited about seeing one another. Other than Sharon’s sister’s boyfriend and me the place was full of agitated babes with firm tits, nice asses, manicured nails, beautiful hair, lipstick, perfume, and a few other things that cause a young man’s mind to drift away to thoughts of, um, er, pussy. So, maybe I could stay awake while Sharon was in the bathroom getting ready to come to bed.

I hadn’t exactly packed anything to sleep in. I mean, I was a guy in the summer between his sophomore and junior year in college. I didn’t own silk pajamas and a smoking jacket-- I usually just took my clothes off and went to bed. Maybe a t-shirt and undershorts in the winter, but it was August so I was naked under the top sheet when Sharon stepped into the bedroom—the only light coming from the bathroom as she left the door slightly ajar.

I was immediately glad she had spent so much time in there. She had freshened up from the drive and put on a baby doll nightie. She came over to the bed, sat next to me and we kissed for the first time all day. She told me she was glad I’d agreed to come along on this weekend trip. I told her that I was glad she asked. And that was about the end of the talk part of the proceedings. She pulled the sheet back as she moved to sit next to me with our backs against the headboard and noticed that she had my full attention.

“Oh! Baby, is this for me?” Sharon said.
She wrapped her left hand around my stiff cock and moved back in for a long kiss.
I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get any harder. I was equally sure about what Sharon wanted—it was what she always wanted. Soon enough the pillows were knocked to the floor, her head was on the mattress, her hands were gripping the bars of the headboard, her ass was in the air and my cock was sliding into her soaking wet pussy from behind.
Her ass was pale white, smooth as silk, and taut. Both of my hands were firmly on that tight little ass. My instincts were to give her a firm smack as I drove into her. But, I kept my wits about me. I kept to my plan of being more sweet, and kind, and gentle than Jack had been.
Well, up to a point.
There was nothing terribly gentle about the way I was fucking her and with each stroke deep into her the headboard would bump into the wall. Sharon was moaning, gasping, telling me how much she loved my cock. How she wanted it hard and deep and over and over again.
I didn’t feel that tired anymore.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

The Grass Is Always Bluer

We were barely back out on the highway when Sharon fell asleep in the cramped back of Mona’s Camaro. Since I was in the shotgun seat I claimed the right to control the radio and 8-track player. Mona pointed out that it was her car and her music and I’d only be allowed to be in charge of the music if I also talked to her as we roared along the road. Fair enough.

I punched around the dial as stations came and went catching “The Cisco Kid”, “Reelin’ In The Years”, “China Grove” and the like—sometimes in their entirety, sometimes just the last minute or so. I also kept up my end of the conversation with the owner/ operator of the Camaro. Mona was quite an interrogator. But I never felt uncomfortable. I was pretty good at dodging the questions if they got too close. Not that she didn't know I was dodging-- she'd laugh and keep probing around about school, old girlfriends and all that stuff. Besides, she was giving up a few details about Sharon just to keep stringing me along. The miles and hours flew by as “Let It Ride” and “Higher Ground” and more came through the speakers. Every now and then all I could tune in was something like, say, a Carpenters' song and I’d turn it down or look through the 8-track case. There wasn’t much in the tape collection that agreed with me but she did have ZZ’s Rio Grande Mud so I shoved it in. Mona didn’t comment about the choice.

“Is this OK, driver?” I asked.
“Yeah. That belonged to my ex. I’m more into Top 40 stuff, but it’s OK. Just leave it,” Mona said.
“Cool. I like ZZ Top.”
We continued the conversation and I attempted to shift it to finding out more about sleeping beauty in the backseat as the Texas power trio played on. Suddenly Mona said, “Turn that up!”
I cranked it up and she smiled. “God Wil, this song is soooo great to fuck to. It lasts forever with that nice slow beat.”

I was dumbstruck.
“What?” Mona said, looking at me for almost too long before looking back at the road.
“I can’t believe you used that word around me,” I said.
She laughed so loud she snorted and got embarrassed by it.
Sharon’s head popped up between the bucket seats. “What’s going on with you two?”
“Your virgin boyfriend was horrified because I told him this song was great for fucking,” Mona told her.
“So I go to sleep and you two talk about sex?” Sharon said in mock horror.
I didn’t say a fucking thing,” I protested.

Miles and a fast food stop later we made it to Louisville. It was about 10PM when we got to the apartment complex. I met Sharon’s older sister (Mona’s best friend) and her boyfriend. For the first fifteen or twenty minutes it was just him and me sitting out in the living room of the apartment talking about football while the three girls shrieked, giggled, yelped, and generally got caught up with everything-- at least everything they could talk about with us in the next room. I found out that the boyfriend was a recent addition to the scene, barely longer than I’d been dating Sharon, a time measured in days and weeks better than months and years. He was stunned to see Mona. He’d heard a lot about her from Sharon's sister but apparently the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous had never come up.

It turned out that he had an apartment in the same complex. For all I knew I was supposed to go stay at his apartment. But around 1 AM he and Sharon’s sister went over to his place, Sharon and I went off to her sister’s bedroom, and Mona went to the second bedroom—the roommate was out of town for the weekend.

After a full day at work followed by a ride down with the grand inquisitor, Mona, I was exhausted. Sharon, on the other hand, slept a good bit of the drive. She was wide awake. I was going to have to summon up all of my reserves to deal with my little blond fuck fiend this night.