Thursday, September 29, 2005

Girls of the Past - C

C

I first met C when I was 13 or 14, as we were in band together. She had a younger sister who was her exact opposite. C felt like a mother before she was a mother. She was nurturing and kind, always seeming to stand up for people. Plus, she had a certain quality about her, I can’t really define it.

I always harbored somewhat of a crush on her, although I was not always aware of it.

I ran into her in a video store after graduation and we had a great, long talk and now that I had finally realized how to talk to women, I thought, I should pursue this. And she ended this conversation by saying that she was going out with M, one of my best friends since grade school. Which is odd, because he and I were great friends, and I think I knew they were dating, but didn’t know how serious. Maybe I just don’t pay attention, which is probably true.

Regardless, I grew to be great friends with both of them. I was in their wedding party and frequently attended parties, almost weekly, at their small apartment. She was the first woman I ever met who kept erotica in the bathroom, or anywhere for that matter.

I remember one drunken conversation about why he never wanted to touch her and it made me angry, as angry as I could get in my numb, constantly trying to escape any feeling youth.

We lost track when D and I broke up. I think in the back of my head I resented her for staying friends with D. I don’t know. I also think I wanted to escape my hometown and become a new person after L and I broke up.

Whatever happened, all I ever got from her were letters for birthdays. Then, I heard that she and M were divorcing. I knew they had problems for years. I called and talked to her for awhile and she sounded rougher voiced, but still the same person I knew, always working her ass off, always making things better for people, a mother to the end, but now with a son of her own and getting rid of M, because she realized finally that she could never change what his family and DNA made him.

All in all, it’s rather sad.

That said, in some small town of 8,000 people, there was one girl I knew who wanted more from lovemaking than thirty seconds in the backseat and read and wrote about it. I’m sure there are more. But she was the first one I met.

Girls of the past - L

(I wrote all of these for a now defnct Live Journal. I'm presenting them as is, I'm sure I'll write more someday.)

I was remembering the past, again, forgive me, past.

Picking me up at the alien flat airport, showing me that she had been wearing garters and hose all day, was it blue? Or purple? Or pink? Time has erased all the memories of color and shade, but not the flat farmlands spilling out in front of us, able to see for miles, a direct contrast to my mountaineous upbringing.

It seemed like the world could continue forever. That we could continue forever.

Dusty wheels rolling. hand sliding skirt to reveal bare thigh, colored strap contrasting with tanned leg, no panties, no shame, drive on.

(real world me now seeing this in less poetic prose)
When I met my ex in Kansas to take her back here, life seemed so perfect. Me against the world, with her. It seemed like perfection, I couldn't wait to get her back to her dad's house and throw her down on the bed and take her. We'd been talking about it for months. As it was, her whole family was there to meet me, but I made sure, when we went into her room, my fingers took seconds to find her.

I carry fond memories of that two days before the bottom dropped out.

Laying in bed, all the windows open, both naked, the only light a radio playing impossibly great music and her lit cigarettes, one after the other, illuminating her face, short hair, small, perky breasts.

i wish sometimes I could live in those two days.

It's odd, probably my Catholic upbringing, but I was so worked up the last day, she was at work, I jerked off in her bathroom and I was sure that's what screwed it up, that I somehow disrupted nature by doing that there.

I guess you have to understand. I'm crazy sometimes. And I wanted some rational explanation for those two days, why everything was so perfect.

I guess the explanation is that thousands of miles of phone cords made everything seem better than it was.

Who knows.

(ANOTHER VERSION)

I almost got married to L.

A long time ago.

I was young, in love, she was the first girl I ever had sex with. I can be such a romantic at times.

I met her late at the night at the gym. I didn't know then she was a stripper, that she did porn, that she had sex with numerous guys at bachelor parties, that she'd take $100 to fuck a guy.

A question you never want to ask someone you love is how much it costs to fuck them.

But the sex? Intrinsically, the crazier and more messed up in the head someone is, the better the sex, so I have learned. If it wasn't blowjobs in the middle of St. Louis traffic or her masturbating and putting on a show for people as we drove, it was her asking me to mount her face and use her mouth like a cunt. Her words, not mine.

Maybe I see the past through rosier glasses, but a lot of what she did now feels like a movie that didn't happen to me, happened to someone else.

I was lucky to escape with my life. And sanity. She had literally seven VDs on her last test, and I luckily got none of them.

I remember the first night we had sex, she was on her period and even so, I still wanted her so badly. I remember I had to fill out all this paperwork for some relationship test she had set up for us, and she wouldn't let me touch her until I finished. She kept spreading those muscular thighs of hers, showing me her shaved mound, spreading and unspreading. I think I've been horney ever since.

We almost got back together once. We spent all night together and she dropped me off and in the morning, my car broke down. I took it to a garage and I saw a car that looked a lot like hers. I asked the guy at the garage, do you know her? And he told me they do coke with her, fuck her when she passes out and use her car.

So needless to say, the reunion was unsuccessful.

(AND MORE)

I was thinking more of my post about L from yesterday.

I remember, at one point in our relationship, she mentioned that I didn’t fulfill her because I was trying to remain a virgin. Stupid me, I know, but then she bragged about how she’d blown some guy while he had a chain around her neck and led her all around the house on it, all the things and experimentation she’d done.

And now, I’ve probably done more than her, experienced a lot more and with a lot more giving people, who were willing to open up to me and show me, help me, guide me.

And that’s what’s it’s all about, I suppose.

She was never wrong, always so sure of herself, but so wrong.

I can’t even masturbate thinking about her anymore. I haven’t for over a year.

The hardest thing one has to do is kill off the love or lust someone feels for someone, because they know it will hurt them.

Girls of the past - D

What I'm trying to do is look back on the women (trust me, there aren't many) of my past, and share some remembrances of them.

Little things I remember about her, purely purient:

She had the largest breasts of any girl i have ever been with. Literally, 38D or larger, with thick nipples, large brown areolas. I could orgasm just rubbing the head of my cock against her nipple. Wistful, remembering what it felt like to be between those, or watching them fall when she bent over, looking between her thighs as they hung down, begging for touch.

First girl I did a lot with. My greatest memory is her getting of the tub, no parents, riding my face, her thighs hot from the steam of washing, clean smelling and her fucking my face...and then the surprise of her mouth on my cock.

She loved to suck cock, more than any girl I've ever met, demanding we do it in front of open windows so cars going past could see, doing it in parking lots of malls...never wanted to go near the conclusion of her act, but just the same, she would beg to do it. She'd confess that she'd be imagining it all day.

Once, she tied my cock with her pantinhose, still wet from sweat of a summer day, and stoked me off into them.

Once, I remember her bent over, her thick, full ass covered in white panties as we teenage dry humped. I couldn't stand it any longer, pulled down my boxers and rubbed my naked cock across her satin pantied ass, coming so hard it ended in her thick, curly brown hair.

We did everything but...because I wasn't ready at the time and I don't know if she ever understood.

My song with her was "Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns" by Mother Love Bone. An old Seattle band. lead singer died from heroin. A few of the guys went on to be in Pearl Jam. Unfortunately.

Anyways, this popped up on iTunes this morning. Just now, as a matter of fact.

It's not like it's the kind of song you'd just end up hearing on the radio, so I don't remember this person all that much.

That said, i was remembering her the other day when I heard a Deep Forest song. We had this bet once that I'd have sex with her if it came on the radio next on the cheesy Hot 101 station out of Youngstown. God, I hated that fucking station. And I hated this person, I hated myself.

I was young. Dumb. I didn't want to have sex, I wanted to stay a virgin. She used to try to get me to have sex with her. We did everything but. But every night, same deal. I guess you could look at it that I was stupid. She was certainly attractive and we had been togetehr for awhile. But.

She didn't respect my boundaries.

One time, she made me put on a condom becasue she thought it would be hot. And it was, until she got on top of me and tried to slide it inside of her.

I wasn't upset at the time. But now, when I think about it, if I had been another gender and someone had tried to have sex with me like that, I'd feel like I was raped. I felt weird on the way home. I wanted to have sex, but not like that. That kind of drove my resolve not to sleep with her.

I'm still not sure how I feel about the whole thing. Even now, 12 or years later or so.

And here's where we go from there.

I was raised in a pretty open household, with the exception of anything about sex. It just was never mentioned. Never.

Not even today.

I learned everything there was on my own. I haven't really learned much (except that I tend to use I a lot when describing my own personal situations, but really, what choice?).

Today, I'm married, happily, with an exception. My wife has been ill for years and the medicines that keep her alive sap her sex drive. We're lucky to make love more than a few times in a year. Otherwise, it's all rather fulfilling, but my sexual mind is alive and evil and seeking prey.

This leads one to the dilemna...I don't ever want to be one of those cheating husbands, but I need some form of release...and not just sitting there watching porn, which the majority of which makes me sick in the way it presents women. I also need some other input, because I feel alone enough at times as it is.

Well, that was quite introspective. I hope it gets moreso.

Start with the beginning, really.

Who am I? Hopefully, we'll both discover that in time.

I feel like there is a side of me that gets hidden from the rest of the world. Thoughts that may be impure, thoughts that one would not speak, actions that one get one in trouble. There is an outlet here, a place to write about how I feel, the things I want…it’s much easier exploring them in fantasy than in the havoc that reality would cause.

And in my experience, fantasy is at times so much better than reality.