US Highways
For Whom the Belles Troll
5 April 2014
WHEN I LEFT Fort Myers Beach, I camped in the Everglades for two weeks. The place was almost deserted since the season was technically over. It was more than thirty miles from the park entrance to the campground. I had to stop and take a picture at Rock Reef Pass, elevation 3'. I could always say that was the high point of my trip.
Electric service was still functional as were the restrooms and showers. I had to fill my water tank, though, so I could have water in the trailer.
That was when I discovered I had another problem. Somewhere along the way, my water pump had developed a crack and as soon as I turned it on, it started spewing water into my storage area under the bed. I didn’t realize it until I saw water running out of the bottom of the trailer. Fortunately, everything in the storage bin was in plastic containers.
Fuck!
I’d paid for two weeks in this campsite, and even though that was only $150, breaking camp and towing the trailer to Homestead carried no assurance that I could find a replacement pump once I got there. It wasn’t a complicated operation to replace it and I had the necessary tools, so when I went in for weekly supplies, I could shop around and do the install myself.
It was a big campground and there were only about six other RVs scattered around it. We waved and acknowledged each other’s presence, but really didn’t have much interaction. So, it was moderately irritating to get back from my unsuccessful trip to Homestead and discover a pop-up camper in the space next to mine.
Unlike Fort Myers, the campsites in the Everglades are a good fifty feet wide with grass and picnic tables and room to play. It wasn’t really an imposition to have someone camped next to me and I let go of my irritation. Looking around the campground, I realized that the occupied sites, including mine, were the ones that had some shade. I could understand why the newcomers would want the site they chose.
I sat under my awning and had a beer and a cigar as the campers set up their pop-up. It was two women and a man. Looked like a fun party to have in that little camper. Then I realized the man was another woman, though a somewhat burly one. I figured that out while she was shooing the smallest of the three away from the camper and said, “We’ll do it. Just relax.” The banished woman sighed, looked over my direction and waved.
I waved back and motioned her to come on over. My first guess was that she was close to fifty, but she could have been thirty and had a hard life. She pulled a cigarette out of the pack she carried and asked for a light.
“They won’t let me do anything!” she said. “They treat me like an old lady.”
“Your kids?” I ventured.
“God, no! My girlfriends. Teach me to pick ’em so young. I’m Val,” she said, sticking out her hand.
“I’m Aroslav,” I responded. Ah. Lesbians. “Would you like a beer?”
“Thanks. You here all alone?”
“Yes. Just off seeing the world. In this instance, Florida.” We chit-chatted while her girlfriends finished setting up the tent and got their refrigerator and lights plugged in. I had a little opportunity to assess my new companion.
She said she was thirty-seven years old and had a daughter who would be twenty in June. I was correct in assuming she’d had a hard life or simply lived hard. Her accent was consistent with her home in Knoxville, Tennessee. Her ex-husband had gone to jail five years ago for robbing a gas station.
“At least he was around long enough to teach the worst of the boys not to touch our daughter,” Val said. “She’s got even bigger tits than me, but she learned about rubbers before I did.” I just sort of stared at her. That wasn’t the kind of information you normally share with a stranger. But I soon discovered that Val had no filters.
“We’re set up and Janna is cooking,” the big girl in the group said. She’d come across the space between our trailers to tell Val when supper would be ready. I offered her a beer and she accepted, tilting her head back and draining the bottle in one long gulp. This was a very big girl. She was easily two inches taller than me and outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. And solid. I won’t say she didn’t have any fat on her, but if we went head to head in a wrestling match, I didn’t think I’d stand a chance. Back in my less socially conscious days, I would have called her a railroad dyke.
A Long Time Ago: Honorary Lesbian
Back when I was working on my PhD in playwriting—officially, dramatic theory—while trying to hammer out my first novel, I still had to earn a living. Paula’s assessment was proving correct. I stood a chance of making money by designing and building sets. I’d taken my latest script to a startup theater on the east edge of St. Paul to meet with their artistic director. He’d nodded over the script and said it was interesting and funny, but he wasn’t sure his group would be the right venue for a farce about an Indiana preacher. On the other hand, would I be interested in designing the theater’s upcoming production of The Crucible?
I took the job after he promised that they had a crew that the stage manager had been cultivating. They liked to work together, but needed a pro to design and tech direct. An experienced crew? What a luxury!
Six women.
Donna, the stage manager, introduced me to my crew and I got a warm welcome when I showed them the designs. It turned out that the seven women, and a couple others I hadn’t met, had formed their own little club to do theater tech. None of them other than Donna had any formal education in theater, but they had all met as volunteers for a show produced by the city’s feminist theater group. Donna got them jobs. It was an unusual stage manager who could bring with her a full stage crew. Some women come together over coffee, books, social issues, or just for drinks. This crew had discovered they liked working backstage and it gave them plenty of opportunity to talk and have fun.
Two of the women were married. At least two and maybe more were gay. The youngest on the crew was nearly thirty and worked as an admin in a law firm. Ranging upward to about fifty years old, the women proved to be hard workers and one of the best tech crews I’d ever had.
“Theresa is mine,” Donna whispered to me after the intros. “Don’t touch. Take your pick of any of the others.” Well, excluding the married ladies, that narrowed the field to three and none of them were flirty. We worked.
We got the show up and it was successful. It was one of the least stressful shows I’d ever designed and by the time we closed it, I’d been accepted as one of the girls. Mostly, unless I needed to give instructions to someone, I kept my mouth shut. You have no idea what women will say to each other when they forget a man is around.
There was the usual talk about offices, families, theater gossip, and television shows. But once we’d been working together for a while, conversations began to loosen up. The legal admin got some very explicit instructions on how to seduce the lawyer she’d become interested in. I mean, the ladies set up every detail for her, including telling her how she should dress and the best blowjob techniques when she got him alone. Some of those techniques were things I’d never experienced!
One day the conversation was about lesbian sex and what each of the women liked when having her pussy eaten. One of the married women, Mary, simply couldn’t understand how a woman could put her face in another woman’s pussy. It was gross. It happened, though, that she had been the one offering the most creative suggestions about blowjobs a few days earlier. Donna’s girlfriend, Theresa, suddenly turned and looked at me.
“Are pussies gross, Ari?” she demanded. “Do you ever go down on a woman?”
“No, they aren’t gross, Theresa,” I said. “And yes, I go down. I’d have to say that I pretty much feel the same about eating pussy as you do.”
“But what about queefs? Gross!” June said.
“I figure if I put the air in there, I can stand the vart. It’s just an embarrassing noise, not a smell or taste.” I said.
“Too bad you’ve got a dick. You could be a lesbian.”
The night the show closed, of course, we had to strike the set and get it to storage. It was after midnight when Donna joined us and said she’d buy us a round at Screamers. I was all for a drink, and Mary had been casually bumping against me all evening.
“What about Ari?” Theresa asked.
“Oh,” Donna said. Like the others, I think she’d forgotten I was male. She considered a minute.
“He’s one of us,” Mary said. Donna nodded.
“Ari, we want you to come with us. Screamers is a lesbian bar on 7th. There won’t be any other men there at all. If you want to come with us, you have to promise not to speak to anyone but us. You want a beer, ask one of us. Not all the women in the bar are lesbians, like Mary and Elizabeth and June, but they are all women. Just do like you usually do and make us all forget you’re a man.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Mary said. “Ari, ride with me. I don’t want to stay out for more than one drink. Is that okay?”
“Fine,” I said. I wasn’t sure what I was getting into, but this was an adventure I wasn’t going to miss.
Mostly, Screamers was just a neighborhood bar where a bunch of people went to hang out. Like Cheers, only for dykes. There was even the requisite number of Harleys in the parking lot. It was dimly lit and music was playing on a jukebox. It smelled a little like stale beer. The leather jacket crew were mostly sitting at the bar. There were a few women who were dressed to the nines and were obviously being hit on at every opportunity. They’d go dance with the woman who asked them, sometimes get into a little clinch, and then return to their table where they’d all make a big show out of kissing each other and then redoing their makeup.
“Lipstick dykes,” Theresa muttered when we’d all packed into a tiny booth. I was smashed between her and Mary and was almost invisible. I hoped. “Order for us, Donna.” Over the six weeks we’d been working together, it had become obvious to me that even though Donna was the stage manager and in charge on stage, in their personal relationship Theresa was the top. A waitress came to the table and Donna ordered eight Dos Equis. The waitress scanned the table quickly and paused when she saw me. I saw her eyebrow twitch, but she didn’t say anything.
The conversation was lively around me, and filled with commentary on other bar patrons. I don’t think men look at other men in a bar and talk about what they are wearing. I don’t think they even talk about women in a bar like other women do. My experience was that most male conversation in a bar revolved around sports and, at most, which woman they’d fuck if given a chance. “I’d definitely do her.” Most went home alone.
Not so in a lesbian bar. My companions had an opinion or information about everyone in the bar.
“She shaves her puss bare. But she never gets all the stubble. You can get serious rug burn on your face.”
“She was in a really abusive relationship. Lila won’t allow her ex in the bar anymore.”
“I bet she squirts. You can tell by the way she’s sitting. Look at her legs.” Really? You can tell if a woman is a squirter by looking at the way she sits? I needed some more instruction. But I wasn’t going to get it.
Four angry-looking women were headed toward our table.
“What’s he doing in here?” the lead asked. I was toast.
There was suddenly a wall between me and the approaching women. A wall of six women who all slid out of the booth and stood between it and the rest of the bar. And it was obvious that these women were not taking shit from anyone. Only Mary stayed in the booth, gripping my arm so I wouldn’t be tempted to interfere. As if.
“He’s an honorary lesbian and he’s ours,” Theresa declared. “He’s a better rug muncher than you, Karla.”
“You’re such a bitch, Theresa. You never complained when my tongue was in your crotch.”
“I never dis a tongue on my clit, even if it isn’t very good.”
“You fucked her?” Donna growled.
“Drop it or you’re all out of here,” a voice came from behind them. I had no idea who it was, but I had to assume it was the bar owner, Lila. I could not see past the line of backsides that blocked my view.
“You shouldn’t allow his kind in here,” Karla said, but it was obvious she was backing off.
“It’s a free country,” Lila said. My protectors slid back into the booth around me and our waitress set a tray of beers on the table and beat a hasty retreat. A petite woman in high heels and a nice professional slacks suit stayed by the table. One glance at the baseball bat in her hand, however, told me that she was not a person I wanted to cross. “Drink up,” she said. “Closing time is in an hour. You might not want to stay for last call.” She looked meaningfully at me and I just nodded once. She returned to the bar.
“Well, that was exciting,” Mary squeaked.
“You guys took a big risk protecting me,” I said. “I should probably go.”
“Not really,” Theresa said. “Karla acts tough, but both her nipples are pierced and if you can grab hold of one and twist, she’s on the floor begging to eat you. And you can’t leave yet. You haven’t had your beer. If you leave now, it will look like you’re running away.”
Yeah. Well. That would be true. Nonetheless, I drank my beer and everything seemed to return to normal.
“You fucked her?” Donna repeated.
“It was long before I found your silken tongue,” Theresa said. She laid a very intense kiss on our stage manager.
When we were finished, Donna paid the tab and we left as a group. No one in the bar followed us and no one was waiting outside. I got into Mary’s car and we left before the other women had gotten into their cars. I’d survived my first—and only—lesbian bar experience.
But my night wasn’t over.
“Show me your apartment, Ari,” Mary said when she pulled up to my door. It was nearly two a.m. and I was a little surprised, but invited her in.
“Would you like a sparkling water?” I asked. I didn’t want to put her back on the road with another drink, but wanted to be hospitable. She accepted as she looked around.
“It’s a little Spartan, isn’t it?”
“I call this style ‘early divorce’. It’s something I just learned about and thought I’d try.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Ari.” I turned toward her voice and she was in my arms with her lips on my lips and our tongues tangling. I was responding rapidly. “I’m ready,” she whispered. “I’ve been ready ever since those bull dykes showed up at our table. Show me your pussy-licking skills, Ari.”
“Mary,” I gasped. “What about your husband? You aren’t divorced, are you?”
“No. But whenever I go out with the girls, he expects that some lesbian will be licking me before the night is over.”
“But I’m…”
“An honorary lesbian. Theresa said so. Do me, Ari. I’m dripping. Donna says my pussy is one of the sweetest she’s ever tasted.”
Well, I did have a bed. Or at least I had a large mattress on the floor. I led her in and started undressing her.
“I want to see more of this beautiful body than just your pussy,” I said. “I want all of you.”
“God! You are just like a lesbian,” she said. We kept kissing and undressed each other. I’d always thought Mary was the cutest of the girls for all that she was at least ten years older than me. I knew she had two kids at home, too, but she’d taken extraordinary care of that body. We got onto the bed and kept kissing. She stroked my cock a few times and I could feel her slick things up with my pre-come. I worked my way down her body and she spread her legs.
It wasn’t as common back then for women to shave their pussies, but from the conversations I’d been privy to over the past few weeks, I discovered that it was a lot more common among women who planned to be eaten. A lot. Mary had a full bush down to where her slit began. Everything from that point down was smooth and bare. I parted those lips with my tongue and set about proving what a good lesbian I was.
“Turn around,” she gasped after her first come. She was just as sweet as Donna had supposedly said. In fact, I wasn’t sure but what she used some kind of flavoring down there. “I’m not going to leave you hanging, Ari. Let me do you while you give me another of those incredible comes.”
In a few seconds, we were arranged in a sixty-nine and she was riding my face while she inhaled my cock. I tried to focus on her pussy, licking all the way up to her asshole and back to her clit. She shuddered through another orgasm before she really went to work on my cock.
“Oh, god,” she murmured around the head of my cock as she kissed it and licked the shaft. “Eating pussy isn’t so gross after all. It tastes just like my husband’s cock.” If that was what she needed to think, I was okay with it. She was the woman who had described blowjob techniques I had never experienced. Until tonight. She used her hands in concert with her mouth to both stroke and twist around my shaft. And when I was sure I wouldn’t last any longer, she shoved a finger up my ass and I started spraying her tonsils. Rather than pulling back, she pushed her mouth down farther on my cock and I could feel her swallowing as I continued to pulse.
When my eyes uncrossed, she still held me in her mouth. I attacked her slit again and lashed her clit. It appeared she was just about ready for another good one, so I borrowed a page from her book and took my finger out of her pussy and shoved it in her ass. She screamed and squealed and bucked against my face until she’d finally had enough and rolled off me. My finger came out with a pop and she gasped again.
“Theresa is not going to believe this when I tell her,” Mary said.
I guess that cemented my reputation as an honorary lesbian.
Back to The Everglades
“Ari, this is Dolly. Dolly, this is Mr. Aroslav whose beer you just guzzled,” Val said.
“I was hot,” Dolly responded. She turned to me and offered a fist to bump. “Thanks for the beer. We just got ours on ice and it ain’t cold yet.”
“My pleasure, Dolly. Be sure to take one to Janna, too. Cook deserves to be treated nice,” I said. Dolly grinned at me.
It’s kind of a cliché to say a big woman has a really pretty face. As if the rest of her was an ugly mess. Well, Dolly did have a pretty face and there was really nothing wrong with the rest of her. I know that the tall women I usually write about are thin as a rail because… well, Carly. But even though Dolly was big around as well as tall, she wasn’t an ugly woman at all. I supposed most men didn’t give the giantess a second look, but that was their loss.
“You should see the slut,” Dolly said, rolling her eyes. “As soon as I had the grill set up, she stripped down to her bikini and started dancing while she got the food ready. I think it’s her bikini. Might just be her underwear. She has the sluttiest of both.”
“Be nice, Dolly. You know she does it just for you,” Val said. “Take off your shirt and show us your bikini.”
“Aw, Val,” Dolly said. She was blushing, but she pulled the sports jersey she was wearing over her head and off. Val definitely controlled her. It’s a misconception to assume that a big woman—and I was face to face with a seriously big woman—necessarily has big breasts. I guessed that Dolly’s bikini had less to cover than Val had. Val proved it by pulling off her shirt to show a bright yellow bikini as well. She stood on tiptoes and gave Dolly a kiss, tweaking a nipple as she did so. Dolly picked the smaller woman up and smashed her lips against hers. She set her down.
“Isn’t she something?” Val said, turning back to me. She didn’t seem to notice the tent in my pants, but I wasn’t about to hide it. “I been trying to get her knocked up, but I can’t find a guy who’ll do her.” Dolly turned crimson. You just don’t think about a large lesbian being embarrassed. And the truth was, I liked her. She was big and, apparently, too much information was the standard for Val, but Dolly was a sweet girl. I estimated she was in her mid-twenties, though it was hard to tell. Her face looked so young.
“I’d do her,” I said impulsively. “I couldn’t knock her up because I got those parts disconnected years ago. We could practice, though. All night.”
“Oh, gawd!” Dolly moaned. She turned to Val. “You are gonna get such a licking tonight.” That image just burned itself into my brain.
“Hey you two sluts,” called the bikini clad Janna from the front of their camper. “Dinner’s ready. Get your asses over here.” Janna wasn’t a skinny girl, either, but she did have a skinny girl bikini on. It disappeared in some places. I handed Dolly a beer to take to Janna and she thanked me. Just before she left, Val gave my arm a squeeze, pushing her bosom into it.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m not really a lez, but those two girls suck clit like you would not believe.”
The week in the Everglades was peaceful. The ladies next door took off each morning to drive to one of the many beaches around Homestead and Miami. I went into town a couple of times because I had no Internet service out at the campground and I was trying to find a replacement water pump. It looked like I was going to be without water until I got north of Port St. Lucie. Oh well. There were showers in the restrooms just a couple hundred feet away, even if they were cold. I kept a bucket of water by the toilet for flushing and had bottled water for coffee. Everything else I cooked on the grill and ate off paper plates.
When they got back from their day’s outing, if it wasn’t late enough that I was in bed, Val would often stop over and either bring or accept a beer as she told me about their day.
“You have got to go to that beach, Ari,” she enthused. “The tiniest bikinis I ever seen and the roundest asses. Every color you can think of. Careless girls, too. One bitch parked her blanket right straight ahead of us and proceeded to bare her beaver while she laid in the sun. It was so hot out there, I had to offer to rub sunblock on it. It was already red and puffy.”
“Sounds like a lesbian paradise,” I laughed.
“Oh, there was plenty of guys if you swing that way. They sure were swinging!”
We compared notes on other parts of the park and other parks outside the ’Glades. I visited some of her recommendations. I tended to stay around camp most of the time, though. I was really getting into Living Next Door to Heaven Part II: The Agreement. I loved setting up some rules and then seeing how far the kids could push them without breaking them.
The morning I hitched up the trailer to leave, Dolly came to see if she could help. I thanked her, though there wasn’t anything but power to disconnect. I did have leveling blocks to deal with and Dolly did a great job of directing me as I backed the hitch up under the tongue of the trailer. I figured I’d go say goodbye to the other two before I pulled out. Dolly held me back a moment.
“Did you mean it?” she asked.
“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about. We’d been camped next to each other for over a week and I’d even had the three of them over for dinner one night. When I make beans and rice, it always makes up a big batch.
“About… When you said you’d do me? Did you mean that?” I suddenly got the feeling that maybe Dolly wasn’t a lesbian by choice. At least not first choice.
“Do you want to go inside the trailer and find out?” I said. She stared at the ground. “Dolly, you’re a sweet woman. You are bigger than average, but that doesn’t take away from you being a woman and yes, I find you desirable. Is that what you want?”
“No. Well, not really. I mean, I don’t want to just go into your trailer and jump your bones. But, Ari, no guy has ever said anything like that to me. It’s nice to know you meant it.”
“That wasn’t a particularly romantic way for me to tell you,” I said.
“Wasn’t romance. It was just sex. Still, it was nice to know.”
I walked over to their camper with her and said my goodbyes. They’d decided to stay another week with the park almost empty. I was headed down to Key West just to get to Mile 0 of US Route 1 and head north. Each of the ladies gave me a hug and a sweet little kiss. Dolly blushed fire engine red. Val wiggled her tits up against my chest and drove her tongue into my mouth.
“See you around, cowboy,” she teased.
I got in the truck and pulled out of the campground.
Key West is basically an ugly tourist trap with a monument that says you are 70 miles from Cuba, and a beach that was one of the smallest I’d ever seen. I got my picture of Milepost 0 and a sticker for the back of my trailer, and headed north.
I found a nice little place on Long Key to camp and watched sunset and moonrise at the same time. I’d been clued in on a tiny restaurant reputed to have the best burgers in Florida out on Deer Key. I found it, as had enough other people to pack the place to overflowing. It was called the No Name Bar. The local ritual was to write your name on a dollar bill and staple it to a wall. The walls and ceiling were completely papered with one dollar bills.
After a couple days on the Keys, I decided to head north. The Keys were a bust as far as I was concerned and I’d read about a nudist park near the Georgia border that had a music festival coming up. I got a reservation there and was going to work my way slowly up Highway 1.
US Highway 1 was six lanes wide coming out of Homestead, just another big highway lined with malls and auto dealers. I was already planning to leave it and find a backroad north instead. Somebody laid on their horn nearby and I looked out the side mirror. Down next to me was a gray Toyota wagon pulling a pop-up camper. Dolly was driving and had one arm out the window to wave at me. Val was in the backseat and had her head out the window yelling and waving. They peeled off into a shopping center and I edged over to the next entrance. They’d stopped in front of an auto parts store and I pulled into a space next to them. Dolly and Janna had the back of the wagon open and, after they waved at me, they headed for the store. Val came over to give me a hug.
“We blew a fuse in the car when we tried to plug the refrigerator into it,” she said.
“I thought you were staying down there for another week,” I said. I ruled out the idea that they were stalking me. There was no way they could know I would be heading out of the Keys two days after I got there.
“They mowed the whole campground this morning. Bugs came out of everywhere. You shoulda seen us swattin’ and whackin’ at each other. We closed up the camper and hitched up to get outa there. That’s how we happened to plug the lights into the car with the refrigerator still connected. Boom!”
“So, you’re just headed home?”
“We don’t know where we’re going. We’ll just drive up here a way and find a campground near a beach. Must be one somewhere.” The whole time Val was talking she was edging closer to me. I was up against the truck and she was a couple inches in front of me. “Where you goin’ next?”
“I found a park up near Fort Lauderdale,” I said. “Figure I’ll spend a couple days there. Next weekend I plan to be at a nude park west of Jacksonville.”
“I love nude! I never wear clothes at home. You should come visit me in Knoxville,” she said. Well, she might not be the prettiest woman in the world, but she was certainly being one of the friendliest. I pulled out my cellphone.
“Give me your number and the rest of your name so I can give you a call when I get to the Smokies. I’ll either stay in Gatlinburg or Pigeon Forge. That’s not far.” Under the pretense of looking over my hands as I thumbed in her phone number, Val closed the remaining distance between us and started rubbing her tits against the back of my hands. It was subtle at first, but soon became obvious that her nipples were hardening against my hands while I held the phone.
A Long Time Ago: Personal Space
And that brings me back to Joy.
Remember Joy? The judge’s daughter who was way above my social class.
It was two weeks before high school graduation and Coach Hancock had come down hard on the seniors for goofing off in his government class. We were all squirrelly as hell and nobody was really concentrating on school. We’d already started partying and nearly every night we were out late playing games that mostly had to do with getting touchy-feely with classmates you figured you might not ever see again. Oh, the games all had ‘science’ behind them. We were developing trust with each other by having one person (strangely, always a girl) stand in the middle of a tight circle of guys sitting on the floor. She’d hold herself as stiffly as possible and then tilt until she fell backwards. The boy behind her would catch her falling body and toss it the other direction. Of course, there was a lot of catching her by the boobs and giving a little squeeze as we sent her on to the next guy until she’d start giggling and collapse instead of staying stiff. I’d wanted my hands on Shannon’s boobs for three years and this was the only opportunity I’d gotten so far. But that’s a different story.
The real story here is that we were staying out ridiculously late every night and sleeping through classes. Serious sleep deprivation. Coach Hancock said that since we couldn’t focus on class, he was just going to assign us a paper to be turned in before the weekend and that anyone who didn’t have it in would have to come to school during senior week when we all intended to be gone. He was a good guy, a six-six former marine sergeant who coached basketball, but he could be hard as nails if you disrespected him.
The assignment: Research and describe a political geographic division within the state and tell how its boundaries were defined and what impact it has on state and local governance. Well, smart person that I was, I chose to describe our judicial district. After all, we had a judge living right there in town and I figured I could just talk to her and get all the info I needed. So, I let the report go until Thursday because… parties. I was so sleep-deprived that it was all I could do to keep my eyes open as I walked down to the judge’s house that evening. It was nearly nine o’clock, but over the past three years, I’d learned that she was a cool lady and people stopped in to see Joy all the time. All I really needed was a good map of the district and I’d fake the rest of it. There hadn’t been an essay in three years that I’d received less than an A-minus on. I was a writer.
Joy answered the door when I rang.
She had a halter and a pair of shorts on. It looked like she was going to go out to a party tonight and I was going to be stuck in my room trying to stay awake while I typed up this stupid report. Blonde hair, sparkling white teeth, and deep blue eyes that I thought were a nice match for my own. Even though I wore glasses.
“Hi, Ari. What’s up?” she asked when she opened the door.
“Oh, hi, Joy. I figured you’d be out already. I actually came to ask your mom a question.”
“You working on Hancock’s project?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re out of luck.”
“What?”
“Mom and Dad went to a judicial conference in DC this week. They aren’t home,” she said. It took a moment for that to slip through the haze that lack of sleep and the presence of her breasts so nicely encased in that flimsy little halter had closed in over my mind. I think she noticed. She backed up a step and I wondered if I’d actually reached out to touch her. “What info are you looking for? Maybe I can get it.”
“I just needed a map of her judicial district,” I said.
“Oh, that’s easy enough. It’s the same as the county. Let me get a county map from her office. She has them lying all over everywhere.” I watched her ass in those tight little short-shorts as she went into her mother’s office. I followed and stood in the doorway. Joy was bent over a file drawer and I wanted nothing more than to slip up behind her and press my cock into that sweet round ass. I think she saw me.
She brought a folded map and handed it to me. Only she didn’t let go. She held onto the map as I raised my hands to take it and opened it up to point out various features of the county as she moved closer. I tried to ask specific questions from my muddled brain. Not only was Joy close enough that I could feel her breath as she talked to me, I could feel her tits brushing against the backs of my hands as I held the map there. Her nipples were turning into hard points against me. I think I was a little short of oxygen when she pulled the map out of my hands and dropped it on the floor. I stood there looking at my hands touching her breasts, thinking in my irrational mind that she was going to hit me. Instead she kissed me.
“Ari,” she said after a gentle brush of her lips. “When a girl shoves her breasts into your hands, it’s okay to touch them.” She kissed me again, and when I turned my palms to her breasts and started softly kneading them, the kiss intensified to something I was completely unprepared for. She had a hand on the back of my neck and moved me with her as she backed into the living room and we sank onto a sofa.
“God, Joy,” I sighed. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Three years, Ari. Three years we’ve known each other and you never asked me out. Why?”
“You’re always, so… your family is so much better than mine. I didn’t figure you’d have anything to do with me.”
“You’re like third in our class,” she said. “How can you be so stupid?”
“Joy, do you mean we’d…?”
“Oh, I doubt we’d ever have been boyfriend and girlfriend,” she said. “But we’d have had a hell of a good time on a date.”
“I really am stupid, aren’t I?”
“I’m not going to fuck you, Ari. But you can touch me.”
“Why? Are you a virgin, Joy?” I was lying half on top of her and had pushed the halter up so my hands were on her bare tits. I even had a condom in my wallet because… I was a senior. Who knew what might happen?
“You’ve got to be kidding. I wasn’t a virgin when you met me three years ago. But you are. And fucking would mean something different to you than to me,” she said. She untied the halter and tossed it aside. She pushed her hands between us and when she’d unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts, she turned her hand over and started stroking my cock. “But we can touch. I don’t think either of us would read too much into getting each other off. You’ve been getting Deb off, haven’t you? And she’s been doing you?”
“Oh, god! Deb!” I started to lever myself up off Joy. My girlfriend. I imagined this must be what it was like to be drunk.
“Suck my tits, Ari. Do you really think Deb isn’t getting mauled by everyone she can this week? Don’t worry. She still loves you. But we all want to have a little fun. Suck me, Ari. Get your fingers stinky.”
Oh, fuck! I fell to those incredible tits that I’d been watching from afar for three years and feasted on them. And Joy wasn’t idle. She got my shirt unbuttoned and scratched against my chest and my nipples with her nails, lightly stimulating them. That was like an electric connection straight to the tip of my cock. I slid a hand down her flat, smooth stomach. She didn’t offer to push her shorts down, but she sucked her tummy in a little like that would make it easier to get my hand under the waistband of her panties.
Only there weren’t any panties there. I slid right down her stomach and across her blonde pubic hair to her very wet snatch. I found her little nubbin and she jerked my head up to her mouth to kiss me while she squealed. I slid a finger into her wet warm depths. Her shorts weren’t off, but my hand had pushed them down far enough that I could get into action.
“Oh, yeah. Right there. Deb taught you good. Rub that spot, Ari. You’re going to make me… I’m going to come!” and she did. If she hadn’t left her shorts on, she’d have left a huge wet spot on the sofa. She was panting and kissing me and rolling her hips on my hand. “One more. One more. Yes!” she cried. This one wasn’t quite as juicy, but apparently, it made her too sensitive for me to keep going and she pulled my hand out of her pants and shoved my fingers in my mouth. “Suck those while I suck you,” she said.
Joy started kissing her way down my body while her fingers unfastened my belt and my jeans. She paused to use her tongue on my hypersensitive nipples and I almost came in her hands. But Joy was going for the good stuff and shortly, she had my cock out of my pants and in her mouth.
My eyes crossed. I wished I was just a little less tired so I could really enjoy the sensation of having my cock sucked by fuckin’ Joy the Judge’s daughter. I came. I fountained and sprayed into her mouth and she gulped it down as fast as I could squirt it. And then she just held me in her mouth, swallowing and bathing my cock with her tongue as I softened. She gave me a couple final sucks and tucked me back into my jeans.
“Mmm. Feeling a guy come in my mouth is so good I don’t want to let him go. You’re not going to get hard again for another, though, are you?” she sighed. She kissed her way back up my chest and fastened her lips on mine, probing with her tongue. I’d never Frenched a girl who had just had my come in her mouth, but… Fuck! It was Joy and I knew I’d probably never have a chance like this again. I kissed her and got my hands on her perfectly gorgeous tits again. It was almost too much. I was struggling to keep my eyes open as we kissed because if I closed them, I’d go to sleep.
“You need to get home and finish that report, big guy,” she said as she nibbled my ear. “I wish we’d have started this three years ago.”
Back to Val
Feeling Val’s nipples hardening against the back of my fingers, I gave up all pretenses of trying to enter something in my phone. I spread my fingers slightly and scissor-pinched her nipples. She gasped and I think if we weren’t out in a Walmart parking lot, she’d have done me right there.
“Got the fuse,” Janna called as she and Dolly closed in on the car. Val looked up into my eyes.
“Call me from Pigeon Forge. I can be there in an hour.”
I decided right then to make a stop in the Smoky Mountains and reserved a slot in an RV park nearby. But first, I was headed to ‘Barely Surviving’, a music festival at a nudist park in Georgia. Despite considering myself a nudist in my home, I’d never actually been to a nudist park or an event that was nude. Except the Summer Solstice Parade on Fremont in Seattle. That was entertaining, but I was an observer, not a participant. My experience with public nudity was limited to the few days Angie and I spent at the Magic Circle in Quartzite where there were only two other couples. And to occasionally forgetting to put clothes on when I stepped out on my front porch in Seattle to get the morning newspaper.
My first experience made nudism a life choice. It would take me a while to figure out where nudist parks were located and how to reserve space for my trailer at them, but Barely Surviving was my kind of party. There were about a hundred people camped at the ‘resort.’ Apparently, it gets to use that word because it has a swimming pool. Aside from that, it’s just a campground where people run around naked. There were trailers, motorhomes, and tents, organized with some sense of order and with enough space between the sites that you didn’t feel like you were in your neighbor’s bedroom all the time.
This festival had no underage kids at it. The owner explained that wasn’t because of the nudity, but alcohol was allowed throughout the park and the authorities frowned on that. When the youngest at the park is twenty-one and the oldest is in his seventies, you can imagine the range of body types you can find. There weren’t many singles, but people were all friendly and there were campfires, shared meals, bottles of Fireball, and a lot of good natured storytelling. And when the sun went down, the music went up.
And people danced.
It didn’t make any difference whether a person was part of a couple or single, whether he or she was fit or fat. People got up and shook what they had. I had friends who posted memes on Facebook that said things like, “Every time I do laundry, I consider becoming a nudist. Then I look in the mirror.” Well, here’s a news flash: There are no mirrors. I spent the entire week thinking that I looked better than anyone else there. And I’d bet everyone there thought the same about themselves. There was no body shame and no embarrassment. And surprisingly, no erections.
Well, I did get started on a chub while I was dancing to ‘Yesterday’ with a single woman I’d been hanging out with. Nona was about fifty-five, but my best guess was that her breasts were only about twenty. She confirmed that later. She thought her husband would like something a little bigger and rounder, so she had them done about twenty years earlier. Then he up and died on her and she was really pissed about that.
She was a real southern belle, but as loopy as they come. She had the general life philosophy of an earth mother. She wanted natural everything—sea salt, organic vegetables, grass-fed beef—except her boobs. I really started getting interested in her when she started talking about her pagan celebrations and earth-based beliefs. But hidden beneath the surface of this aging hippie chick was the most conservative bitch I’d ever met. Obama was to blame for everything that was wrong in the world. Even the death of her husband. Gays should have no rights at all and gay marriage was an abomination. The whole liberal agenda was ruining America and she was ready to vote for the most outlandishly rightwing candidate for any office that she could find. And don’t think you can take her guns away because she wasn’t afraid to use them.
Okay. I have a lot of tolerance for people. I don’t call that liberal or conservative. I call it live and let live. But you might have noticed from some of my stories that I tend to the left of center. I’m not afraid to call bullshit on my fellow liberals, though, any more than I am likely to ridicule science-denying conservatives. There is no global warming in Florida, but they are still seeking government aid and assistance because the water levels are rising and cutting into their beaches. But that’s not because of global warming. God did it. And the government they want to be smaller should be providing aid because their tourist economy has been damaged.
Anyway, I was not going to contradict Nona as I walked her to her campsite, or get into an argument—especially when she was having me squeeze and examine her breasts to prove how natural they felt while she reamed my mouth with her tongue. In fact, her nipples seemed fine and stiffly welcoming of my caresses and kisses. When we hugged, a certain distance was enforced between our centers because we were held five inches apart by her boobs. They did not squish. They did not flatten. She could do jumping jacks and they would not jiggle. But I’ve fucked a plastic doll. I can get past inflated boobs.
Until…
“I told that other guy that’s been sniffing around that it ain’t gonna happen tonight,” she said as we caught our breath and she caught my hand headed south. “I’m telling you the same thing. It ain’t gonna happen. Unless you’re ready for a lifelong commitment. My husband betrayed me. He was supposed to be my companion and take care of me for the rest of my life. In return for that I let him take me any way he wanted to, and I enjoyed it. I’d spread my legs whenever he was hard. I welcomed him in. But then he tricked me and died. Well, I’m not spreading these legs for anyone who isn’t ready to take care of me for the rest of my life. I’m a lady, born and bred in the south. I deserve to be taken care of by a real man.”
Holy fucking shit. I suddenly became a rantallion. I used that term in Blackfeather. When my heroine went back to the 1860s, I needed gutter talk and slang that was appropriate for the era. I found a document of Victorian slang euphemisms. It was particularly helpful to find a woman’s genital region was called her privities. Well, a rantallion is one whose scrotum is so relaxed as to be longer than his penis, that is, whose shot pouch is longer that the barrel of his piece.
Who’d have thought there was a word for that? It made me wonder what kinds of slang we had today that made our language more colorful. I get so tired of referring to pussy, cunt, and twat. What happened to words like quim, muff, and madge? Or even ‘old hat’ (because it’s frequently felt)? Oh. Like I said, my mind wanders and sometimes I have trouble finding it again.
There was a bit of a contest going on over whether my penis would shrink up into my gut before my balls found safety behind my liver. Regardless, there was no reason to continue my explorations south of the equator.
I’m fundamentally a cad. I wasn’t going to do anything that implied that I was the caretaker that she should marry. But she’d already indicated that kissing her and squeezing those artificial boobs weren’t activities that required a license, so I indulged myself one more time before saying good night and going back to my trailer to safely relieve a little pressure.
It’s a long way through Georgia and the Carolinas. I got periodic texts from Val asking where I was and what I was doing. When was I coming to visit her? I’d often answer and ask a question but not hear back for several days.
I found another nudist park just south of Savannah and spent a week there, just because I wasn’t ready to get dressed yet. I did take a day to go into the historic town, though, because a few years ago, I wrote two books at once during the month of November (NaNoWriMo). I always set myself new challenges for the novel-writing month. That time, I worked on one book over coffee in the mornings—a sequel to my mystery, Municipal Blondes—and a second book while I was drinking wine in the evenings—The Volunteer. Vastly different books. One a mystery and the other very much literary fiction. They had nothing in common, except that one evening the two main characters met in a park in Savannah. Just in passing. The detective—a young woman disguised as an older woman with a limp—and the vagrant—a homeless man wandering from town to town looking for handouts.
The scene is very different depending on whose point of view.
I found the park and the bench where they met—all places that I’d researched and described, but had never seen in real life. I even bought a Savannah rose and kept it on the dash of my truck for months.
And that brought me to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.
I chuckled as I passed Dollywood. I remembered Kenny Rogers being asked on a talk show once, “You’ve worked with Dolly Parton a lot. Tell us, are they real?” Kenny shook his head sadly. “No. They’re all wigs.” Well, the Dolly I knew from the Everglades was all real; I’d seen enough evidence of that. Probably 200 pounds worth. And enough to know that, even though she was flattered by my comments, she had no real interest in a swinging dick.
Val, on the other hand, had made it clear that she was.
As soon as I got myself camped, I sent her a text message.
And heard nothing back. That wasn’t unusual. I wasn’t sure she even knew where her phone was most days. Her number had changed twice since I’d met her a couple months earlier.
The next day was gray and miserable. I stayed in my trailer and spent the day writing. I’d started posting Living Next Door to Heaven in April and the response was good. It didn’t make any difference how people responded. I was committed to the project and was well into the writing of Part III: Foolish Wisdom. I was pumping out an unprecedented number of words each day and felt like I was draining them right out of my bloodstream.
The setting for LNDtH was based on my childhood home. Many of the characters had a basis in some little detail I remembered from that time—a name I particularly liked, a characteristic, a fantasy, or even just a hair color. But the only one I’d seen since my freshman year in high school was Cassie, and that was for an hour over a strawberry shortcake in Florida. Oh. I’ll add that I’d seen Hannah. She came to my mother’s funeral and gave me a sweet hug. Our parents had been very close. I hadn’t seen her since sixth grade and I still had a crush on her. I made a bunch of shit up out of grade school memories and transposed people I’d met much later in life into that same story. I’m sorry to say that the Life of Aroslav wasn’t as good as the Life of Brian. But I can dream, can’t I?
The next day, I decided that, rain or no rain, I was going to drive up into Smoky Mountains National Park and walk along the Appalachian Trail. It was still pretty damp and I understood why the place was called the Smokies. They looked like they had a constant shroud of smoke that turned them blue, even when you were right up in them. Nonetheless, they had a wild beauty that I loved.
I stepped out of the truck at one of the parking areas and took a walk along the Appalachian Trail. One of my nephews had walked the entire trail a few years back, and I was envious. I walked out a mile or so and then hiked back. When I got in the truck, I checked my phone, just to see if I had any messages, and discovered that I didn’t have a signal. Of course, I wouldn’t have one anyplace in the National Park. I continued my exploration and came out on the other side of the park.
As soon as I hit the little town on the south side, my phone chimed. I had a signal and I had a message from Val. “tried to cll u no answer. in pf anyway where u?” The message had been sent over an hour ago.
“Went to park. I’m an hour away. You still there?”
My daughter always makes fun of my text messages and Facebook posts because I talk in complete sentences, use capitals, and punctuate things. I guess that makes me an old fart. It had taken me a few minutes to figure out Val’s message. No response. I turned toward the Interstate and headed back to Pigeon Forge.
My phone chimed again as I was coming to the long strip of restaurants and ‘shows’ that make up the town. Things like ‘Noah’s Flood. Experience the Biblical thrill!’ I could imagine one that said, ‘Crucifixion and Resurrection: Feel the nails like Jesus did.’ Since I had been to the national park, I figured I’d leave the commercial district behind tomorrow.
“came bak at walmart”
I pulled to the side of the road and sent a message back. “Ten minutes away. Be there soon.”
I was beginning to wonder about how much effort it was taking to hook up with Val, but I was also thinking of her hard nipples between my fingers. She wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world. Her teeth were crooked, but it looked like she had them all. I’d seen plenty of women in the past couple months who didn’t. She probably packed fifteen extra pounds on her short frame, but that had just made her feel squishy beneath my fingers. I was thinking all this as I pulled into the Walmart parking lot and spotted her standing by her car staring at her phone. No, not a beauty queen, but I was nobody’s idea of a hunk.
“Hey,” I said, stepping out of the truck.
“Hey. I’m hungry. I been trying to find you all afternoon.”
That was abrupt, but I could understand. She gave me a quick hug and waited for me to open the door of the truck for her. I drove us across the street to Black Angus and we ate a big meal. With a bottle of wine.
I paid the tab and tried to figure out what I could cut out of my budget next week.
“Well, show me your trailer,” she said. “Where you parked?” I took her to the trailer and let her inside. She was like a puppy, sniffing at everything and opening all the doors and drawers to look inside. She finally turned around, smashed her body up against mine and kissed me. “You want my clothes off or want to do it like this?” she asked.
It might have been better if I’d left her clothes on, but I like skin contact. Now that we were in the trailer, she seemed to be in a hurry. She got onto the bed and spread her legs. She was a little stubbly, but mostly shaved. I stuck my fingers in and she was plenty wet. Still, in the interest of primary research, I figured I’d get her revved by licking for a while. She grabbed me by the ears and hauled me up on top of her.
“I get licked. I don’t get dicked. Put a raincoat on that sucker and shove it in!”
I certainly had no intentions of entering that cavern unprotected. I had condoms right next to the bed. I dressed and shoved.
“Yeah, baby. Give me that cock. Fuck! I haven’t been fucked by a cock in a year. Fuck it! Oh gawd, yes.” Her hips drove up to meet me like she was a pneumatic drill. She talked a steady stream of filth about fucking her cunt and biting her titties. As she got closer and closer, her accent became thicker and thicker until I could hardly understand her at all. I think I caught something about slamming that dog into this bitch. It could have been something completely different. It made no difference. She was coming and I was coming and that’s all she wrote.
Literally.
As soon as I was out of her sopping cunt, she was out of bed and dressing.
“I gotta get home! I work in the morning and I’ll be dead tired. Will you take me back to my car?” she asked. I pulled on my jeans and T-shirt and shoved my bare feet into my boots.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m glad you came down. Sorry it was so rushed.”
“Well, it cost me a bundle, too. You mind putting gas in my car?” That was a reasonable request, I suppose. She gathered up a bunch of toiletries and a candy bar in the convenience store and asked if I’d mind just adding those to the gas. The clerk already had it rung up and I’m just not the kind of guy that makes a big scene about things. She gave me a quick kiss at her car and jumped in to drive off. “See you this weekend, baby?” she said as she drove off. I didn’t have time to answer. I looked at the receipt in my hands for $85. I hadn’t known it was possible to spend that much at a convenience store gas station.
Early the next morning, I sent Val a text message after I got the trailer hitched and was relatively certain that she couldn’t catch up with me.
“Driving up the Blue Ridge Parkway today. Headed on north. See you next time!”
I didn’t get a response for several weeks. When she contacted me again, she was complaining about her miserable financial condition because of a doctor bill and wouldn’t I send her money so she could come and join me on the road?
A Long Time Ago: Succubus
When Anabel Lee and I got together, I was hopelessly in lust and would do anything for her that she asked. What she asked for was usually diamonds. Or a bigger house. Or a new car. Or art. Or clothes. Lots and lots of clothes. She was a user and I was an addict. She drove me into bankruptcy and I was still hanging on to her. Until Susie, her best friend, invited me out to talk one night. That talk ended up with a skinny dip in Lake Harriet. Oh, it was all innocent. I wasn’t going to fuck Susie. If it had been Marla, that would have been different, but not Susie, even though the offer was clearly on the table. Or in the water. Still, I had no problems feeling up the offered bare tits and chewing on her nipples while we treaded water.
The next morning, Susie told Belle all about how I’d made a pass at her and it was all she could do to keep me from fucking her. Belle went ballistic. I think she’d been waiting for the opportunity and the more I thought back on it, the more I suspected that they had planned it all out together. I should have fucked the bitch. It really pissed me off.
Don’t piss off an addict.
Belle came to my office and read me out loudly enough for my coworkers to hear. Then she stormed out. I went to my boss’s office and told him I had to go take care of some personal business. Dan just shook his head. I don’t think Belle was expecting me to catch a bus and follow her home. After all, she had our only car. I walked into the house to find her laughing with Susie in the living room.
“Pack your shit and get out of my house,” I said. She looked up at me like I was an alien.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked. I almost pulled a Rhett Butler and said, ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.’ I desisted.
“Why don’t you get some good advice from your friend?” I asked, pointing at Susie. “I’m sure she’s got room at her house. Just get the fuck out of mine.”
I went back to work. I should have stayed and monitored the departure, but instead, I worked late and went out to dinner with Marla. After dinner, we went out for a walk around Lake Calhoun and I ended up sprawled under a tree in the dark getting the best blowjob I’d had since high school. Belle gagged just licking my cock.
When I got back to the house, around ten p.m., it was empty. It hadn’t taken her long to clear out everything she could carry. All the artwork was off the walls. All the dishes were out of the cupboards. All the books, magazines, and newspapers were gone. The bed was gone. The dining table was gone.
My office was untouched. In the living room, my stereo and CDs were untouched. In the kitchen, she’d left my coffee pot. Other than that, even the refrigerator was empty.
I about had my newly-divorced life back together six months later when she called me.
“Hey, Ari. How are you doing? Say, honey, I’m trying to get into a new apartment and I need a little cash for the deposit. Can you help me out, honey? I could come over for a while, you know.”
I have absolutely no objections to any kind of sex if it’s consensual. Non-consensual sex is not sex. It’s rape. Rape is not about sex. It’s not about a girl (or a boy) just asking for it because of the way she is dressed. It is a crime of power and violence. Don’t give me any crap about it being non-consensual sex. RAPE. Call it by name.
As I was saying, I have absolutely no objections to any kind of sex, even when it’s paid for if neither party is being coerced. Belle was a hell of a good lay when she was sane. But some pussies just aren’t worth the price of admission.
“I think it’s time you found someone else to mooch from, Belle,” I said. “Don’t call me again.”
Back to Val
“I know just what you mean,” I texted Val. “I had a dental bill last month that just wiped me out! Hope you can get back on your feet. I’m thinking of you.”
I never heard from her again.
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