NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a
story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first
post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.
I stared at my laptop's display for a couple minutes, terrified to open Gina's e-mail,
yet knowing that I would surely not sleep if I didn't.
So, at last it opened and I read it: "I took Belinda to a specialist recommended by one
of Ray's doctor clients. After a manual examination and an X-ray, he declared that it
was unlikely to be malignant, but he recommended excising it to be sure. He said it would
leave a hairline scar at most. So...isn't that good news?
"We're bushed and have checked into a hotel. The surgery will be done in his office (it's
that simple!) and she'll be kept there for an hour afterward under observation. After that,
we'll catch up with you guys wherever you happen to be. Love, Gina."
I have to tell you, I didn't even reach the end of the first paragraph before I burst
into tears of joy, for more than you can imagine, I identified with Belinda and wanted to hear
some good news.
I knocked on both Kelsey's and Cliff's doors. I pulled them
both into a three-way hug and told them the news, that Belinda's lump seemed to be benign
and would be removed in just a few hours just to be sure.
They were both glad beyond words.
This is when I realized I was indeed topless and covered my tits with my hands. Kelsey laughed
at me and Cliff, with raised eyebrows (and while staring at my hands) said, "Too late, sis!"
Then we all had a big laugh and I let my hands down. So he saw my tits. Big deal!
With that, we went back to bed and while I can't speak for them, I slept long and hard,
dreaming of fields of wildflowers shimmering in a languorous breeze under a deep blue
sky populated by the occasional puffy cloud.
Cliff and Kelsey had been waiting for me for about 30 minutes, I learned, and we had
a small late breakfast together of danishes, bacon, and coffee. We decided to hit the
road again. It seemed to us (and I'm sure even more to you, the reader) that we had
been on the road forever. Would we never reach Portland?
With the help of some of NW's staff and even NW himself, we packed our stuff into the
bus, including Belinda and Gina's things. NW and Hilda had been informed of the good
news regarding Belinda and were joyous for her, too. So it was a really emotional farewell
as Kelsey, Cliff, and I hugged NW and hopped into the bus.
I took the wheel and before long were were on our way to our next destination: Lake
Tahoe. I had never been there, but from the photos I'd seen, it was certainly one of the
top five or so most beautiful locations in the United States.
The 450 mile drive took about 9 hours what with a brief dinner stop.
Ray's company got us a suite of attached rooms Caesar's Palace. Those accommodations probably
wouldn't have been available to us otherwise. We might have stayed in the bus, had we been
able to find a place to park, but that was in doubt as it was still ski season there and
parking was severely limited by mounds of snow.
We had dinner in a hotel restaurant and spent an uneventful night watching movies and
drinking before going to bed in our respective rooms. Cliff, an inexperienced drinker,
got sloshed on three beers. Hahahaha!
I woke up after a few hours of sleep to be greeted by the orange glow of dawn.
I got up and went over to the window,
for a moment or two drinking in the beauty of this locale which, in the United States,
I'd rate second only to the Grand Tetons in terms of sheer sylvan
beauty. I got up, closed the blinds and slept a few more hours until Kelsey knocking
on my door awakened me.
"Planning on sleeping all day?" I looked at the nearby clock. It was 11:45! Rubbing my eyes,
I replied. "Sorry." "Cliff and I have been having coffee for the last hour and a half,
waiting for you to wake up. Get ready, let's have lunch and figure out what to do with
the day." "Cool," I said, waving her away. "I'll be out in a jiff."
Over lunch we perused the literature cliff had amassed about activities in the area,
which this time of year mostly had to do with skiing, snowboarding, snowmobiling,
and so on. We settled on snowboarding and after a few calls found a place that would
rent us the gear.
Now, I'm no snow bunny. Yeah, in high school I went with friends a couple times and skied
some not very steep slopes in Pennsylvania, mostly spending time falling on my face or ass.
So...I wasn't looking forward to this very much since I was sure that snowboarding was,
if anything, harder than skiing.
I was right about that, but it was new to Kelsey as well. Cliff, who had done it
before, was much better and helped us quite a bit, but soon our struggles got the
attention of a young guy who introduced himself as Ross (first name? last name? who
knows?
To say that Roth was hot would be an understatement. Who did he look like? Kind of
like Justin Timberlake, only very blond. Slender but athletic. Kelsey looked at me and
smiled, knowing exactly what was on my mind. Cliff...he was totally oblivious; probably
thinking more of Faith than anything else, because at his age every encounter seems
pivotal and every relationship, however brief, seems destined to end in a walk
down the aisle.
He worked with us for a half hour or so until Kelsey pretty much had the hang of it
and Cliff, who was already fairly good, was looking semipro. I'm afraid I wasn't trying
that hard because I wanted some 1-on-1 tutoring.
When Roth finally suggested that Cliff and Kelsey go off on their own so he could
concentrate on me, they agree, Kelsey doing so with a suppressed chuckle. We all had our
cell phones with us, so we agreed we'd get back together later on in the day.
Roth seemed oblivious to my plan, so when I drifted off the edge of the hill and
into the woods (don't worry: I had more control than I was letting on to Roth), he
followed me. I had fallen into the snow and was laying on my face. I felt him grab
the collar of my jacket to lift me up. "Okay?" he asked. "Yeah," I said.
Finding myself on my knees in front of him, I made an attempt to get up but intentionally
lost my balance and ended up falling forward and hugging his upper thighs to keep from
falling. This put my mouth right over his cock. I regained my balance and looked up
at him, still hugging his thighs. He laughed and asked, "Having fun?"
I laughed and said, "Not as much as I'd like to have. Ummm... Mind if I suck your dick?"
This took him aback, I could see. "Don't say know," I said, adding "that could be pretty
humiliating." He laughed and said, "Actually, you must be a mind reader!"
And so I opened the fly of his pants and stuck my tongue inside. Feeling underwear,
I stuck a finger in and pulled it down. Out popped a gorgeous cock. Not a huge cock,
but a very pretty one. About 7" inches long, I could deep throat it without choking.
I sucked for a minute or two enjoying the change in texture and taste in my mouth
as the first seminal fluid (aka "precum") came into my mouth, along with the slightly
salty taste that always accompanies it.
I must have sucked for about five minutes when he said, "Want to fuck?" "Absolutely!"
I said, pulling my own pants and undies down to my ankles, suddenly finding my bare
ass laying on packed snow. Seeing my distress, he removed his jacket and helped me
get it under me. Soon, he was in me and fucking me hard. We did a lot of tongue-wrestling
along the way.
Deciding to give this cute hunk something special, I pushed him off me and onto his
back and, sucking him off again, I stuck my finger up his ass and massaged his prostate
while blowing him and jacking him off.
When, presently, his load filled my mouth with semen, I myself came. One of the
few times I've ever had an orgasm from circumstances alone, with no direct physical
stimulation at or around the vagina. It was strong enough that I felt myself
squirt.
"Wow!" he said as he pulled his pants up, "that was something else. I wouldn't mind
a little more of that."
Well, fun it had been, but I am quite practical about such things, and while I said
that sounded great, I really had no intention of turning a little escapade like this
into a big "thing." In no way am I ready for the little cottage with a white picket
fence around the yard, 2.5 kids in the yard playing with their puppy and kitty cat.
In fact, I have my doubts that anything like that is in my future. By choice.
He told me where he was staying and to make it harder for him to catch up with me
later, I told him a lie about staying at a hotel across the lake from Caesar's
Palace. He then told me his intended agenda for the evening, and I made a mental
note to avoid those places.
When we got back to the hotel, guess who was waiting for us? Okay, you've probably
guessed it was Gina and Belinda, with good news: indeed, the lump in Belinda's breast
was not malignant. Belinda pulled open the collar of her sweater to show a tiny
scar with just about three stitches. I could believe that in a year or two, after
completely healing, it would just be a hairline scar and would not deform her in
any way.
We took turns hugging Belinda and telling her how glad we were that this had
turned out well. She still seemed a little gloomy, though, and we had to remind
ourselves of something she, doubtless, could not easily put out of her mind:
that not only had she been disowned by her family over the love of her life, but
that her lover had then died in a horrible accident.
We ended up having dinner across the state line at a restaurant we could walk
to, after which we gathered in my room and watched a couple movies before going
to bed.
The next morning, as we'd arranged, we met downstairs for breakfast. Belinda was
the last to show. She explained that she had received a call just as she was
leaving her room. She was being summoned back to Italy. Why? we all asked almost
in unison. "For the reading of the wills."
Are you going? we asked in our various ways. Her eyes flooded with tears. "I...I
don't know. I'm almost out of money." Now, I know what you're thinking: Gina could
certainly arrange to fly her there, through the executive jet company her boyfriend
Ray owns. But I could feel that Belinda was starting dread prevailing on her friend
for yet another big favor.
This is when Kelsey pulled an envelope out of her purse. I recognized it from
two nights earlier, when we had made $1000 screwing the cowboy in the downtown
casino hotel.
"Jill and I won this," she lied. "We have decided that you need it far more than
we do." "I can't..." Belinda started to say, but I shushed her and said, "It no
longer belongs to us. We just gave it to you. Go to Italy. It's worth $1000 to
us just to find out what's going on.
Belinda wept openly. "You've all been such good friends." Cliff took her hand and
put his arm around her shoulder.
After breakfast, I took Belinda to a nearby bank and we wired the $1000 to her account.
When the transfer had been completed, we went to my room and I helped her arrange
the trip for her return to Italy, which to my surprise, still left her with a few
hundred dollars.
The trip would begin at Reno, take her to Las Vegas, then New York, and from there
to Milano (Milan). From there, she would take a bus to Como. She would be staying
with an older cousin of Franco, and her husband. She had to be in Reno in six hours, the bus ride is about two,
so she packed and we saw her onto the bus to Reno. We crossed our fingers and wished
her the best. And it was no pro forma wish: We all loved her and hoped she
was going to hear some good news. Perhaps she'd been left something.
After seeing Belinda off, we gathered our stuff and got into the bus. There, we
sat down with a bunch of maps and decided to push on to Medford, Oregon. (Oregon!
at last!) It was about 300 miles, which on a flat highway would take about 5.5 to
6 hours. Through mountains in a bus, and with a couple scenery stops where we
jumped out of the bus to take some photos, it turned out to be about 8.
We found a friendly bar, pulled into their parking lot for the night, and went inside
for some hamburgers and beers. We played cards that night, speaking little of
our unlucky friend. In fact, we spoke so little of her precisely because she was
all we could think about. After we made ready for bed, and as we were all
drifting off to sleep, Gina wondered aloud, "I wonder where Belinda is about
now?"
I did some mental calculations and said, "I believe she's somewhere over the Atlantic.
She should be in Italy before we wake up."
That night, I thought of Belinda and all she had been through. That made me sad.
Finally being in Oregon, though, was making me happy. In one day, I'd finally be
in Portland starting to look for a new home.
With that contradictory blend of feelings churning around in my head, I somehow
managed to get to sleep.
A new day was dawning in so many ways.
More Pussy Than I Could Possibly Lick
In A Million Years
SapphicErotica must be a huge organization to be putting up lesbian videos and
photos at the rate they do. I mean...it's just astonishing! And Sapphic chicks are
so unlike the Met-Art and Hegre girls. They truly look like American "girl next door" girls,
though someone told me most of them are actually from The Czech Republic, Hungary,
The Slovak Republic, Russia and other Eastern European places, and that the locations
are all there as well. Go figure. They look like American girls to me!
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Feminists Backing John McCain? WTF?!!!
(my involuntary rant on misguided feminism)
Here's another reason (among many) the "feminists" bug me. There's talk among
feminists of backing McCain.
Yes...Hillary lost to Barack Obama. Yes, he did call a reporter "sweetie."
Did he fuck her in The Oval Office, like Hillary's husband did? No! There's
no evidence he doesn't like women or thinks their just a blowjob on legs.
Both candidates are human.
As for the Michigan/Indiana primary votes question, Hillary's Army seems
put out that the outcome didn't favor Hillary 100%. But, let's face it:
this was a problem caused by renegade democratic committies in those states
to start with. Naturally, one expects Obama's supporters to push for one
result and Hillary's supporters to push for another. Just as naturally,
that the ultimate outcome was a compromise is no surprise, either. What is
surprising is how rude her supporters were at the Rules Committee hearing
and how bitter they were that the Committee didn't just roll over for them.
If you believe in Democracy, you understand that it's all about compromise
and waiting your turn. Hillary's turn may come in four or eight years,
but not if her supporters continue to make asses out of themselves and
threaten not to play at all if they don't like the score. The following
pardigmatic old-school feminist Hillary supporter can't seem to grasp the
plain fact that a lot of women prefer Barack Obama over Hillary Clinton,
and not only because they like his looks. She, for better or worse,
represents old politics many of us want thrown out of Washington.
Study after study has shown that women will not automatically vote for
a candidate based on sex, and many of us (and I'm not taking sides here)
actually prefer having men in leadership roles. That's a reality.
It's the way it is.
All that aside, for me, the astounding main message
is that, sooner than anyone thought possible, a
racial minority or a woman can be taken seriously for the Presidency
by one of the major parties, and that party certainly isn't the Republican Party.
My dad is blown away. Thought he'd never live long enough to see either.
He's so proud of his country. Great Britain is smug about the way it has
absorbed its Indian and Pakistani minority, but how soon do you think it
will be that an Indian or Pakistani will be considered for Prime Minister?
They could surprise us, I suppose, but don't hold your breath!
And before you ask why I'm not quoting my mom, it's because, like many
women, she's simply not very political. The feminists, who are radicals,
seem to believe they can get women voting as a bloc. The trouble is, almost
all of them are urban women. If they would bother to visit towns in places
like rural Ohio, Kansas, or Nebraska, they'd discover how far away they
are from having a bloc like that. For any woman to become President, she'll
have to appeal to men as well. Not on a sexual level, which to my
shame is the appeal Obama has to many women, but as someone who can make
hard choices like dealing with 9/11-like situations. Someone who can stomach
sending bombers out on missions that will likely kill innocents collaterally.
We're talking someone along the lines of a Golda Meier or a Margaret Thatcher.
Men would vote for a female like that, but not one who is cute.
I might add here that a lot of women have never forgiven Hillary for her
famous cookie baker comment in which she seemed to dismiss housewives as
irrelevant. Come to think ot it, my own apolitical mom, who, while she has had a few
part-time jobs in teaching or library work, was almost always there to welcome me home after school,
frequently with some nice, warm freshly-baked cookies...she always looks
at Hillary with disdain whenever she appears on TV. She says nothing, but
I can feel her disgust in the air.
I also think that Hillary's voice, a shrill and nasal monotone, has never
worked in her favor. Gina thinks her voice is just a notch more pleasant
than the sound of a dentist drill. She also lacks taste to a painful degree
on occasion, as when she adopted the brogue of a poor southern black while
addressing a black audience:
I read somewhere once that what characterizes all radicalism, left or
right is that it values purity above victory. In other words, it's
a form of obsession. Compromise, they feel, leaves you with dirty hands.
Better to lose than give everyone involved some satisfaction. Better
to wait until you can convert everyone to your cause. Which is why
radical politics fails so frequently.
But let's take a look at what a McCain victory would mean.
Do you value your abortion rights, ladies? You have no ally in John McCain.
Do you value your online freedom to read and see what you like? Do you, like
me, feel that porn, literary or pictorial, is merely masturbation material
and that it's harmless? Well, that view isn't the Republican view. They feel
that the Internet is something threatening that needs governmental control.
Funny how they feel choice and lack of governmental interference
is what's important in health care, but quite the opposite is what's called
for on the Internet.
The Republicans talk about how the Internet promotes rape and destroys the
family, but let's face it: if a guy has masturbated, he's in no mood to rape
anyone. Porn probably prevents far more rapes than it promotes. And as for
the destruction of the family, why do Republicans fight tooth and nail to
prevent us from taking time off from work to care for children or ill
relatives?
Health care is another issue you can't rely on Republicans to help us with.
McCain's notion is that what we need is more choices and tax credits.
If anything demonstrates how out of touch the Republicans are with the
reality so many of us live, that lays it bare.
The problem many have, especially those freelancing in the arts, is no
healthcare, which I suppose is the ultimate "lack of choice." I know a freelancer
who says, "I can choose between having affordable health care that really is
just coverage for catastrophes, because it only kicks in after I've spent
quite a bit of money, and then the copays are ridiculous, which makes
it impossible to afford regular office visits, tests, and the ongoing health
maintenance everyone needs. Or...you can do what I do which is to forgo insurance
and take care of paying for ongoing health maintenance trusting that if something
catastrophic happens, I'll be one of the many who gets treated in the Emergency
Room making rates higher for those who do have insurance. One thing Sicko
taught me is that even if you do have health
insurance, there's no guarantee they will pay anyway."
If you haven't seen Sicko, the Michael Moore documentary on the
American health care fiasco, rent it. It will open your eyes.
Prisoners at Guantanamo may be abused by their guards, but if injured, they
are guaranteed better health care than millions of Americans have.
Quite frankly, talk of a Hillary VP nomination aside (I think it won't
happen), we could get the best of both worlds as far as health care and other
issues we care about with a strong Democratic win in November putting
Barack in the White House and leaving Hillary in the Senate to shepherd
a proposal for a national health care system through.
Anyway, I hope this is my one and only rant at the feminists about the upcoming
election.
But...you never know...
Friday, May 30, 2008
Hope And Faith
The Trip West, Pt. XV
NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a
story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first
post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.
Apparently, Belinda and I were the last to wake up. It was nearly 10 a.m. We got up together
and showered together. I gave her the full treatment, washing her hair and her body, after which
she did the same for me.
After we were both clean, we toweled off. She caught me looking at that breast. The one with
the lump. She took my hand and put it where I could feel it. I would guess it was about as
far around as a dime and it seemed round, like a marble only smaller, with a circumference
about the same as a dime's. Anyway, as I touched it I got goosebumps. Was this all there was,
as I fervently hoped, or was it evidence that the shadow of death was spreading all through
her sublime body?
At 10:45 or so, we found everyone waiting for us in the smaller of NW's two dining rooms,
which was more family size than banquet size. Even so, there were still a few empty chairs
even with all of us there.
As we walked in, everyone's eyes were on Belinda. They all bore vague smiles which they
exaggerated momentarily as a kind of greeting. Some of them gave a tentative little wave
as well.
NW was there, too, and he said "Welcome, Belle." Gina, who was sitting next to him
spoke to him behind her hand, and he corrected himself by saying it again, "Welcome,
Belinda."
Cliff had held two seats next to him for Belinda and me, and I put her between us.
Probably not what he had expected, but clearly he and Belinda had developed a bit of
a rapport through their common nerdiness and I felt that she'd be comfortable being
between Cliff and me.
Knowing Gina, with the wealth and resources she had at her disposal, I was sure she was
working on something to help Belinda, and I was equally sure that Belinda wouldn't be
sleeping under any bridges despite being disinherited. She might not lead the life of
unbridled opulence she had grown accustomed to, but she could look forward to a comfortable life with
these good friends and more to come.
Assuming, of course, she would have a long life free of cancer.
(Strange, how quickly your attitude can change.
I've always resented the way I felt so helplessly attracted to her, making her the one
part of my life that seemed hopelessly out of control. Now...I didn't feel that at all.
I didn't even feel pity, despite her misfortunes. I felt a healthy sympathy
and, finally, a healthy and genuine love.)
After Hilda started bringing in the food, the mood normalized quite a bit and I found
Belinda and Cliff engaging in friendly small talk, which made me happy. As I had hoped, he was
taking her mind off her troubles.
It was becoming just like any other breakfast I'd had with these friends, comfortable
and jovial and without the "elephant in the room" of Belinda's overwhelming trials and
tribulations. Whatever lay ahead, she would not be alone.
After breakfast, as Belinda and I were tidying up our respective rooms, I saw
Gina walk past my doorway at a nice clip, her cell phone flipped open, so I stuck my head
out and saw her go in to talk to Belinda.
Moments later, Gina appeared at my bedroom door, Belinda in tow, and said, "We're flying
to LA. Probably be back tomorrow." If it had been a pleasure trip, she would have
invited the rest of us to tag along. She did not, so I assume we would have simply slowed
her down.
NW had to go for the day, leaving the rest of us on our own. We were given one of NW's
cars to use and were told by Hilda "Not the Bentley, of course," which I'm sure had
little to do with its value (somewhere near $200,000) and more to do with it being his
personal toy.
We looked the menagerie over, which must have included about fifteen cars, and it was
Cliff who said simply, "gold Caddy!," and sure enough, down at one end of the garage was a
Cadillac. A Cadillac convertible from that era when cars had fins, and Cadillac fins were
the tallest and proudest of the lot. It was an old car, but it didn't look old. It looked like the
day it rolled off the assembly line. Even better! It looked like it had rolled off
the assembly line and straight into a detailing shop. The paint and chrome shone in an
almost spectral and otherworldly fashion. I could see from the gleam in Kelsey's eyes
that the Caddy was the car for her, too. And me, I was sold at first glance.
Elvis had a Caddy like this beauty, I believe.
The drive into town took about 20 minutes, and we parked near the strip, tipping
the attendant in advance to keep an eye on it. Kelsey and I
had probably been thinking about doing a little gambling, until Cliff asked quite
casually, "Am I old enough to go into a Casino? Is 18 old enough?"
We all stopped dead in our tracks. Kelsey looked at
me and said, "It's 21, isn't it?" I said, "Yes, it is." We had forgotten
all about that.
No casino that day. Neither Kelsey nor I would humiliate him by abandoning him in
one of those stupid rooms with video games for kids whose parents are gambling.
Nor would we drop him off in a mall while we played the slots.
We found a restaurant to snack in and over cold sandwiches decided to hit a movie.
That killed most of the afternoon. Then we decided to walk to downtown Vegas.
If you've never been to Vegas you may not realize that it has two gambling
centers. The "strip" is the new part of town with the huge casino hotels you
hear about: The Wynn, The Luxor, The Belagio, Mandalay Bay, and all
the rest of that luxurious ilk. Downtown is where you'll find the original Las Vegas
and a lot of the real gamblers. By this I mean the people who gamble professionally
as opposed to the vacation gamblers and so-called "whales' (big spenders).
So, we turned on our heels, had the baffled attendant get our car for us again
just minutes after he'd parked it, and we headed downtown, Kelsey at the wheel.
Downtown is small and seedy by comparison with the strip, which is not to say that the hotels are
small. They'd be large in most other cities, but while they are large, many of
the top ones on the strip are unbelievably vast, able to house several times as many people.
The main casino drag downtown is covered and the arched ceiling puts on a
light show after dark. Near the downtown drag is a very nice theater, so we
watched two movies.
By the time we left the theater,
it was early evening and we were getting hungry. We looked around
and found an Italian restaurant in one of the Casinos. It was plain and simple Italian
fare, which suited us fine. None of that "Swiss Italian stuff," as dad calls the
tomato-free Northern Italian fare.
The waitress was so cute. We chatted her up, discovering that she was just
18 herself, the same age as Cliff. She was attending UNLV. She was a short girl
with flowing blond hair that went halfway down her back. She wore short
shorts tight enough to show that she had an incredible ass. They also revealed
very shapely legs. In the boob department, I'm guessing she was a large A-cup,
or small B.
Her makeup was perfect for a girl serving food in a mid-priced
restaurant: very natural with just enough emphasis to highlight her eyelashes
and eyebrows. Natural blondes with blond body and eye hair can sometimes
look a little blah in the face without darkening the eyelashes and eyebrows
a bit. She did it just right. Not too dark. By contrast, her lips were out
and out Chinese red. She looked fabulous.
I wanted to do her myself, as did Kelsey. But poor Cliff could barely hide
his helpless attraction to this little demi-goddess. In my mind I
was afraid he'd lose control and say or do something nerdily outrageous.
But he managed to restrain himself. Even so, he did stumble a bit
through the ordering process, trying to act more worldly about food than he was.
When the little doll left, he realized Kelsey and I were both looking at him, barely
keeping ourselves from laughing out loud. We lost it when he looked back and
forth at us and said..."What?!" The smile she gave us when she heard us laugh told
me she understood. She'd picked up on his infatuation.
I was realizing how young and naive Cliff was. How much a prisoner of his adolescent
hormones he was. How every pretty girl caught his
attention and held him in her thrall. First it was the girl he had had trouble
with back in Cleveland, then Belinda, and now this little blond cutie.
Well, Belinda had the same effect on me. Quite unintentionally. So, I guess you're
never immune. He was still getting that attraction thing under control, though.
I wondered if he'd ever gotten laid. I doubted it.
Maybe we could fix that.
We had ordered spaghetti with meatballs, lasagne, and ricotta-filled ravioli to
be served "family style" in bowls, which came with a refreshingly crisp and
fresh bowl of salad and a basket full of ciabatta rolls with our choice of butter
or olive oil to go with them.
Continuing our repartee with the waitress, we discovered that
her name was Faith and that she was a psych major. Funny how young people think the world
needs more shrinks, and sometimes it's the most messed-up cases who seem to want
to become one. Well, Faith seemed mentally healthy enough, though being so attractive
hardly seemed an asset for someone delving into the depths of other people's psyches.
People with issues would likely find her looks a distraction.
It turned out that Faith was from Oregon. A city named Tigard, which is a suburb
of Portland. That gave us lots to talk about. She recommended places to go and
things to see and do, which was all quite fascinating. Despite being such a stunner,
she was quite down to earth. I thought she'd make a nice friend.
One surprise was that she turned out to be quite a sci-fi fan, which I was glad
for because it brought Cliff into the conversation and so, in bits and snatches
(for she had to serve other tables in addition to ours) they got into a conversation
about Battlestar Galactica, a show which I know has been getting good
reviews, but which I hadn't had time to get into. You see, I work, I write, I eat,
I eliminate what I eat, and I sleep. And whenever I can, I get myself laid.
Not much time for TV, but when I do watch
it, it tends to be nature shows.
She was about to get off work so we asked her if she had time to show us around
the area a bit, and she agreed. We offered to pay her, but she declined.
So, we waited out front for her for about 15 minutes while she finished off her shift.
When she joined us, she led us all around the downtown area, dutifully pointing out this
and that, offering little tidbits of trivia or history. At the same time, she and
Cliff kept wide-ranging discussion of sci-fi going. Clearly, they were
getting into each other.
That made me feel good, for here was a girl who was realistic, available, and
shared his interests. She also seemed quite kind and unlikely ever to abuse him
in any way. You know, there's a lot of talk about sex abuse by men, but women have
their ways of abusing men as well, and all under the veil of "You wouldn't hit a girl,
would you?"
I announced that Kelsey and I wanted to gamble, and even though I hadn't consulted
with her at all, Kelsey knew why I was doing it and went along with it as if I had.
We wanted to let Cliff be alone with this girl for a while and by wanting to go
where he and Faith couldn't follow (both being under the magic age of 21), we could
detach ourselves from them and let them enjoy each other for a while.
Assuming Faith went along, of course...
If Faith had prior plans for the evening, she said nothing. Clearly, she was interested
in Cliff, if not totally smitten. Perhaps she was merely entertained. Perhaps he
was making her panties damp. I couldn't tell. What was clear was that she didn't mind
spending more time with him.
We agreed to be in touch with Cliff later by cell phone, and so Kelsey and I went to the
nearest casino and decided to have a little fun. Sneaky fun.
I went to a poker table that had a couple empty chairs. Sitting there were a nice-looking
guy whose face was hidden under a cowboy hat and a chubby woman of about 50 whose
eyes were half closed and appeared ready to drift off at any moment.
I introduced myself. The cowboy looked up and smiled, held out his hand, and
said to call him Buck. The older woman's eyes widened a bit. "Sarah" was all she said.
Our dealer was an Asian woman of, I'd guess, 40. She spoke with an accent that hinted
at Chinese. When she spoke, which was only to do what the dealer does, there was no
hint of banter between her and the players at this table.
After a couple hands, along came Kelsey holding a glass of gin and tonic.
"Mind if I watch? What are you
playing?" Sarah said, "Texas Holdem." "I don't mind," said Buck, whose
eyes had definitely rested on Kelsey's deep cleavage a bit too long. I feigned simply
going along with the consensus, avoiding eye contact with my friend.
So, from then on, Kelsey clung to the cowboy's side, asked him questions, and assessing
the strength of his hands.
We had devised a code whereby Kelsey would pick one of the players and simply signal
if what she saw was good for the player (and thus hard for me to beat) by putting a finger to
her lip. If she saw he was bluffing, she would cross her arms. That player turned out
to be Buck, the cowboy.
It only gave me an advantage over one player and only a small advantage, so it took
a goodly number of hands for me to amass a large chip advantage. Buck still won a few
hands and Sarah certainly won her share. She was no worse off then before.
Buck said, "I think I'd like a drink. Maybe it'll change my luck." Kelsey jumped in
with, "Oh, what do you guys want? I'll get you all drinks for letting me watch
and helping me learn." We all placed our drink orders and she was off.
We played two more hands while she was gone.
As Kelsey distributed the drinks, Sarah looked at Kelsey first and then me saying,
"And so...how long have you gals known each other? And don't tell me you
just met here at this table tonight!"
The dealer laughed for the first time and Buck looked around with a "WTF?" expression
on his face.
The dealer got very serious all of a sudden and said, "I can have the both of you thrown
out. Maybe worse."
"Aw," said Buck, "they was just havin' fun with us." Sarah said, "I'm
no worse off. If Buck doesn't care, let's see what happens when these two play fair."
I looked at Sarah and asked, "When did you first suspect?"
"Pretty early on." "What gave us away?"
"Hard to say but, honey, I earn my living at poker. For one thing, you seemed to avoid
looking at her. Two pretty girls at a table are usually sizing each other up."
Enough said. I guess I have no future as a pro poker player.
Buck and Sarah were happy to let us continue to play, probably knowing
full well they'd be able to win it back if we played fair. So, I split the chips with
Kelsey and within two hours we'd lost it all, mostly to the cowboy. I actually think
Sarah held back a bit to be fair to the cowboy. Maybe she had a soft spot
for him. Maybe she was hoping to get laid.
Unfortunately, it was Kelsey and me he invited to join him for drinks after the game
broke up. Sarah shrugged resignedly and wandered over to another table.
Because we had had a few at the table, the two additional rounds of drinks made us
pretty giddy, and so we accepted Buck's invitation to go up to his room. This was not
one of the high-end strip hotels, understand. Far from it, this was one of the older,
seedy downtown hotels. As soon as we entered his room, which had obviously had maid
service since he was last in it, we were hit by an indefinably unpleasant smell that
had tobacco as its single most obvious element, but probably included decaying foam
rubber and odors related to the various human effluents. Those related to
sexual reproduction
in particular.
Obviously, Buck was of a mind to try for a twofer, which is what we had in mind
as well, so it was definitely a "go" as far as that went. However, I was hit by a
wave of responsibility as I realized that Cliff was out there either with Faith
or wandering around alone. I ducked into the bathroom and tried to call him
quickly on my cell phone. No answer.
When I exited the bathroom, the cowboy's pants and underwear were down at his ankles, which,
since he was also wearing fancy cowboy boots, looked absurd. I almost laughed. Until
I saw his cock, that is. It was not particularly long, but when it came to girth
it was in a class by itself. I mean, he had a miniature fireplug for a dick!
And not so miniature... It was bigger around than my wrist, even if it was only
about 6" long.
Kelsey wanted to fuck, but being fully clothed presented a problem there, so
she signaled for me to take over, and as I did so she disrobed.
I nearly had to unhinge my jaw to accommodate him, and in fact I heard at least
one mumbled ouch as I tried to get his dick into my mouth. If he complained further,
or wanted to, I didn't hear it for Kelsey squatted on his face, giving his mouth
something else to do, and his dick, already hard, got as hard as granite.
That didn't last for long, though.
I needed to get naked, too, so I got up and tapped Kelsey on the shoulder, an
opportunity she didn't waste for she shuffled backward
and got that dick of his in her before I
could even my panties off! She sat on his pelvis and let him pump away.
So, once I was undressed, I took my place on his face, oriented facing back,
so that Kelsey and I could kiss each other while he entertained our pussies
with his mouth and cock.
I must say, whatever he lacked in length in the penis department he more
than made up for in the tongue department, for not only did I get my clit
licked expertly but I could swear the tip of his tongue caressed my
cervix from time to time. It was the weirdest sensation.
Kelsey fell off him onto the floor into a steaming heap of quivering
flesh. She had had her orgasm...
My turn!
My thoughts turned to my brother again, so I needed to take a shortcut
to orgasm. I sat down on his dick, helping it into
my asshole, which I assure you hurt at first, but soon my sphincter
totally relaxed and the noises he was making were quite convincing:
he was having a good time.
However, my anus wasn't lubed up. The only "lube" (if you can
call it that) was Kelsey's pussy juice. Protracted ass fucking would have
soon been unpleasant, so I went about working his cock with my anal
sphincter while masturbating with great intensity with a mind to getting
us both off fairly quickly.
He came first, for I could feel him going soft inside me (never once
have I felt semen in me at the moment of ejaculation). With this,
I really let myself go
and soon I had my own orgasm and rolled off him to one side.
Kelsey knew I wanted to find Cliff without being told, and by the time
I had cooled off enough to start getting dressed again, she was way ahead of me
and actually helped me out.
The cowboy wanted some post-sex chitchat and offered us some whiskey,
but I told him that we really
had to be on our way. Checking my watch I was shocked to see it was a bit
past 3:30 a.m.
I did need to visit the bathroom before we went (if I didn't want a big
blotch of semen forming in my panties, and took care of the problem as
quickly as I could.
As soon as I emerged, I found Kelsey and Buck at the door, which he
was holding open for us.
As we left, he invited us to return the next night and we gave him an
extremely insincere promise to consider doing so, just to shut him up.
We hightailed it back to the garage and took the elevator to the floor
where the car was parked. We walked toward the car, not seeing Cliff.
I looked glumly at Kelsey as if to say, "What now?"
That's when we heard a moan coming from the car and a distinctly
feminine knee came into view. The knee was moving (or being moved)
rhythmically. It was Faith's knee. Obviously, she was getting pretty
severely dicked by my little brother.
Kelsey, despite being as beat as I was, stifled a chuckle and said,
"Cliff's fucking her brains out, isn't he?" I looked at her with a proud smile
as if to say, "My little bro is a rather studly nerd!"
"I don't have the heart to interrupt them," I said. "Or embarrass them,
either," Kelsey added. I looked around and saw a stairwell. I pointed it out
to Kelsey. We tippy-toed to the stairwell and sat on the landing
where they wouldn't see us.
We sat there whispering now and then about the day we'd had, but listening
from time to time for evidence that Cliff and Faith had finished. Kelsey reached into her
purse at one point, pulling out $1000 in $100 bills! "Where did you get that?"
I asked. "Can you believe it?" said Kelsey, "Buck paid us for our
services. We were hookers tonight, love."
It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. I covered my mouth and stifled
the loud guffaw that desperately wanted to get out. My initial response after
that was to be mad at Kelsey for taking the money, but...what the hell. It's not
like we had charged him $1000.
I thought for a moment and said, "I don't really want it. Let's do
something nice for Belinda with it." "Yeah," said Kelsey. "She hasn't been
cut many breaks lately, has she?"
At last, we heard them talking and chuckling and cooing. Then we heard the car door
open. We took this as our cue to pretend we had just arrived on the scene.
We found that Faith had just gotten out of the car.
Kelsey and I pretended not to notice how disheveled Faith was, as she
tried to make sure what she'd been doing didn't seem overly obvious by
distracting us with small talk while she made sure her
clothing was tidy.
"I was about to find a bus or taxi to go home," she said. "Don't bother," I
said, "we'll drive you."
It was well after 4:30 by the time we trundled back into NW's place.
We went to our respective rooms. I showered and brushed my teeth and
was about ready to go to bed when I realized I hadn't checked e-mail in
quite some time.
Checking my laptop, there was a message from Gina. The subject was simply "Belinda."
I was almost afraid to open it, but at the same time I could never sleep without
knowing what it contained.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Portland Update
Let's take a little break from my adventures on the way out here, and I'll give you a
bit of an update. Our company had no local presence in Portland. To open up a branch office,
we had to scout out locations, evaluate them, offer upper-level management some
options, and once that was done (which took a good 2 months), it was on to the even more
daunting task of staffing the office.
We were loaned ten experienced staffers from within the company. They would get the ball
rolling and play a key role in training the local hires. So the office is finally up and running
and is, I'd say, at about 90% of peak efficiency. I'm guessing we'll reach that point in a
few months, certainly by the end of the year. The bosses seem to think things are moving along fine.
In the story of the trip, it's still springtime, but in real life I've been through my first full
Portland summer and winter, and wow, what a difference from Cleveland. The summers are far less
humid than Cleveland's. As a local explained it to me, "Summer in Portland is much more like
summer in Las Vegas than summer in a midwestern or eastern city because in the summer the weather
tends to come from the interior desert country, in the winter from the ocean." Of course, Las Vegas is far hotter. Only a
few Portland weeks were truly hot, pleasant temps in the 70's and 80's were more common.
As for winters, the big news was no blizzards. No ice. In fact, no snow at all down here in
the city! Of course, in Portland, if you want snow you can drive to it even in summer. In winter, there
are far more skiing opportunities than you have anywhere in Ohio or even the East. Not even Maine
offers anything like what's an easy drive from Portland.
Speaking of driving, Portland is perhaps the ecologically greenest city in the United States, and
believe it or not, I sold my car and am now living without one. I live in a nice apartment in the
so-called "Pearl District," which used to be a warehouse/industrial area, but has been gentrifying
(along with adopting the made-up name "The Pearl"). It now is the center of Portland's art galleries
(though it's far too expensive for 99% of artists to actually live there. Artists tend to live in
the Southeast quarter of town along Hawthorne, or in the newly lively close-in North quarter.
This reminds me: there are many strange and funny things about Portland, one of which is that
the city is divided into "quarters," of which there are actually five, not four. There's
Northeast, Northwest, Southeast, Southwest, and then there's the fifth quarter, the North.
Anyway, I live right on Portland's Trolley line and on a bus line that runs fairly frequently.
When I want a car, I can rent one, and while I haven't taken advantage of it yet, the
Zipcar service allows you to rent a car anywhere
from an hour or two to overnight at a very reasonable rate. (Zipcar operates in a number of cities, as
you'll find out if you click on the link. It may even operate where you live!
Because Portland has such fabulous public transit, I'm spared insurance and upkeep costs, and car
payments, and did I mention the cost of gasoline?!!! I'm happy as a clam to live
without a car. Between the raise I got when moving out here and the lower car expenses,
I've been able to upgrade my living quarters by renting a condo from its owner. I live in an
apartment I'd never be able to afford in Northern Ohio where life without a car would be
all but impossible..
From my apartment, I can see Mount Hood, and below my window is the cutest little park with
a pond and terraces where, on a nice day, you can see people catching rays, reading, or making
out with each other.
I've also discovered a very entertaining radio show which broadcasts live, in real time, over
the Internet and, also, I think, in podcast form. It's The Rick Emerson Show on KCMD 970 AM.
Here is their webpage, and on the left of the page is their "listen live" link.
His show runs from 10 a.m. until 3 p.m., but the first hour is a "recap" of an hour from the
previous day's show.
Rick is one of those people with the true "gift for gab." He seemingly never runs out of things
to say about whatever the topic of the moment happens to be. The show is also graced by two exceptional
co-hosts or sidekicks, whatever you want to call them.
Tim Riley has probably the most interesting
delivery of any newsman I've ever heard, on radio or television. He delivers news with a
devilish relish for the offbeat or shocking. He runs a rather oddball news blog
here. If you want to hear his delivery,
you'll be better off listening to one of the Rick Emerson Show's live shows or podcasts,
though. There's precious little of Riley reading news on his blog.
Rick's other helper on the show is the show's producer, Sarah X. Dylan, who runs her own
blog here, which is interesting but difficult
to describe because it runs the gamut from commentary on pop culture to celebrity gossip to
highlighting the weird and wonderful and oddball news of the day. Check it out.
Did I mention that Sarah is (as the expression goes) "hot as balls"?
Sarah, I want to get in your pants! Sarah runs contrary to the maxim that "If a woman is
pretty and in broadcasting, she's in TV, not radio." I understand she had a run-in with TV
that included them insisting on her dyeing her hair a natural color (it seems she likes
streaks of hot pink in her hair). She has a vaguely Bettie Page look to her, by which I'm
referring to her Page-esque bangs and a figure that from what I've been able to see is
rather curvy in a most delicious way (but without of that 1950's fullness of figure
that characterized Miss Page). Any way, here is her
Myspace page.
But here is my personal plea to Sarah: Sarah, I see you smoking in a lot of the photos.
If you don't want to be dragging an oxygen canister around with you in 20 years (or, worse,
laying in a bed counting your remaining days off one by one), give it up.
I know you have the strength to stop smoking!
One of the most endearing things about the show is the way they talk about each other's
foibles. Rick has his insecurities, such as his self-consciousness about his hair loss, which
he apparently took care of by taking advantage of one of the show's sponsors, a hair restoration surgery
clinic. He's an admitted geek and nerd, and if he has an on-air flaw, it's spending far too
much time talking about nerdy things (video games, in particular). One can almost hear Sarah
snoring in the background and Tim wondering how many sponsors are listening and thinking
about canceling their ads.
As for Sarah, her apparently almost nightly clubbing and partying are a frequent topic as
is whatever is going on in her love life. She handles these intrusions with admirable
dignity and aplomb.
Tim comes off as a bit of a milquetoast. A vegan, one can often almost feel him squirming
whenever the topic turns to meat, as it frequently does, for Sarah and especially Rick
are definitely of the carnivorian ilk.
Give The Rick Emerson show a listen via their "Listen Live" feed, but remember, the show's
10 a.m.-3 p.m. hours are in the Pacific Time Zone. Adjust your listening time accordingly and
remembering that the first hour repeats a portion of the day before. The actual live show
begins at 11 a.m. Pacific.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that Rick has his own blog here.
As for local TV, considering that Portland is a smaller market than Cleveland, the TV news is
overall done much better in Portland. As with most of America, and with the exception of PBS
programming, the local morning shows, and those local access shows with microscopic audiences,
most of it comes from the national networks.
For someone from a major Midwestern and/or Eastern city, one of the biggest shocks upon moving
to Portland is that it's so, well, white. Sure, there are black people, and Portlanders
are very liberal, generally, when it comes to race, but the contrast between downtown Cleveland
and downtown Portland is stark and impossible to ignore. It feels like ninety-five perdent
of the people on the street in Portland are white or Asian. Blacks seem to be few and far between,
although there are black neighborhoods here where well over 50% of the residents are black and most
of the local shops are black owned.
By contrast, if you're a white person walking around in downtown Cleveland, you'll soon
realize that you are the racial minority there. Fully 75% of the people on downtown
Cleveland streets the last time I visited were black. Asians? I don't think I saw any.
While there are a fair amount of closed storefronts here in Portland, some no doubt due to the
current recession, but many due to the major construction going on downtown as well, it's nothing
like the disaster area of downtown Cleveland, where away from the bustling Terminal Tower complex,
things can be pretty grim.
If you like food, Portland is a great place. It's a restaurant town with fantasic fare of almost
all kinds. What it lacks that Cleveland has is really good old-fashioned Italian restaurants
serving pasta with tomato-based sauces. Sylvia's restaurant probably meets that description best
here, but in Cleveland it'd be rated only a fair example of this traditional type of restaurant.
Even worse is the corned beef situation. Kornblatt's does a fairly good job, but their corned
beef sandwich contains about half the corned beef of one you'd buy at Corky & Lenny's in Cleveland Heights,
and of course with the overall health-nuttiness of the Pacific Northwest, corned beef is invariably
served lean here, whereas any corned beef lover knows that the most succulent corned beef is
riddled with fat. (Take that, Tim Riley.)
Well, more on Portland on another day. Just thought you'd like an update on my new life in Portland.
Don't worry, I have new friends out here. I'm getting laid and having other sexual adventures,
and once I'm done describing the trip to Portland, I'll be getting into those.
I Love Glass Toys!
I got another toy to review from
PleasureMeNow.com.
I just love glass toys because they're so firm and smooth. Even on this one,
which has those bumps on it, the bumps are smooth. They give it texture,
but it's not rough or abrasive.
I'd like to tell you want it's called, but it can be found at
PleasureMeNow.com in
the Glass Dildos department. At this writing, it's temporarily out of stock,
but stock is due back in soon. Don't worry, there are lots of other glass
toys I wish I had there as well.
Now, I used this one mostly on my clit and labia and didn't insert it
until I the end was near, because I do think the texture would become
uncomfortable in the vagina after a while.
And the great thing about glass toys is they're so easily sanitized. In general,
the thought of using someone else's sex toy gives me the creeps, but a glass
toy can be washed off in the sink. If you want to sanitize it even more, rub
some alcohol on it. Actually, what I do is the easiest thing of all: I simply
run it through the dishwasher on heated dry along with a load of dishes. The
heated dry kills any germs on either the toy or the dishes.
By the way, I'm not the only one who likes it. I gave it to a girl
in my apartment building who's become a friend (heh, heh) and I couldn't
believe my eyes: She used it in her ass and gave herself a squirting orgasm
in about only two minutes!
Anyway, click on the following link if you want to find out more about their
glass toys.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Belle's Hell
The Trip West, Pt. XIV
NOTE: New posts go at the top, as in most blogs, but that means that in a
story like this, spread over more than one post, you really need to find the first
post in the series and read them in order. So, that's what I suggest you do here.
It took three loud fusillades of knocks to get Belle to open her door.
She came out in a robe and looked up and down the hallway. As she did so,
the others popped back into their rooms. The only one left besides us was
a very disheveled looking Hilda, who offered to make us hot chocolate.
I accepted for both of us and we waited wordlessly in a little alcove off the side
of the kitchen. When Hilda brought us the steaming mugs of chocolate, I thanked her
and she left us alone to talk.
I held Belle's hand. "Your emotions have been all over the place lately.
I've been waiting for you to talk about it...whatever it
is, but now that you woke everyone up, I think it's time for me to simply
ask you straight up...what the fuck is going on here?"
She crossed her arms on the table in front of her, nearly knocking
over her drink, and then she rested her forehead on her arms and sobbed.
I pulled up a chair next to hers and put an arm around her shoulders.
"Sweetie, what has made you this way? This is so unlike you. You're usually
so happy-go-lucky! You're usually so care-free it actually bums me out that I
can't be the same!"
She stopped crying and wiped her tears off onto her wrists. If she hadn't
removed her makeup before bed, she would have looked like a character from a zombie
movie. Instead, she just had pink and puffy eyes.
"His name was Franco..." she began, and of course I thought, "Oh, shit. Somebody dumped
her and she's acting like the pathetic jilted schoolgirl."
I was wrong. So very wrong.
She continued. "I met him in Advanced Calculus. He was a graduate teaching assistant.
Really smart guy. As smart as they come." She laughed, "And, he had the cutest
Italian accent. He grew up in Como."
(Lake Como
...a sublimely beautiful Italian lake. A very expensive place to live, too, I'm sure.)
I found this whole thing fascinating, since I was just getting used to thinking of Belle as a
math nerd myself. Not a very nerdy-looking nerd at all, but a nerd nonetheless, which
explained her social clumsiness to a very great degree. Her mind was constantly
in another dimension.
"The professor is brilliant, but a disaster as a teacher. Besides being busy, he's
one of these people who makes you feel dumb for having a question. Franco was
always available and always took time. Not just with me, but with anyone in the
class who needed help.
"I found myself meeting with him almost daily with questions, and it soon
dawned on me that I didn't really need his help, I just liked being with him."
"You had fallen in love," I said.
"Yeah. Majorly. When that class ended, we started seeing each other from time
to time. Then, we started making love."
(I don't think I'd ever heard Belle use the "L-word" regarding someone she was
dating or having sex with before, so that alone told me this was something
special.)
"I went to Italy with Franco to meet his family. That's how serious it was
becoming. I loved them. They were wonderful.
His mom treated me like a daughter. His two sisters were fun and not resentful
of the attention I was getting. Suddenly, it was as if I had two sisters.
It was a loving family, a perfect family. And I was becoming part of it."
A twinge of sympathy ran through me, for I knew Belle's own family to be
largely dysfunctional. This beautiful daughter of theirs that my own
parents would have treasured was such an inconvenience
that she got almost all of her love from a surrogate, a nanny. That
nanny loved her as if she were her own daughter, but when Belle graduated from
high school and was ready to go to college, her nanny was summarily dismissed
with a niggardly severance package of several months' pay. For 18 years of
loyal service.
So, here Belle had found herself, in effect, adopted by a good family.
"Then, my folks got wind of it and they didn't approve. I
guess dad's company had had a run in with Franco's father's company and it had
created some bad blood between them. Instead of viewing it as a way to get
past all that, they refused to bless a union between Franco and me. They
threatened to cut me off from my inheritance if I married him."
I was thinking, "What a bunch of shits!" Her family...the more I find out about
them, the less I like them.
"It got worse when my dad put together a hostile takeover of Franco's
dad's company and forced him out. I think it was all over me. It was
just mean. They have a family fortune and so his
father wasn't put out on the street or anything, but you can imagine how
tense things became, but his wonderful family never blamed me.
"I finally told my parents that I didn't really care what they wanted.
I wanted Franco, and if it meant losing all that money, so be it."
I'm thinking...Wow! She got some balls. I guess being in love can do that.
Like Woody Allen said, "The heart wants what the heart wants."
"At last, he asked me to marry him. I accepted. It was no secret, but I wanted to
tell you guys in person. In fact, I was planning on coming back largely for that purpose.
But first, there was a big wedding of a cousin that he and I were going to
attend. The wedding party was all family.
(Italians have such large families, even some family members weren't included
in the proceedings they had planned.) But most of my good clothes were
evening clothes or casual clothes, not something you'd wear to a traditional wedding,
so Franco's sisters gave me a list of their favorite stores in Milan. That's why I
went off to Milan to do some shopping. This meant I would miss the rehearsal
dinner which I would have wanted to attend with Franco, but there was no
choice and I wasn't needed anyway."
"So, what happened?" I asked. Her story was obviously leading up to
something.
"On the way to the rehearsal dinner, there was an accident. They were in
two cars. As the first car rounded a blind turn, there was a truck that
was out of control. No brakes. The first car with his mother and father
and one of his sisters slammed into it head on. Franco was driving the
second car with his other sister. They say he tried to avoid the accident, but
his car went out of control and flew over the edge, falling several hundred
feet onto a pile of boulders at a construction site and landing upside
down on a pile of rubble."
With that, Belle broke into tears and sobs all over again.
A group gasp came from behind us at the same time. I turned to see
Cliff, Kelsey, and Gina all in bathrobes. They all rushed in and surrounded
us, wanting to touch Belle and show their sympathy.
"When did this happen?" I asked. "Two months ago!"
Kelsey's face went pale. "If you hadn't gone to Milan..."
"...I'd be dead," said Belle. After a brief silence she
added, "...and sometimes I wish I'd died with him.
When I screamed...I was dreaming of being in the crash."
We were all stunned. How could this have happened to our friend and she didn't
even tell us until now, after two months had gone by?
"But surely your parents..." I thought out loud.
"I'm still disowned. They won't even talk to me."
Gina said, "I wouldn't worry about that." Gina could fix almost anything and,
after all, her boyfriend is Belle's uncle. The love between Ray and Belle
has always been palpable. No...Ray would take care of Belle if she needed it.
"It gets worse," said Belle.
The room grew silent. Worse? How?
"I've been hit with one thing after another since then. After being disowned and disinherited,
I talked to my nanny and she let slip something I didn't know. That I was adopted."
I thought I heard a pin drop.
"And now..." she broke down completely. She tried to say something through
her weeping and sobbing. I had to have her repeat it twice more before I
finally understood it and explained it to those assembled.
"She's carrying Franco's baby." As I said it, she nodded.
Oh my God, I thought. This sweet, guileless girl has had so much shit
heaped on her in such a short time, and after a very sheltered life, too.
Gina, who always looks for the proverbial silver lining said,
"Well, actually, that's wonderful, isn't it? I mean, one good thing to
come out of it."
"Not if I won't be around. I'm probably carrying an orphan." And with that she
opened up her gown to display her breasts to all of us. Poor, innocent,
Cliff was included. Pulling the skin taught over her left breast, a very
definite lump appeared, defined very clearly by a shadow cast by the
overhead light.
Strangely, it was Cliff who broke the seemingly interminable silence with,
"Not all breast lumps are cancer." Belle, suddenly made more aware that there was
a male present, quickly covered up.
Kelsey, ever the practical one, asked, "Have you had it checked? Biopsied?"
Belle shook her head to say no. "Why not?" asked Gina.
"Because..." said Belle with a shrug. Gina finished the sentence for her:
"Because you're afraid of what the answer might be. But, honey, the answer will
be the same tests or not. If you find out it's cancer, there are treatments."
We all nodded. Gina added, "And like Cliff said, it could be benign and you'd
have one less thing to worry about."
There ensued a very long silence. Belle seemed relaxed, and was obviously
relieved that we knew what was going on in her life.
I spoke up first, "So, that story about bumming around Europe with some guy
you weren't very serious about..." Belle replied, "I just couldn't have talked
about it. That wasn't true. I was with Franco and we were so in love. I had a
family who wanted me. Everything was going to be perfect."
We all got misty because, I think at that moment we girls, who had grown
to know Belle as a gorgeous airhead, and then as a math nerd (which went a long way to explaining
the airhead part) were looking at her anew yet one more time. She was someone with a real
interior life, with deep feelings. There was a very real person in there
which she'd been hiding from view for the two or three years we'd known her.
We could never look at Belle the same again.
Talk about something coming out of left field, and yet so appropriate to
the moment. Cliff, apparently feeling the need to change the subject (which was
perhaps more than he at his age could handle) looked at Belle and said,
"Your real name...it's Belinda, isn't it?"
She nooded a yes.
"Can I call you Belinda?" asked Kelsey? I don't think any of use really liked
Belle. I'd never name a child Belle.
She smiled through her tears and said, "I wouldn't mind it at all. I mean,
I'd like that." And so, Belle was reborn as Belinda, the name we all now use
when referring to her.
We all stood up and encircled Belinda and gave her a huge group hug. Then we all
went off to bed and tried to sleep.
I couldn't. I kept thinking about Belinda
and how much had happened to her in such a short time. I thought about her
amazing capacity to do what men do so easily: to compartmentalize her life.
She'd joined with us in group sex. Shared our company. Driven the bus. Laughed
from time to time, and
she did this all the while hiding a soul-crushing tragedy.
She was even facing the possibility that she was bearing her lover's
child while with a possibly cancerous tumor in her breast.
And if she lived, she would have to face the fact that she was adopted.
I had dismissed her as just a goofy but glamorous clothes horse. There was so
much more to her than met the eye. As I have discovered so many times in my
life, that's usually the case. But she made it so easy to underestimate her.
I was startled by the sound of my door opening, and a ghostly figure slowly
drifting to my bedside. "Are you asleep" came the whisper. It was Belinda.
"No. Do you want to sleep with me?" "Yes. May I?" "Of course."
I curled up into a very loose and long spoon position and she snuggled back
into it, laying her head on my outstretched arm. She wept. I wept. I don't
think I could have gotten to sleep without her in my arms that night. I had
been reminded what a fragile and tenuous grip we all have on this life of
ours.
(NOTE: Sorry for another sexless post, but once again real life intrudes and
provides a drama into which sex escapades simply can't be fit. I've been very busy at my day job
lately and haven't had a lot of time to write, what with putting in many overtime
hours helping Kelsey make the new Portland office run smoothly. We'll be back on track
in the next post, I assure you, though more revelations regarding Belinda are on
their way.)
Here's Another Massive Flood Of Sapphic Chicks
Things have been so busy here in the Portland office. It's hard to find time
to write, but the next installment is on the way and you'll find out what's
been bugging Belle in that one. In the meantime, here are some new SapphicErotica
galleries. Much as I like the classier stuff from MET-Art, Hegre, and JustTeenSite,
when I wank to chicks, it's usually SapphicErotica girls. They are cute but in
a very normal way, not like they're supermodels or something.
Complete list of Stories
In The Order They Were Written
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I have been realizing that the blog has developed, shall we say, a navigation issue as it has grown.
In order to make it easier to get around, I've created a chart (below) listing the stories by name
and in the order they were written. The day may come in the future when every story name here will
directly link to that story, but for now, there are links which will take you to that page. When you
go to each page, bear in mind that they are blog pages with the oldest story at the bottom and the
newest one at the top. In other words, the reverse of the order they are listed here. For example,
"The Story Of The Sad Girl" on Page 2 is the second story from the bottom of the page, not the second
from the top.
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PAGE 1
Blowjob On The Bus
How Sexy Can Beans Be?
I Like Being Fucked In The Ass!
I Molested A Girl On The Bus Today
Okay, So Erik Came Home And...
Oh, My Golly, Send Me Out More!
The Weekend Is Over, And Boy Is My Pussy Sore!
I Caught A Coworker Masturbating Today
I Took A Mental Health Day
Open Wide!
I Met A Berry Good Girl
A Lucky Substitution
One Of My Earliest Sexual Memories
My Finger In The Dyke
Going Out For A Spin
And To Think I Got Paid For Doing This!
Life Is A Carnival
A Fair Exchange
Three Pussies Are Better Than Two
I Can Dream, Can't I?
The Deflowering Of Wally
My European Holiday, Pt I
My European Holiday, Pt II
My European Holiday, Pt III
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PAGE 2
My European Holiday, Pt IV
The Story Of The Sad Girl
Going Down For The Count
Motherfucker!
Erik's Mrs. Robinson Story
My European Holiday, Part V (The Finale)
The Taste Of A Martini
A Pervert Home Alone (Or How To Rack Up A Big Phone Bill!)
Kelsey And I Experience The Orgasmatron
The Gangbang At The Ski Lodge
The Redhead Helps Me Sleep
The Big Fuckup
Two Working Stiffs
In Which Promotion Leads To Adventure (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt I)
In Which We Haunt The Ghost Bar (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt II)
In Which We Meet A Famous Man (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt III)
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PAGE 3
In Which We Gang Up On Hernando (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt IV)
In Which We Take A Road Trip (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt V)
In Which I Name A Constellation (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt VI)
In Which Kelsey Is Left Hanging (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt VII)
In Which I Blow It With NW (It Didn't Stay In Vegas, Pt VIII)
Tall Girl, Shy Girl
In Which I Get The Blues, And That's Good (A Return To Portland, Pt. I)
In Which I Blame It On The Retsina (A Return To Portland, Pt. II)
In Which There's An Assfuck At Flatrock (A Return To Portland, Pt. III)
In Which My Trip Ends As It Began (A Return To Portland, Pt. IV)
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PAGE 4
Am I A "Feminist"? That Depends (essay)
You Figure It Out
Moonlight And Elize
The Summer I Totally Lost My Virginity
The Summer I Mostly Grew Up
"Toys In Babeland" or "No Thanks To Jesus"
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PAGE 5
Initiation Of The Novice
I Got The Greatest "Dear Jill" Letter
Sometimes Life Just Fucking Sucks
Living The Life Of The Rich, Pt I
Living The Life Of The Rich, Pt II
In Praise Of Older Men
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PAGE 6
Distant Thunder (A Weekend In Guyana, Pt I)
Rough Jungle Sex (A Weekend In Guyana, Pt II)
Beach Bondage Bingo (A Weekend In Guyana, Pt III)
A Dream Comes True And We Do A Good Deed (The Trip West, Pt I)
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PAGE 7
A Stunning Revelation (The Trip West, Pt II)
Tragedies Come In Threes (The Trip West, Pt III)
Sodom Comes To Panama City (The Trip West, Pt IV)
Self-Doubt And Vindication (The Trip West, Pt V)
Bruno Kilimanjaro And The Big Easy (The Trip West, Pt VI)
Guess Who Has Jizz On Her Cheek (The Trip West, Pt VII)
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PAGE 8
A Quick Update And Some Ruminations On Porn (essay)
We Discover The World's Most Boring City (The Trip West, Pt VIII)
We Finally Catch Up With Danielle, But There Are Other Concerns (The Trip West, Pt IX)
Good and Expected News (The Trip West, Pt X)
In Which We Own The UT El Paso Fucking Team (The Trip West, Pt XI)
Shortcuts And Rainstorms (The Trip West, Pt XII)
My Short Story Challenge
Ray To The Rescue (The Trip West, Pt. XIII)
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PAGE 9
Belle's Hell (The Trip West, Pt XIV)
Portland Update (report)
Hope And Faith (The Trip West, Pt XV)
Feminists Backing John McCain? WTF?!!! (my involuntary rant on misguided feminism)
The Snow Job (The Trip West, Pt XVI)
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