Friday, October 13, 2006
Altamont, 1969 (Pt.2)
That first night with D and J was our only night together as a threesome. But it was a lovely experience.
D came onto me, and we started to have intercourse while J watched. J was really into watching. I discovered I was really into performing, and so was D for that matter. My lover G was correct about him, he was the best lover I had run across too. He was not all that big, but he certainly had been married for a while, and that showed in his expertise.
He fucked me for a while in the usual missionary position, which happens to be my favorite position of all when I am with a man. Why am I such a fuddyduddy about the missionary? Well, pardon me, it works for me. Very well, thanks.
D knew instinctively what some guys know, also instinctively, but what many guys never get to: that women like grinding movements, men like in-out. His ex-wife had trained him well.
He must have realized though that I didn't quite get off on the first fuck, so after he came he pressed his pubic bone directly on top of mine. After a minute or two of this, I came alright, and boy did I.
J was very impressed. For some reason she did not allow her ex to fuck her that night. But she was certainly all eyes.
I would have loved to have spent the full night there, but the Stones were giving their free concert at Altamont Pass the next morning. I did not plan on missing that, so after our little romp I rode home and caught a few hours of sleep.
When I woke up and went into the living room, one of my two roommates, L, with whom I had been intimate for one night some months earlier, was sitting on the sofa weeping copious tears. Her lover and our third roommate, K, was giving L grief. K was going out with one of my friends, S, with whom I had also been intimate on one occasion. Basically these women and I were friends, and we crossed the line once together. That was cool with everyone.
For some reason that morning the sight of L boo-hooing over her lover stepping out on her just pressed all my buttons. I gave her hell. "Don't just sit there and cry about life, get out there and do something to get yourself out of this funk," I think I said, or words to that effect. She yelled back with just as much vigor. "Listen, asshole, this is my life and I'll bawl if I want to," said she, or words to that effect. It never occurred to me to ask her if she wanted to see the Stones. Why bother? She was in such a funk it would have been a downer for all concerned.
The Stones deserved better. They deserved me. So I got out of that place and left L to stew in her tears and headed off to Altamont.
TO BE CONTINUED
D came onto me, and we started to have intercourse while J watched. J was really into watching. I discovered I was really into performing, and so was D for that matter. My lover G was correct about him, he was the best lover I had run across too. He was not all that big, but he certainly had been married for a while, and that showed in his expertise.
He fucked me for a while in the usual missionary position, which happens to be my favorite position of all when I am with a man. Why am I such a fuddyduddy about the missionary? Well, pardon me, it works for me. Very well, thanks.
D knew instinctively what some guys know, also instinctively, but what many guys never get to: that women like grinding movements, men like in-out. His ex-wife had trained him well.
He must have realized though that I didn't quite get off on the first fuck, so after he came he pressed his pubic bone directly on top of mine. After a minute or two of this, I came alright, and boy did I.
J was very impressed. For some reason she did not allow her ex to fuck her that night. But she was certainly all eyes.
I would have loved to have spent the full night there, but the Stones were giving their free concert at Altamont Pass the next morning. I did not plan on missing that, so after our little romp I rode home and caught a few hours of sleep.
When I woke up and went into the living room, one of my two roommates, L, with whom I had been intimate for one night some months earlier, was sitting on the sofa weeping copious tears. Her lover and our third roommate, K, was giving L grief. K was going out with one of my friends, S, with whom I had also been intimate on one occasion. Basically these women and I were friends, and we crossed the line once together. That was cool with everyone.
For some reason that morning the sight of L boo-hooing over her lover stepping out on her just pressed all my buttons. I gave her hell. "Don't just sit there and cry about life, get out there and do something to get yourself out of this funk," I think I said, or words to that effect. She yelled back with just as much vigor. "Listen, asshole, this is my life and I'll bawl if I want to," said she, or words to that effect. It never occurred to me to ask her if she wanted to see the Stones. Why bother? She was in such a funk it would have been a downer for all concerned.
The Stones deserved better. They deserved me. So I got out of that place and left L to stew in her tears and headed off to Altamont.
TO BE CONTINUED
