I Have A Dream - Part III

The History, part III

Two years after that, I "looked L. up" (looked him up in order to come in contact with J., his girlfriend) again. I was a pretty different person: My hair was two years' long, and I was very tan and fit, from working outside every day, and I had a cool car. I can't believe I can't remember the details, but somehow I lucked out and ran into her outside her apartment she shared with three guys. I can't remember how I even knew where she lived, but that week she was just moving out from (which I knew meant "breaking up with") my friend L., or should I say, from L.'s dad's house, where they lived.

What I do remember is, she looked phenomenal. Her figure was truly a perfect 10. Her waist must have been 20", and her ass was incredibly round; muscular, not fat (not that a fat ass is bad). She was definitely a woman now. Her round breasts levitated as if they were filled with helium, and a sexy grin forced its way across her creamy face as she looked me up and down on the summer sidewalk. I had never been eyeballed so overtly, and it was incredibly flattering. I had never thought of myself as hot before, but I knew I was now fit and decent looking. She suggested we should hang out when she got done moving, and asked for my phone number, and gave me hers.

That Friday night at 9:00 P.M., the phone rang. Or should I say, my mom's phone rang - I, too, like my friend L., was living at home after finishing part of college. It was J. on the phone; she invited me over. I casually but enthusiastically accepted. I didn't want to sound too eager, or it might blow what I saw as the small chance I thought may have had to have sex with her. When I hung up though, I sprinted to my car, which I had heavily modified: Bigger engine, better transmission, three carburetors, exhaust headers, deep and rumbly muffler, wide wheels and tires, etc. By the time I was closing the driver's door with my left hand, I had started the engine with the key in my right, and was reaching for the gearshift. I raced to the freeway, powersliding sideways around corners like I was in a car commercial or action movie. Once on the freeway, I put the orange needle on 140 mph and the missiles on cruise while I chanted "Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease, please god let me get laid. Please god let me get laid. PLEASE god let me get laid!"

Thirteen minutes later I pulled up to her house, took a moment to compose myself, and went up the stairs. "Oh my god, you sure got here fast! That was like 15 minutes!" I flipped my long hair and feigned offhandedness: "Oh really? Hm. I guess there was no traffic." I lived 45 minutes away, and behind me my car's exhaust system emitted a telling dull orange glow underneath the car, making a fast tick-tick-tick sound as it cooled down. The automotive equivalent of a horse that's been run hard and put away wet.

We hung out in her eclectic bedroom watching public access TV and a documentary on Lotto winners, until late at night. I was just a kid, didn't know what was up or how to be smooth yet - or assertive - so finally late at night, she made a move with the old "I need a backrub" ploy. I was such a dumbass, I thought I MIGHT see a tiny pinprick of a chance on the horizon. When she pulled off her tank top (no bra) face down so I could massage just her skin, I prayed I could somehow slowly sneak my way around to her breasts. But finally she just flipped over. Hmm. Pierced nipples, too. Hmm.

I will take this moment to explain that the entire night, she sneezed repeatedly, since she was allergic to my shampoo or conditioner.

As I played with her breasts, she became irritated. Her attitude, not her nipples. She wanted me to move the piercings in a certain way, and apparently it felt good when L. did it and uncomfortable when I did it.

We made out, and I went down on her, but kept my jeans and boots on. Her pussy was the most acidic-tasting of any woman I'd been with before or since. And feeling inside her was another unique sensation I have yet to find again: she was smooth inside. I mean way more than normal; it was like I was feeling a shiny silicone rubber surface. The strangest thing.

L. had introduced her to both masturbation and orgasms, and I don't know whether he was just heavy handed, or her sexual response needed a lot of stimulus, or she just typically has sex when she's not really turned on yet, but, she informed me that her clit had to be rubbed VERY vigorously for a long time in order to have an orgasm. Sometimes, she says, she injures herself.

Finally at like 4 a.m. I asked her whether she had to go to sleep so she could work tomorrow. Suddenly she was really pissed: "We both KNEW that's what was up when I called you at 9 o'clock on a Friday night." "I didn't! I mean, I was hoping..." "Whatever. Just go, then." "Nononono," I protested, and managed to talk my way back into the gates of heaven, which, unbeknownst to rookie me, had been wide open and waiting the entire time.

But I couldn't enter. I had whacked off like four times earlier that day, and I was so nervous, it was like trying to put a marshmallow into a parking meter.

The whole experience was very uncomfortable. But she was really hot and I knew I wanted more.

Over the next couple of months, we sort of dated. It was an exciting fling - and by the way, that night we spent talking, a couple years prior? She said she had wanted me to nail her. Dammit!