Eighteen – Chapter 11

The heart knows no bounds when it comes to passion. Maybe I was out-of-bounds when I kissed my secret lover on stage in front of all my family, friends and fans. Worst of all was when my actual boyfriend saw us. I was uncontrollably shaking and vibrating from my out of control feelings as Jack ran up to us.

“How could you?” he accused me,  glaring at poor Jake, the latest victim of my raging passions.

In addition to the shakes, I was purring like a cat. Jack was bereft, stomping off stage in tears. I was tempted to bow to the stunned audience, after this melodrama capped an evening of multiple performances, from classical to rock and even schlock.

Tommy stood there  with his arm around his girlfriend. “Good riddance, Jack-Off. How’s it feel to be thrown under the bus?”

He winked at me. I was too fucked up to smile back. The rest of the performers surrounded Jake and me. No one said a thing. Jill ran off to find Jack; she was his only supporter.

I tried to speak, but the purring got in the way and wouldn’t stop. Jake barely knew anyone and didn’t know what to say but tried.

“It was just in the heat of the moment. Your show was incredible. You guys played for five hours.” It was one o’clock in the morning.

“You chased Tim all the way across the country to steal him from Jack?”  Flo, my other girlfriend, accused poor Jake.

“It’s been going on for a while, ever since we first met,” my purring had subsided. “I wanted him to see us perform.”

“You sure know how to finish a show,” Michael laughed. Everyone relaxed, shaking their heads and laughing.

“You better go find Jack,” Flo noted. “I think he crashed and burned.”

I looked around. Most of the audience was still there, fascinated by our melodramatic finish.

I went to the mic. “Thanks for coming. Remember that this show was about Jace. We’ll never forget him. I guess you now know that life goes on. I’ve moved on. Jace is always in my heart, and I hope he stays in yours.”

There was a smattering of applause. Everyone was too confused about what had happened. “Gays,” was the common response, “they just can’t help themselves.”

 

I ran backstage  where Jill was holding a sobbing Jack in her arms.

“Here,” she turned to me, “this is your job.”

A terrified Jack looked at me, with the tears flowing. “Why?” was all he said.

I held him. No words were going to help. Finally, he gulped and slapped me, turning away.  I deserved it. It made me realize that Jake was out on stage with no one to support him. I returned to him, sitting on the right front edge of the stage.

“I got carried away. I’m sorry to embarrass you.”

“I’m more thrilled than embarrassed. What I need most is something to eat. Anything open this late?”

I was amazed at his composure. The rest of the group was preparing to go to Sorrento’s,  being kept open for us.

“Are you up to being with everyone right now.”

“You know where I want to go.”

We laughed.

“Maybe you could use with some calories to keep up your stamina.”

“Never underestimate my stamina,” he dared me. My dick gave a big twitch.  He was shameless. I loved it.

“We could go to Sambo’s?” I asked.

“Let’s face the music with your friends. Will Jack be there?”

“He ran off by himself. Let that sleeping dog lie.”

“And who’s been living a lie?”

I sighed. “I don’t know. It’s so confusing here. It’s like going backwards in time.”

“That’s me all the time I’m with you.”

“This is so juvenile. I’m sorry, Jake. Do you hate me?”

“Stop acting like a guilty kid. I’ll never hate you, but I go back to Hollywood tomorrow. The only time I felt in my element here was playing with your patron’s jazz quartet. Even playing Rimsky-Korsakov seemed weird with that odd keyboard.”

I hugged him and we joined the group who appeared to be waiting for us to decide if we wanted to go to Sorrento’s. Pizza – wonder food for the heart (of teenagers at least). Mike Sr. had us join him with his college buddies on the ride to Calle Ocho. The jazz group, including Jake, was abuzz about opening for a rock act. They avoided talking about me. Jill had come along with us. Mike Sr’s renewed his ‘special’ attention he usually paid her. Maybe he was emboldened by Jake and me.

I remained loyal to Jake, by sitting at the adults’ table. They all ordered entrees. I decided to grab several slices from the kids’ table. They understood I needed to be with Jake and didn’t try to snag me away.”

“Really?” Robby asked. I just smiled and walked away.

 

“Jeez, Tim. You produced a show of every type of music from 19th Century Russian classical to the popular music of today, as well as spoken word. Everything but Shakespeare in the Globe Theater replica,” Jake complimented me.

“Well, ‘All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players,” I quoted.

“Did that boy actually write his own routine?” Mike Sr. asked.

“The ‘gator story is entirely his. It gets better with every telling. Michael actually found the ‘goin’ west’ story in a Mark Twain book in your library.  Tommy adapted it to his own country speech.”

“Well, Jace would be proud, of what you did tonight in his honor.”

“Thanks.” Jace did cartwheels on our table. A couple of wine glasses overturned. We were all glad to know he enjoyed his show.

Jake started rubbing my knee in anticipation of our next stop. I knew I was about start purring. I jumped up and thanked Mike Sr. for hosting a stupendous New Year’s Eve party. I dragged Jake away as quickly as possible.  The adults had wry smiles on their lips, knowing what my rush was all about. We grabbed a taxi there in Little Havana and were soon at the Grove hotel. I’d already been purring for several minutes. Clothes were scattered from just inside the door all the way to the glass balcony door. Jake took me from behind and we rutted so hard that we both came within two minutes of penetration. The evidence was on the balcony’s glass door, including a smeared impression of my lips from Jake pushing my head against the glass.  I wrenched away from him, his dick popping  out of my butt. We giggled as I pulled him to the large and much more comfortable bed. I wasn’t vibrating but had an insatiable need to fuck Jake.  I went down on him, starting at the trail of hair below his belly button, while squeezing both of his nipples. He was writhing in sexual stimulation. I relented by taking his rejuvenated dick in my mouth.  He laid on his back as I kneeled between his legs with his dick deep down my throat. He held my head steady as he thrust upward into my lips. I moved my hands from his nipples to his tightening butt cheeks, massaging them as they pushed upward. My middle fingers found his butt hole, scrapping the outer ring.

“Ahh, ahh, ahhhh,” he moaned  as I slowly entered him each time he thrust into my mouth. His breathing became ragged. We both had already cum once, so I assumed he could control the next orgasm regardless of how much I stimulated him.

“I want you. I havta fuck you. I want you now,” I whispered.

His breathing was totally ragged as he nodded vigorously. That was all it took. I raised his legs over my shoulders, letting his dick plop out of my mouth. Sticking the head of my dick just an inch into his butt, I grabbed his spit-slathered shaft with both hands. As I rocked into him, I squeezed and stroked his slimy dick. Fully inside Jake,  I paused to rhythmically stroke his rigid dick. He writhed under me as I held firm, fully inside his anal canal. I felt his prostrate pulsing against my hard-on. My dick’s tip do its turn backward, telling me I was close to cumming.

“Let’s go. Let’s go,” I ordered, speeding up my thrusts, with quick short pushes deep inside him. His arms held me around the small of my back. He tightened them and held on as I raced to orgasm. Shorter and shorter were my strokes until I held my throbbing dick motionless.  The pulse started beneath my balls, building and building as it moved through my scrotum and into the base of my dick. The vibrations started again as my whole body shook more and more. The orgasm approached the head of my dick. I just let go as Jake spurted all over us.  I threw my head back, giving a final thrust. Every muscle in my body went into uncoordinated contractions as I exploded deep inside Jake. I collapsed and passed out.

The next thing I knew, I came to with Jake laying next to me. The sweat and smeared cum  had been washed off. We cuddled under a single sheet. I wasn’t shaking or even purring. I was satisfied. It was complete. Jake was smiling at me.

“You passed out.”

“I used to do that when I was a kid at 15.”

“All grown up now?”

“Obviously not,” I giggled.

“You are so cute,” he kissed me chastely, maybe even tentatively, afraid I wanted to fuck him some more. “And so hot.”

I just wanted to curl up with him and sleep. He kissed me on the forehead. The next I knew it was mid morning and breakfast was being delivered. Jake was embarrassed by the look he got when the bell boy saw how young I was. I giggled at his discomfort. It wasn’t my fault I was only 18.

“What are we doing today. I’m done with the band for now.”

“Well, have some coffee and read your review in the Miami Herald.”

I jumped up, apparently recovered from performance fatigue.  Jake laughed at the sight of my naked, swinging dick running over to grab the paper.  I sat in his lap, much to his surprise.

“Read it to me,” I ordered. Jake smiled, showing me the photos Jimmy took. He read

“False Gods,

Return to Glory

False Gods, our local rock heroes, returned to performance after a twenty month hiatus. The site was a Shakespearean era replica of the Globe Theater at the home of local civil rights attorney Mike Antonio, on New Year’s Eve. It was a reprise of the 1974 New Year’s Eve tribute to their murdered founder, Jace Conning. They played for four hours that year to ten thousand fans. This time they played for five hours to mostly friends and fans-in-the-know. The boys have all graduated now and the range of their musical interests has blossomed in many directions. You cannot call it a rock show when a suite of Rimsky-Korsakov opens, followed by a jazz quintet entertaining the older group’s cocktail party, a sixteen year-old doing a Mark Twain spoken word tall tale, then a country music segment, followed by a Doo Wop a Capella serenade, turning into a 50’s sock hop/dance by the popular party band, the Out-Crowd. At this moment the original False Gods band reprised their reflections of Miami life plus songs from guitarist Tim Castle’s times in Iowa and singer Jack Stone’s new band at Harvard. Not to be outdone, drummer Michael Antonio and his girlfriend Jenna sang a Carpenter’s duet to each other, Miami’s own Romeo and Juliet. Back came the 16-year-old to countdown the seconds to midnight. Guitarist Castle related difficulties he’s encountered at his work on a movie in Hollywood, singing several songs by Tom Petty, his partner in crime at the Lynyrd Skynyrd concert, . The songs, ‘I Won’t Back Down’ and ‘I’m So Bad’, reflect how he won over his fellow workers by beating down a bigot. A final tribute to Jace was Rod Stewart’s ‘You’re in My Heart,’ performed by backup singer Jill Wilkie, as everyone joined arms and swayed to her sweet voice. The music complete, Tim and Tommy sat at the stage’s edge and told about their days together after escaping from the corrupt juvenile detention camp, The Program. Tommy recounted the tall tale about their encounters with a 28 foot alligator called ‘Gatorsaurous.’ This ended the night’s celebration. I counted 21 different performers, doing music from classical to jazz to country to doo wop to 50’s dance pop to goth rock to English soul to South comfort rock as well as spoken word. The only thing missing was heavy metal, unless you include an Iggy Pop-imposter swinging from a balcony in the middle of False Gods’ monkeyshines song.

This concert/performance was a one-off, never to be repeated. But we look forward to what these kids will do next. They prove that there’s more to music than sitting at home and listening to records. I look forward to the movie Tim is working on. It’s called ‘Animal House.” That sounds just about right for these kids.’

Good old Jimmy Olson, cub reporter,  always comes through for us. Inside the Calendar Section there were additional pictures, including a shot of the jazz quintet. Jake was front and center.

“Hooking yourself to my star,” I pointed to his photo.

“Not quite front page news yet,” he laughed.

I wiggled my butt on his lap, which instantly perked up.

“A little sex, to go with your coffee,” he needled me.

I shuddered and purred into his ear. I was insatiable. We were back in bed, soon experiencing morning delight.  Jake took it easy on my butt. We were under a time limit as Jake’s flight to LAX left in the early afternoon. Hotel check-out was at noon. They provided a shuttle bus to the airport. We rode together, unable to say goodbye until the last moment. We got stares from strangers for my odd behavior of purring when I hung onto him. Finally, his flight was in final boarding.

“I’ll see you soon,” is all he said. Then we kissed, drawing real looks of surprise. He disappeared into the jetway.

I was so depressed. Jake was gone. Jack was broken-hearted. I knew I wasn’t in love with Jake. It was such a strong sexual and intellectual connection, but the romance was not there. We both knew it was a fling, yet the future was unsure. That was part of the excitement. Apart from the teen drama, we’d had the greatest weekend together. I needed someone to straighten out my head. Jace appeared – Teen Jesus to the rescue.

“Experiencing buyer’s remorse over your new boyfriend?”

“I know we’re not meant for each other, but he makes me so horny.”

“You’re just frustrated that Jack is such a little nerd.”

We laughed. “I still love the little nerd, but he’s locked me out of his heart.”

“I can still talk with him. How about a conference call?”

“He must hate me right now.”

“Then just listen in. He’s so clueless, he won’t even know.”

It was like the time I went to Switzerland and saw him in the seminary. Jack was laying on his bed, crying his eyes out. I gulped, from guilt, but kept silent.”

“What’s up, Jack-Off,” Jace used Tommy nickname for him. “Tim abusing you again.”

“I hate him. He’s just so mean.”

“Not willing to share with his middle-aged lover?”

“It’s worse than with Tommy. Then it was just perverted child molestation.”

“Hey, remember I’m still fifteen. Tommy’s older than me now.”

Jack stopped crying. “I’ll always love you, Jace. We were the same age when we started fucking.”

“That’s when we all had the sex pact. Tim’s called it off, since I never grew up.”

“I still love you, Jace.”

“Then let me fuck you,” Jace kidded him.

Jack was in tears again. He had lost both of his long-term lovers at once.

Jace smiled. “Maybe you need to talk with Tim.”

“How can I? My heart won’t open to him. First I was afraid he had stopped loving me. Now I know it’s true.”

“Well, tell him right now.”

“What?”

“Yeah. He’s right here. He still loves you. You’re too much of a nerd to realize it.”

Jack was in a panic, having exposed his real feelings.

I stepped into the dream. “If you would just trust me again, you’d know I’ll always love you,”  I swore.

“Tim?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”
“I couldn’t help myself.  It was not planned to happen this way.”

“How can you love him. He’s so old.”

“We’re not in love. It’s strictly about sex.”

Jack burst into tears again.  It got to me but he still had locked me out of his heart. He was so stubborn.

Tommy showed up. His first psychic love time-travel. “Why’s he’s crying, Huck. Is it payback for throwing me under the bus in I-o-way?”

It was always all about him.

“Naw. He thinks I’m in love with my composer.”

“The old guy. He’s cool but his music is lame,” Tommy’s advice from the peanut gallery.

Jace piped up, “Jack’s too insecure to trust his heart to Tim.”

Jack was not happy we were dissecting his love life. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to love me, Tim.”

“I’ve loved you since the night you thought I had fucked you when it was just a wet dream.”

Jace and Tommy laughed. “Don’t always believe wet dreams. They’re just a sticky reminder that your sexual needs are not being met,” Tommy was a sex counselor now. Jack moaned.

“You want the real truth, Jack?” I saw his eye grow wide. “I was glad you weren’t in my heart and able to see all the sex I’ve been having in Hollywood, and even in the City.”

The tears were running again. “You fucked Burroughs?”

“I just jerked him off, after a trick took his money and left him hanging.”

Jace and Tommy were laughing their asses off. Jack was less than pleased.

“He’s seventy years old.”

“Seventy-three in February, But he is a Harvard grad.”

“That supposed to make me feel better?”

“It has nothing to do with you. I felt sorry for him.”

“Now you feel sorry for me.”

“No. I’m just sorry you feel this way. I can’t be in your heart unless you trust me.”

“How can I? You’re such a slut.”

Everyone agreed on that score.

“You love Jace, and you’re not jealous that he’s fucking Tommy.”

“I’m fucking him,” Tommy asserted.

“And anyone else who will have you,” Jace retorted.

“What’s wrong with me?” Jack was still dismayed.

“Nothing’s wrong. You just are too possessive. My dad says it’s how all rich people are.”

“You don’t love me because I’m rich?”

“You’re just insecure. And you insist on getting your way. You made me throw Tommy under the bus. He was only fourteen. He was bound to grow up and change. Jake’s 42 (they all gasped). He won’t change but I will.”

Finally, Jack saw some sense in my logic. “How can you cheat on me and still think you love me?”

“Wake up, Jack. I’ve always loved more than one person at a time. I still loved Scott even after I was in love with Jace. We just didn’t know it yet.”

Jace smiled. He always knew I loved him.

“Does that mean you can’t leave Jake to be with me now.”

“Jake’s gone back to LA.”

Jack’s face fell. It meant he couldn’t prove I loved him more.

“You don’t want me to come over?” I asked.

“Pool party,” Tommy exclaimed.

“More likely to be a sex party.”
“I ain’t havin’ sex with ol’ Jack-Off.”

“That’s a relief,” Jack snarked.

“All made up, now?” Jace’s role as couples’ counselor was established.

“Of course,” I readily agreed.

“I guess,” Jack still felt abused. His heart remained shut to me.

“Jist the way ol’ Huck is,” Tommy asserted. “Git used ta it.”

“Then, come pick me up. I’m at the airport.”

“Fucking two-timer,” Jack sniffed.

He was there in twenty minutes. I jumped into the pink Cabriolet  and gave him a quick kiss. Being mocked by Tommy had dampened his enthusiasm for a reconciliation.

“Let’s go to Sorrento’s,” I suggested, pizza to the rescue. “You missed it last night.”

“I was exhausted after the show,” was his excuse.

“I’m sorry you saw that kiss. It ruined a wonderful show for you. Did you see Jimmy’s article in the Herald?”

“Mummy showed me. I ran off crying. I never read it.”

“Let’s go to my house. Max and Winston will cheer you up. We can read it there.”

“Okay,” he sniffed.

Lying in my arms in the window as I read to him, he seemed to relax.

“He only mentions me because I go to Harvard.”

“Check out all the photos,” as I passed him the Calendar Section.

He instantly saw himself playing the Rimsky-Korsakov with Jake. He crumpled instantly, back into a pout.

“Com’n Jack, He’s a great guy. You played well together. Stop competing for my heart. If you win, I’ll lose him. I’m not in love.”

 

I’m not in love
So don’t forget it
It’s just a silly phase I’m going through
And just because
I call you up
Don’t get me wrong, don’t think you’ve got it made
I’m not in love, no no, it’s because

Songwriters: ERIC STEWART, GRAHAM GOULDMAN

© EMI Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, SCHUBERT MUSIC PUBLISHING INC.

 

As I sang to him, his doubts disappeared, accepting that his place in my heart was secure. Then, the doubts rushed back in, as he realized I may be singing about him. As I completed the song, he clutched me, not willing to let go. He finally opened his heart to me. Maybe it was worth cheating to break him down enough to open up again. Jace joined us in my bed. Max sat beside it and barked.

“No. We’re not going to Robby’s,” Jack declared.

We all laughed, knowing how Jack changed when stoned. He was so insecure.

As if by cue, Robby swung in my window.

“All made-up, my little chickadees? Time for make-up pizza to celebrate our grand return to fame. How much did we get paid for last night?”

“Mike Sr put a thousand dollars in each of our trust funds.”

“That sucks. I havta go to college to spend it.”

“What about Mr. Clark’s offer to get you into Rollins?”

“That’s just high school with ash trays.”

 

We all piled into Jack’s Cabriolet. Jace was sitting on the trunk, whooping it up, while Max chased us down the street, barking.  Soon all the neighborhood dogs had joined him. Only Winston wouldn’t leave his yard. Good boy.

After ordering pizza, Robby rolled a joint as an appetizer.  He refused to let Jack smoke.

“You’ll just hump Tim ‘cause ya got yer boyfriend back and then start cryin’ again ‘cause ya lost ‘im in the first place. Here,” he handed me a joint, ‘spark it up when yer alone together. No one wants y’all fagging off whiles we eat.” Robby winked.

“How about you and Mr. Clark?” I switched our attention to Robby.

“There ain’t nothin’ ta tell.”

“Maybe if you grow up and go to college, you’ll find you actually have a heart. He’ll be so pleased.”

“Don’t be fantasizing about my non-existent love life.”

“You and Mary no longer together now that she’s in college?”

“She ain’t got time for me.”

“Maybe she don’t want to hang out with the junior high stoner club in your bedroom.”

“Don’t stop y’all from comin’ over.”

“Max makes me. He craves his daily fix of second-hand smoke.”

“When will you grow up and stop believin’ in ghosts?”

Jace slapped him. He looked all around. Everyone else laughed. I relented my anti-pot crusade. Pizza had arrived. I slipped out and called Flo from a pay phone, asking the three of them to come to Sorrento’s.  When they arrived, the boys whooped and welcomed them. Hanging with just guys was just not mature any more. Flo slipped into the booth next to me and promptly snapped my briefs.  It pleased her that she still turned me on. Edi had Jack’s attention and his disgruntled mood disappeared. Michael called Jenna, who arrived as we finished to take him away to high school life again.

“Michael’s still living out high school drama,” I remarked after they left. “I told Mike Sr. to get him a job so he doesn’t miss college social life.”

“I think he joined one of those frats where we played,” Robby was more in the know.

“Oh, the horror,” we laughed. “We should get the Out-Crowd to climb that mango tree and bombard him.”

We sat there reliving old band days.

“Now that yer in Hollywood, why not get us to reunite there and storm the music industry?” Robby suggested.

“My job is to line up a band to play 50’s covers in a movie. At first, I thought it’d be perfect for ‘False Gods. But I hired a black band instead.”

“You asshole,” Robby felt betrayed.  “I’d die to go to Hollywood.”

“I can’t be in a cover band anymore,” I explained. “Even last night we played covers. And the songs about our lives don’t really say what we do now.”

Maybe rock n roll was a high school fantasy and college is where you give up that dream.

“So, you’ve just moved on, like ya did on poor ol’ Jack,” Robby was never one to stop rubbing salt in a wound.

“We all have, except for you. What’s keeping you hiding away in your bedroom with 15-year-olds?”

“Don’t give me shit. At least I stay high. You obviously don’t maintain.”

“I’m maintaining life, not the past. Com’n out and see for yourself. There’s always bands in Hollywood that need a good drummer.”

He just stared at me.

I turned to the girls. “How’s college life? Your parents still bein’ over-protective?”

Flo spoke up, “That ends when they marry us off. College life is great. I might actually be learning something. We’re planning on getting an apartment off campus together.”

“Parental warning.”

“Maybe we’ll come out to Hollywood, too. But not until the summer.”

“The Jacettes – ready to storm Hollywood.” My tiny apartment would make great grist for a soap opera.

The waiter brought us our bill, no longer on the godfather’s complimentary list. I paid.

“Let’s go swimming at Jack’s,” I suggested. On the way out, I called Tommy in Lauderdale. He was out the door before I hung up.

 

Mummy and Daddy retreated to the sitting room when we showed up. Jack assured Mummy that all was fine again between the two of us. I swam laps until Tommy showed up. It turned into a raucous splash party with everyone in the pool.

As we lay on the deck, working on our non-existent tans, Mr. Stone drew me aside.

“Dorothy says you boys made up.”

“For the twentieth time, yes.”

“I realize you’re both just eighteen, but I’ve become very fond of you. Not just because you’ve drawn Johnny out of his shell. I hope you know I’ll always consider you part of the family.”

Dad’s voice reiterated his premise that the rich remain possessive of everything, especially people.

“You’ve already done so much for me. My dad’s middle class values insist that I be able to reciprocate, and not just by loving your son. I’ll always try to make you proud of me.”

“I’ve come to like being middle class. Just don’t tell Mummy.”

We laughed. Still no BankAmericard, but I had my own bank account and a trust fund – a true sign of being middle class is aspiring to move up.

 

Isabelle cooked for the whole crew. Everyone but me got steaks. Somehow a chicken cordon bleu appeared before me. That lady loved me. I loved her cooking.  After dinner we retired to the sitting room. Mummy requested a song. Everyone but Jack and I were exhausted from the previous night. I got up and sang my sappy love song to Jack, without accompaniment. He loved it and of course, Mummy was in seventh heaven.

Love II

 

“I never feel this way.

Happy and full of play.”

I wake up every day,

You’re by my side,

You reach and touch,

I say goodbye.

 

There is no future,

But we have now.

Don’t ask,

some way,

somehow.”

 

“We’re perfect for each other,

I never think of another.”

Can’t be love, but who can say

I know you’re here to stay?”

 

There’s no future,

But we have now.

Don’t ask,

some way,

somehow.”

 

 

‘We can’t live by ourselves.

We need people that we love

We hate those who hate themselves

We know what they’re made of.

 

Love, love, love

 

I need your love

I need your love

I need your love

I need you

 

No histrionics and I didn’t go down on my knees in front of the little nerd. Everyone but Tommy was entranced. He was the only high school kid there. He had to leave by nine to get Auntie Em’s car back on time. I walked out to the car with him. Sitting together on the front bench seat, he slid over to me and we cuddled.

“Y’all was right, Huck, I ain’t rilly gay. But there’s times my asshole just aches fer yer. I’s taught my girlfriends to use their finger up there. Gets me off so hard, they wants to do it all the time. Only trouble is, all I’s thinking about is y’all, up my butt.”

We laughed. I had no advice about that problem. We kissed for the longest time. I figured I was kissing away his faggy youth. He still was just sixteen.

Next it was time for the Jacettes to leave. Flo and I took a long walk, talking about all the changes in our lives. She never doubted that I did love her and cherished all the memories of our semi-sexual encounters. She prided herself for not betraying her virginity and happy I had shown her ways to be fully satisfied without vaginal coitus. That is not what we talked about. It was our hopes and plans for the future. Living off-campus with Edi and Mary had her all excited. She even thought Jenna might join them next school year, although she didn’t think a rich girl would want to live with three Puerto Ricans.

“As long as you all go to Church, her parents will be fine,” I predicted.

“We can’t give up Pastor Santos,” she exclaimed.

“It’s not the sect that’s important but the fact that you’re trying to lead a good life. Our college girlfriends’ parents were shocked that we made their daughters go to Catholic services, but their attitudes were ancient.”

“What is your college girlfriend like?” Flo was conflicted about sharing me.

“She’s just like my twin sister, Angie. She calls me on all my crazy ideas and keeps me grounded. She counsels everyone.”

“Is she pretty?”

“She’s pretty fierce. I don’t think she has time to bother with making herself pretty.”

“Am I prettier?” she had to know.

I drew her closer and we kissed. “You are one hot mama.”

She snapped my briefs but I was already hard. She was ready to blow me, but I wasn’t about to have her on her knees in front of me. She snapped me again and I came.  Control is two-way street. I was careful not to spray her. Her eyes got bigger, as I went off several times. Luckily we were behind a tree in Jack’s fancy neighborhood. We walked back into the house, both looking guilty. Robby was quick to figure it out. Mary and Edi dragged Flo away to get the details. Jack just shook his head, knowing he’d be next.

Finally, we were alone in his room. Jace had gone home with Tommy, and Max was with Winston at my house.

“How can I love you, if I’m just one of the crowd?”

“Come here, lover. Listen to my heart,” I ordered.

He scooted over on the bed, laying his head on my chest.  As I put my arms around him and my heart rate sped up, my chest started to purr. He tried to make himself purr with pitiful results. I laughed at him.

“It’s not something you can turn on and off,” I explained. “I get freaked when it won’t stop.”

“I love it,” Jack complained. I knew not to say he wasn’t the only one. There was even Gerber in a corner of the Whiskey.

“I guess I’m too uptight to just let go and have my body take over.”

I had never thought of it that way. At first, I was afraid I was having an epileptic seizure.

“Don’t worry about your sexual proclivities and technique. You have to stop being so insecure. You still resist coming into my heart for fear you’ll find I’ve rejected you or find you inadequate.”

“I’m such a nerd,” he admitted.

“l bet you tried to nerd off with Isaac over Christmas, didn’t you?” I accused him.

He turned bright red. “It was so lame. We both wanted to be the bottom.”

I couldn’t stop laughing, visualizing them holding each other’s dicks,  both unsure how to proceed.

Somehow this made both of us horny. I pretended to be Isaac and acted insecure and unwilling to admit I wanted him.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked as I failed to jump him.

“I’m Isaac, a pitiful nerd, in need of a blow job.”

That’s all it took to get him started. I twisted his pebble hard nipples as he took my straining dick into his mouth.  He writhed and squirmed as I tortured his tits. His teeth snagged on my shaft, starting me to writhe in actual pain. He kept nibbling. He was taking out his frustrations on my dick. I shoved it deeper into his throat. Now he was nibbling on the top of my ball sac. I shoved first one and then the other testicle into his mouth. He tried to spit them out. I rocked back and forth into him. He wasn’t breathing, choking on my dick. I thought about us being found together; Jack, blue from lack of air and stiff from rigor mortis, while I was unable to escape the jaws of death. I quickly changed position. Jack was shaking as he choked, but not complaining. I pulled out, causing his dick to erupt, some S&M trigger. He looked embarrassed.

“Tommy’s right. You’re so mean,” he accused me.

“From the size of your ejaculate, you must like it that way.”

“I want you to love me.”

“You’ll never know how much I love you unless you trust yourself to be in my heart. Why do you think I was having sex so much when we were apart? I missed you.”

“You needed to have sex with someone 73 years old to replace me?”

“He’s only 72.”

Jack was indignant. He couldn’t let go and be in my heart. I was leaving in the morning and may not see him until the start of spring semester. It was more important that he learn how we could be together psychically than a one night stand by which to remember each other.

I lay there with Jack’s hand on my throbbing dick. “What do I do?” he asked.

“Don’t ask me. Ask your heart to be in mine.”

He tried so hard, but it was like Robby, unable to see Max; or, Minehan telling Jace to fuck him, when he could never let that happen. Mind control doesn’t work on your heart. These computers that let Stephen Hawking speak will never sound human; computer code and mind control have no soul.

Jack finally gave up. I instantly appeared in his heart.

“Just let me in and I’ll fuck the shit out of your heart.  Someday you’ll let go of the control and be able to love me back.”

I remembered the last time I mad crazy fucked him. We writhed together on the bed without touching. He geysered quickly. I teased two more orgasms out of him, before I let myself cum. I was laying on my back with my eyes closed. When I finally finished, I looked over and realized Jack had been staring at me the whole time.  We were both covered in spent jism. I giggled. He looked aghast, but finally giggled himself. After S&M, we had indulged in psychic sex. Both ways were perverted but highly satisfying.

We ran to the shower and cleaned up. Jack wiggled his butt and allowed me entry for regular doggy-style gay sex.  Jack felt better that we were back to normal. He slept in my arms the rest of the night. In the morning, we skipped wake-up sex for Isabelle’s Eggs Benedict, eating with Mummy and Daddy. He commented that we were not in the Sunday Herald Arts Section.

“But that Anita Bryant woman is still ranting about your sex lives. She says you perverted classical music by using an electronic piano to play Rimsky-Korsakov.”

We all laughed. Next we went to my house to say goodbye to Mom, Dad and Winston. It appeared that Max had come home for good, with Jace mostly at Tommy’s.

“You know, Dad, You’ve always been skeptical about Jace still being in my life.”

“I understand you need to believe that.”

“What would you say if Max was staying here now, to be with you?”

He gave me his most angry look,  but underneath I felt he might really want it to be so.

“You are still so weird,” he commented.

“But it’s true. Just ask Winston.” I turned to Winston and ordered, “Where’s Max?”

Winston barked at Max who was sitting quietly waiting for his next hit.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Dad argued.

“Winston just told you where Max is sitting. You can’t see him because you refuse to believe it. But you can feel him. Just call him over.”

Susan was watching us incredulously, unable to believe Dad could be so gullible. Of course, Dad refused to try. I called Max over. “Shake hands with Dad, Max,” I ordered.

Max thought this was a trick to get second-hand smoke. He laid a paw on Dad’s hand. Dad jumped up so quickly, I was afraid he’d go through the roof.  He glared at me. “Enough of your tricks. I miss that dog and don’t appreciate you making fun of me.”

Once Max heard Dad say that he missed him, he jumped up and put both paws on Dads chest.

“Enough,” Dad freaked.

“Sit, Max,” I ordered.

“Can’t you just accept that Max will always love you. Don’t worry about ghosts and spirits. I know they don’t exist in your world.”

He glared at me. Max whined. Dad heard him and looked conflicted.

“Okay, Tim. I know your imagination has been the key to all your success. If you want me to believe Max is here, I’ll try. But it won’t make up for missing you,” as he pulled me into a hug. Susan was smiling at the progress her hubby was making in being human. I pulled her into the hug. Jack insisted in joining, which broke the spell. But it was our finest family moment.

Off we went  to the airport in the pink Cabriolet. I made him put up the top and gave him a blowjob in the parking lot. I nibbled on his dick just enough to get even and cause him to explode prematurely. We were still teenagers.

Our goodbye was long and slightly tearful. Jack promised to trust me more after I had shown him what happens when he doesn’t trust. I added my three-way roommates at the Chelsea, Paul and Monte, to the list of my cheating, with Jake and Burroughs. I knew I need not make a full confession just yet. Maybe it would spark his curiosity to find out more. All he needed to do was look in my heart. It doesn’t lie. By the time we finished saying goodbye, no one in the gate area thought we were just family or friends. It was 1977. 1976, the Bicentenial of the Revolution, was over now. Get used to it.

It was a relief to be going back to LA and Hollywood.  How had my life become so complicated. I was juggling lovers at home – three girlfriends, two boyfriends, and an old geezer, plus the three-way twins. Maybe I needed to be more discriminating. LA was fun and no one cared who you fucked and who you didn’t. I was the ‘New Kid in Town’ again.

 

 

I’d even had a four-way with Jack Nicholson. My exploits with Belushi left a trail of co-eds and groupies. What about Gerber, good for humping in a time of need. With Tony and Jimmy, it was more about meeting Doug’s needs and running around teasing the Santa Monica Blvd johns. I fell asleep on the plane, coming out of a nightmare as we descended into the LA Basin – all my fucks had ganged up on me and were chasing me through the streets of Hollywood. I couldn’t find the Wreck in order to escape them.

Exiting the jetway, I spotted Jake waiting for me. I rushed into his arms for a hug.  It was a relief that I didn’t start purring or vibrating. He seemed disappointed. I assured him it was a positive that I didn’t start to meltdown when I got near him.

“But it is so cute,” he explained.

“Look how much trouble it got me into.”

He laughed. “Welcome back to la la land where no cares if you vibrate.”

“Me, the human dildo.”

“No, you’re such an animal, an armadillo.

“That’ll be my new song. Or how about a band called the Armadildos?”

“You could wear rubber armadillo suits.”

Joking reminded me that it was Sunday afternoon, time for locals only at the Whiskey. I figured Jake was maxed out on our rock n roll circus. He drove me to the Canterbury, agreeing he’d only come up for a few minutes. Two blow jobs later, he drove me to the Whiskey. I spotted the Wreck parked at Tower Records  – Nicky and Alice were at the show. I kissed Jake goodbye, thanking him for picking me up. We agreed to go out to dinner after work on Monday.

I ran into the pit area and was instantly surrounded by my new friends, the LMPs, Safety’s coterie of chubby girls, Craig from the Bags,  and people from Orange County I had never met but just wanted to be excited  about something. Nicky and Alice handed me the Wreck’s keys.

“I suppose we’ve lost our ride,” Nicky complained.

“Just when I’m at work, but you never get up that early,” I winked at him.

He punched me on the arm. “You gots to build some muscle, boy,” he always had crazy advice.

I pulled out one of Robby’s specials, accepting that my popularity had more to do with my unending supply of joints than any personality traits. High school dealing proved to be good training for adulthood.  After getting everyone high, we started dancing to the recorded music being played by the sound guy in the booth. He had cool taste with many of the new English bands. The new Sex Pistols single had come out, ‘God Save the Queen’ and got us all excited, bouncing around.

 

 

The LMPs wanted me to sing the Sham lyrics to ‘Kids United’. After the first verse, everyone joined in. The band waited for us to end, as we had everyone jumping up and down, with our arms around each other.

 

 

We kept it up, with the sound engineer keeping the band powered down. Finally he played the newest Sex Pistols song ‘Holiday in the Sun.’ I got all sentimental (or mental) thinking it was me, escaping from cold, wintry Boston.

 

 

It was what I needed – ‘a reason, the Berlin Wall.’

The show was halted while we turned it into a punk disco.  Finally the band walked off stage in disgust.

“Come back,” we yelled, not wanting to ruin their moment of fame.

 

Nicky and Alice grabbed me, pulling me outside on the sidewalk.

“Ya can’t help yourself. Back five minutes and ya havta be the center of attention.”
“It’s called performance addiction. Here, smoke this,” I held out a joint, ‘you can be the center of your own attention.”

“Fuck that shit,” Nicky never smoked. Alice took it and lit it up. We quickly had a crowd on the curb.

“Better go to Tower and hang by the car,” Nicky was keeping an eye out for cops. 

I put the top down, noticing that the electric motor was burnt out. It had to be done by hand. The Wreck complained, with squeaks and groans. I was not about to be denied. It was the last time the top was up. There were about ten of us hanging out at Tower. The manager came out and took our photo. 

“Are you going to bust us?” someone asked.

“No way. We’ll use it to show that real people shop at Tower Records.”

We felt smug, being called ‘real.’ We were really the dregs of society, at least in our own minds. I was liberated from Harvard exceptionalism. I was entitled to hang out.

We never went back in the Whiskey, instead heading for Oki Dog. I had the munchies. Oki Yoki was pleased to see me back. It was another slow Sunday night on a holiday weekend. We all got oki dogs after promising to entertain the cruisers looking for rent boys. We had no instruments, so Nicky started pounding on a round plastic picnic table, while I sang ‘Bob Dylan don’t bop tonight’ to Helium Bar. Nicky yelled at me to stop singing as he sang the correct lyrics. Like most drummers, he couldn’t sing. At least I learned the correct lyrics: ‘Bop to Helium Bar tonight.’ Since it was a one line lyric, everyone learned it and joined in. Nicky thought he was the conductor. We all promised not to tell John Denney.

One of the johns parked in the parking lot. Instead of going to buy an oki dog, he tried hitting on one of the LMPs, Steve, the battered housewife.  All the LMPs jumped in to ‘save’ Steve, who looked conflicted. The john escaped with a minor beating. He outweighed the kids by 50 pounds but was terrified. Oki Yoki was pissed that we were scaring off his clients. The real hustlers were mad that we were cutting into their trade. We all went over to Astro Burger. I had to pay. It was worth it, as they had onion rings on the menu.

“Yer a rich bitch, ain’tcha?” Steve observed.

“I have a job. I actually get paid to do this.”

“What? Beat up faggots,” Eddie asked.

“No. Get bands for a movie.”

“I heard you rejected the Weirdos.”

“They’ll never forgive me.”

“How come Nicky’s your friend, then?”

“Free food,” I answered. Nicky was eating everyone else’s fries. He reminded me of Minehan, without any musical talent, except drumming. I wasn’t sure what talent that took, except stamina and rhythm.

The LMPs were watching the pickup action across the street.

“Get over there, Ennis. Make us some money,” Eddie ordered.

Steve looked distressed, but did as ordered, obedient as ever. I felt sorry for him, after he got no action at all. It was a slow night. I bought a bunch of fries and told the LMPs to watch. I went across the street and got the real prostitutes to sing a Capella to Mott the Hopple’s ‘All the Hung Dudes.”

 

 

Traffic picked up, with all the boys singing for their supper. Oki Yoki  looked pleased. I grabbed Steve and brought an oki dog across the street for Nicky. Again Steve looked like he had missed out on something he wasn’t sure he wanted.

I needed a hetero fix. We drove to Larrabee Studios. Jimmy said Joan was back from the Japanese tour.  The Runaways were in hiatus, so Kim Fowley wasn’t paying for studio time. She was living down the street from the Whiskey. We drove back to Tower Records, telling the LMPs they were on their own. Nicky, Alice and I went and knocked on her door on North San Vicente. After pounding for a minute, she finally opened it, looking totally stoned.

She stared at me, until she realized who I was.

“Tim, what’s up?”

“This is Alice and Nicky. They’re in bands. We want to hang out.”

“Oh, man. Not a good time. I’m pretty wasted.”

“Really?” I grabbed her and gave her my best lip lock.

“Hang on, cowboy,” she complained. “Com’n inside.”

Her all girls-in-leather posse was in a corner, as well as several nodded out junkies on the couch. It was my first trip to an opium den. There were no surprises, after Joey’s, then Robby and Iggy’s, exploits in NYC.

“How long you been back?” I asked.

“Since Christmas,” she mumbled. “I got my pay from the tour. I haven’t been outside since.”

She pointed to the shambles that was her apartment. I could believe it. Her posse looked at me, hopeful I could rescue their heroine from heroin.

“You’re such a junkie,” I laughed.

She glared at me, and then laughed. “Yer right. Too much cash and too much time.”

“I’m taking you away from here,” I decided.

“I can’t leave. I’ll get ripped off,” she worried.

I looked around. There was nothing to steal.

“What can they take?” I asked.

Joan thought a second. “My guitars and amp.”

“Perfect. We’ll go to Oki Dog and serenade your fans from the boulevard.”

She liked that idea. The posse jumped up, ready to go anywhere after a week of Joan’s nodding. Nicky walked with me to get the Wreck. I drove  to her place and loaded two guitars and a practice amp in the trunk. Alice had been trying to sober Joan up a bit without much success.

“I thought she would be more together,” he remarked, apparently forgiving my pot habit, heroin being higher on his list of no-no’s.

“Super dick to the rescue,” I crowed. “She’ll perk up.”

“Ten minutes ago, you were trolling queers on the Santa Monica. Now you’re Mr. Straight?”

“Straight is great. Gay’s my fate,” I quipped.

He punched me again.  I remembered the no gay rule for being a Hollywood punk. I’d try harder.

The posse rode in the back, as the four of us rode up front. Oki Yoki was not pleased when I showed up again. It had been a slow night.

“I found a guitarist,” I pointed to the half-comatose Joan. “We’ll get those dogs sold.”

He gave me a thumbs up. We plugged in at the side and Joan and I tuned together. She had been slacking on her equipment.

“Let’s do, ‘All the Young Dudes,” I suggested, knowing the boys knew the words from earlier. She knew that one and we soon had all the tricks singing with us. Nicky was banging on the table again. Alice did back ups,  echoing the chorus, like in a round. It didn’t take long for the cruisers to start circling the block.

“Let’s do a song for the boys,” I suggested. “Cheap Trick.”

“Cool,” Joan agreed, “’I Want You to Want Me.’”

 

 

The boys with long hair (all of them) shook it round and round, their asses going in the opposite direction. They were going to cause accidents, as drivers lost their focus staring at blonde boys shaking it on Santa Monica.

Joan grinned at all the boys shaking their asses to get laid for pay.

“Hey, don’tcha know that ‘Love Hurts’ when ya bend over?”

 

Joan ran out to the curb and taunted the cruisers, “Don’t You Want to Touch me.”

 

 

Traffic came to a halt. I heard sirens. We threw the guitars and amp into the Wreck and went to get our reward – oki dog supremes – extra chili, extra cheese. The Sheriffs arrived. We pretended to be innocent.

“Okay,” they recognized me. “Your concert is over tonight.”

We pretended to look offended at being interrupted from our dinner. The cops laughed. Oki Yoki brought them their oki dogs. No one was arrested for having fun. We ended the evening singing a Capella ‘Ain’t That a Shame.’

 

The Sheriffs joined in, thinking we were doing Fats Domino or Pat Boone.

Joan had perked up. We jumped in the wreck and drove down to Larrabee Studios, but it was closed. Business was slow with the Runaways breaking up.

“Why’d you break up?” I asked, not able to imagine ever giving up success.

“Cheri’s a bitch, the other two are pussies, and I’m the junkie.”

No argument there. “What’s next?”

“I’m taking a break.”

“Break’s over,” Nicky crowed.

“Argh,” she groaned.

“No time to slack off. Let’s go.”

We jumped into the Wreck and headed for the Canterbury.

“I’m going home,” Joan gave me directions.

“Back to junkieland. No way. You’re coming home me with me,” I insisted.

Nicky and Alice giggled, happy to have me back in heteroland.

“But. But, what about those lowlifes at my place?”

“They’ll leave once you haven’t provided their next fix.”

I turned to her posse. “Where should I drop you.”

They were just happy Joan was off her binge. I took them to Beverly Hills where one of them lived.

As we drove back up Santa Monica, we all sang ‘Cherry Bomb.’

 

 

Nicky remembered someone had given him actual firecrackers. We tossed a string of them out at Oki Dog. The troops scattered. Yoki Oki shook his fist at me. I waved.

 

It was just after midnight when we got to the Canterbury. Alice and Nicky had an agenda, much similar to mine. Joan was bemused. I was pleased that her bag of tricks, including the strap-on, was still at North San Vicente. It would be all me tonight. I’d make sure to prime the pump before getting down and dirty. I didn’t want her missing her posse.

“Nice,” Joan commented on my Spartan one room place.

“Functional,” I replied, swinging the Murphy Bed  around and dropping it on the floor.

“Oh, no preliminaries?”

“Oh, I know what you need,” I announced, sitting her on the bed. I sat next to her and put my hand inside the back of her tee-shirt. I started scratching the cool, clammy skin. She moaned in appreciation.

“Keep doing that.”

“Lay down on your stomach,” I ordered.

She was quick to comply. We lay together as I worked on her back, scratching up and down. She completely relaxed. I pulled the tee-shirt off. She wasn’t wearing a bra.. I pulled her jeans off, leaving the panties for later. After about five minutes, she started responding to my fingernail message.

“How did you know to do this?”

“My cousin’s a junkie. He taught me when he was coming down.”

“So, you feel I’m like your cousin.”

“No way. He lacks tits,” as I pinched the flaccid nipples. They perked right up.

Joan shivered. I scratched just below the folds of her tits, making her writhe.

“Stop. Stop,” she complained. It was too much stimulation.

I returned to scratching her back. Then, I ran my fingernails through her hair. She responded by rolling her head side to side.  We kept at it, a slow tease to bring her down from the heroin high and slowly ramp up her sexual desire.

“So, did your cousin take advantage of you?” Joan had a perverted twist of mind.

“Naw, but I fully took advantage of him.”

“When did this happen?”

“When I was 14.”

“Oh, my god.”

“Don’t worry. He made sure I learned to appreciate girls.”

She wanted to talk as I worked on her. I related all my experiences with Joey.

“He’s the one you came out to rescue last spring?”

“Yeah. He’s running a club back East. We played there several times while I was at Harvard.”

“Maybe we should have a band,” she suggested.

“Yeah. The Runaway Perverts.”

We giggled. I went to work on her feet. It tickled and made her laugh more. I ran my fingernails up the inside of her legs. She writhed like a snake, twisting and rolling on the bed. I sang in a sotto voice, Tom Petty’s ‘You’re so bad.’

 

 

My sister got lucky, married a yuppie
Took him for all he was worth
Now she’s a swinger dating a singer
I can’t decide which is worse

But not me baby, I’ve got you to save me
Oh yer so bad, best thing I ever had
In a world gone mad, yer so bad

My sister’s ex-husband can’t get no lovin’
Walks around dog-faced and hurt
Now he’s got nothin’, head in the oven
I can’t decide which is worse

But not me baby, I’ve got you to save me
Oh yer so bad, best thing I ever had
In a world gone mad, yer so bad’

 

Songwriters: TOM PETTY, JEFF LYNNE

© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

 

Joan rolled over and sang the chorus with me, over and over.

“Who’s song’s that?”

“Tom Petty. He has all these song that tell crazy soap opera stories. I’ve hired him to work on the movie. He’ll learn how to make films and make his story songs into videos.”

“I wanna do that. Music videos are so boring, just watching the band play. Hire me, too. I need a job now that the Runaways are done.”

“Really. You’re really breaking up?”

“Yup. I hate those bitches and Kim has been ripping us off.”

“Welcome to Hollywood.”

“Hire me,” she demanded.

My Hollywood casting couch – the Murphy Bed.

“Okay, but never tell anyone that I hired you in the middle of fucking?”

“Then you better get to it. I’m sick of the tickling.”

She rolled over and presented herself to me. I slipped her panties down, giving her butt cheeks a final scratch. She arched and wrapped her legs around my waist. I had been hard for ages. She pulled down my pants, shaking her head at the fancy briefs.  They were soaked from pre-cum. She licked the tip of my dick through the briefs,  before pulling them down. Giving my dick an appraising look, she smiled and took it fully down her throat. We hadn’t even kissed yet. I decided that would come after we  fucked. I slid her legs up to give me access to her pussy. I nosed around, realizing that a week of heroin abuse didn’t include showering. Time to forget niceties. I licked the labia and started probing inside with my tongue.  She would have no more of it, insisting on real dick. I was willing and fully able. I slide her back down, with her legs crossed on the small of my back. My pussy eating had made her nice and wet, plus my excessive pre-cum. I smeared the pussy by rubbing my dick head across and into the folds. Joan was already squeezing on my dick’s tip. Time to enter the kingdom of pussy. We rocked together. As she pulsed, I pushed deeper and deeper with each squeeze.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” She screamed as I fully invaded her cunt.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah,” I moaned back, thrusting with each word.

Fully inside, we rocked back and forth. Her cries became growls as the thrust reached the furthest depths – her pussy soul. I thrust faster and faster. She came for the first time. I remained rigid and locked-in, as the orgasm peaked. A flood of pussy juice spurt past my dick, soaking the Murphy Bed. That was a new experience. The girl could cum. It was not just lubricant. She was a gusher. I started to laugh. She was insulted. I went back to fucking her seriously. Her need became growls as a second orgasm approached. She was intently staring at me, wanting us to cum simultaneously. I visualized a breaking wave hitting the backwash from a prior wave retreating from the beach.  Her growls reached a peak. Holding her butt with both hands, I went rigid. Her whole body jerked. My dick went off, deep inside her cunt. The backwash sprayed the bed sheets again. My groin and thighs were soaked. We collapsed into the pool of mixed fluids, slithering together. I went instantly to sleep, old habits never completely die. It took her a few minutes to gather her wits. Then she slapped me awake.

“I need a shower,” she decided. “You, too. You smell like rotten hotdogs.” Thanks Oki Dog.

We cleaned up in the shower. Jack had bought spare sheets. I stripped the bed and we remade it. I slipped into her arms. I went instantly to sleep.

About an hour later, I woke up with Joan shivering beside me. Withdrawal (from drugs, not sex). I started scratching her again. She calmed down. I put a blanket over us, continuing the scratching and eventually rubbing her all over. We both fell asleep. 

I woke up with Joan warm and relaxed beside me. It was time to go to work. Before I left, I woke her, saying I’d be back at noon to get her. She nodded and went back to her dreams. I knew they were about me.