The last night of the year, and I'm thinking of stories told me by young companions down the years. I do want to remember the girls who told me these things--- lovely voices and presences gone missing over the years. Well, let's put a few more stories into my archives.
The first one is from a girl I knew back in the lost world of the early Nineties. The tale actually came by letter. I still have the actual letter, complete with a Van Nuys postmark. A letter close to thirty years old now. I have no idea what became of the girl who wrote it--- vanished into domesticity somewhere in southern California, I expect. But the story itself is fun and highly visual, something done in blues and greens and black:
Hi! Mmm-- new tales to tell! I actually had sex in a laser beam! It was basically a starfuck. This band (all black) called Voodoo Posse played at After Hours, the dance club at Magic Mountain where I'm working this summer. So I met the drummer after the show, and we ended up at Mystic Lake (in the park still...) where the fireworks/laser show is. We ended up skinny-dipping and swam out to this one platform where a laser (green) shines down on a plume of smoke that rises steadily. Fortunately, a couple of weeks before, I'd talked to a tech I had sex with a few times about how it all worked. So I ended up fucking the drummer, surrounded by smoke, in the middle of a laser. Have you ever seen a laser mix with smoke up close? It's really intense! This is the second black guy I've had sex with, and he was so much better than the first--- and he was one of the juiciest guys I've ever felt inside me. The oral sex was amazing! He was just crazy with me! Lots of trying new positions in the water!
I remember that her name was Gen--- Genevieve ---and that she was a lovely, brown-haired girl with soft pale eyes. I have no idea where she is now, and certainly have no idea how she remembers her past and her adventures.
The second is from a posh girl in Colorado from the early Noughts. She'd gone to St.-John's out west, the western branch of the liberal arts college with a curriculum based solely on the Classics. I remember that she graduated, kicked around Europe for a while, was dumped by one lover in some roadside village in Brittany, and mugged in a railway station in Paris. She was last heard of living in Ireland. I'd written asking her about her adventures, and she responded with a few tales, including these---
Q.: Where and how did you first make love outdoors? What was it like? Was there risk involved? How do you feel about being naked outdoors?
Outside Christ Church College at the University of Oxford. I was on a school trip and certainly was not supposed to be fraternizing with the locals - inside or outside - so there was plenty of risk. The campus itself was imposing and lent the whole situation a gravity and drama that I have rarely felt since. I didn't get completely naked, as I was wearing a short white skirt with no underwear that could easily be thrown up (though it did take some athleticism and flexibility to avoid getting grass stains on that skirt).
Q.: Where is the riskiest/most public place you've ever made love? Whose idea was it? What was it like?
The European headquarters of Opus Dei. I've always been privately smug about this one and wish I could tell more people because it delights me in so many ways. It was in the evening, and we were walking back from a movie. I had been teasing him throughout the movie and on the trip back, and I guess he just couldn't restrain himself anymore. We jumped over the fence for what I thought might be a quick blow job, but he threw me on the ground. It was very passionate and rough, naughty and forbidden. We were collapsed on the grass when someone caught us and we had to run, me carrying my bra and my jeans half on, cum smeared all over my shirt and jeans. The man was shouting at us, and he said something about our souls being cursed or perhaps he cursed our souls - something rather violent anyway.
This one is a bit more harsh, but it's also from Maegan, something from when she was sixteen, back in the first year of the new century. She told me the story maybe nine or ten years ago. I've never had any follow-up on it:
Hmmm, most guys I've met are a bit squeamish about their own taste....they're fine with it all over a girl's body or mouth, but seem to prefer it to stay there.
I was at my first ever rave with some friends, and this older college guy kept hitting on me and dancing with me, but I wasn't interested. After awhile, I went to use the bathroom, dumb little naive girl that I was. It was upstairs through a dark hallway, and I had no idea I was being followed, but shortly after I sat down to pee, I heard someone else enter. I assumed it was another girl, but he kicked open the door, slamming my head against the wall in the process. I fell back and of course managed to pee all over bare legs. I wasn't wearing underwear, or they'd have been soaked. I was rather dazed and didn't quite understand what was going on, but before I had any idea of who it was, he had grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back (I had two french braid pigtails). He kept hold of them and used them to yank my head forward as well as control what I did the entire time. Naturally with him forcing me like that, I kept gagging, but he didn't seem to mind. He nearly gave me lock jaw, and he shoved his cock as far down my throat as he could; I have no idea who he was. After he left, I was shocked, stunned, and could barely walk. I went downstairs as best I could and stood by someone's car in the parking lot. I gagged for a while and cried. I wouldn't tell anyone else this, but I have masturbated to this story over and over since then. I keep remembering the sound of my own gagging and wondering whatever became of him and how he remembers me now. I can tell you, but no one else.
Four stories, here on the last night of the year. I miss the voices that attach to the stories. I miss a time when stories about adventures were offered up as gifts and introductions, when stories were exchanged over the aether.
My hope is that in the new year, we'll all feel free enough to have adventures again, and to tell stories about both the past and our plans and hopes and fantasies.
No comments:
Post a Comment