by U
Before going broke, the previous owner tried to turn it into a
restaurant. As it is, he fixed the place up pretty nicely. It’s all
hardwood floors, high ceilings, and great big windows. The old
storefront looks brand new and I told Nick the annex is perfect for a
poetry fest.
Of course, as the great white poetry celebrity, Nick feels he is
entitled to dally with his pick of the native women. He invited Mary
Wong over here last night and slept with her. I had no idea until I saw
her coming out of his room this morning when I went down to stoke
the furnace.
Nick’s really on a spree now that the Sheriff (Clarice) has finally
split town.
I’m disappointed that my work on The Dark City goes so slowly.
The satire is good, but is probably too strong for most people. They
prefer more tepid entertainments. My idea of a good read is
Nathanael West.
He only managed to write four books and short ones at that: Miss
Lonelyhearts, A Cool Million, The Dream Life of Balso Snell, and The
Day of The Locust.
Every West novel is creepy, weird, and hilarious. I especially like
A Cool Million.
"Rockefeller would pay a cool million to have a stomach like
yours," goes the saying. West was a skilled craftsman. Every word
counted.
I called Jill Deskins from work while Megan was out of the office
the other day to see what’s what. Don’t ask me why. I suppose it’s
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because I’ve gotten two letters from her since Christmas and have
replied to neither.
Until now. On the phone, Jill practically pleaded with me to come
see her again. After some hemming and hawing, I finally agreed.
So, I am going to see Jill in Eugene next weekend. If Megan can
fuck around with me, I can fuck around with her. This is what you
call your basic revenge fuck. It’s never worked for me in the past but
I’m going to try it again anyhow.
Really do have my qualms about seeing Jill again. She is so eager
to see me that I don’t know what to make of it. This is such a change
from a year ago. In her past two letters, she said she was sorry for not
appreciating me before.
The reason she gave was that she had known hardly any men until
she moved to Eugene in 1976, and had little to compare me to. Now
that she is more experienced, Jill says my qualities as a friend and a
lover stand out "in sharp contrast."
Jill blames it on the all-female boarding school she attended in San
Francisco, which she says featured an extremely poor (unless you
were a dyke) dating scene.
She promises that we will have a very good time and can do
whatever I want. The last time I saw Jill she ridiculed the idea of ever
getting married or settling down with just one person. She even
detailed her thoughts at length in a couple of very annoying letters,
one of which I copied into this journal. In short, she flatly rejected
me.
Now Jill has apparently changed her mind and since Megan has
flaked out on me, I am willing to reconsider. Still, I am acutely aware
that taking up with Jill again flies in the face of common sense and
good judgment.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Dark City
February 5, 1979
Lots to write about. These weekends are getting more hectic all the
time. Yes, I did go see Jill in Eugene on Friday. All day long I had
these terrible second thoughts about seeing her again so I called her to
see if I could back out of our date.
No such luck. Jill declared she would come here to see me if I did
not come there. No mind changing allowed.
So off I went.
It was pretty strange, getting together with Jill again after nearly
two years of shunning. I know that I am certifiably insane for taking
up with her again, but circumstances being what they are, and coupled
with my own curiosity, I was unable to resist the lure.
The results were both good and bad. In previous times, the back
and forth between Jill and me had been rocky but the sex was always
good for me and (apparently) great for her.
For reasons I don’t fully comprehend, Jill loves to be bossed around
in bed although in no other area of her life.
At the same time, in previous encounters between us, she could be
oddly inhibited about the smallest things, like not wanting me to stare
at her when she’s naked or refusing to let me cum in her mouth. In
other words, I left for Eugene Friday at 5:00 PM prepared for the
worst.
Having been on the receiving end of some insulting words from
her, I was more than wary and prepared to flee at the first sign of
trouble. Nothing of the sort occurred, I am happy to report. From the
moment I knocked at her door to the moment I left on Sunday, Jill did
everything in her power, I thought, to please me.
Soon after I entered her apartment, we fell to kissing, and things
quickly escalated from there. As in old times, the longer I kissed Jill,
the more excited she became. She likes getting kissed, with the
tongues busy. Jill is indeed a woman who likes to kiss. And I of
course can kiss, without getting bored, for hours on end if need be.
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Another reminder of old times was the fact that Jill has let her hair
grow long, which is the way I prefer it. She has this huge mass of
wavy brown hair which has an almost satin cast to it. The lustrous
shag reaches to the middle of her back.
I have to say I really disliked that curled short look she had back in
the summer of 1977, which except for the color, made for a Harpo
Marx hairdo.
Me, I’m never in a hurry to stop kissing. My darling, let us kiss
kiss kiss. Please – you decide when you want to fuck. In the
meanwhile, let us go on kissing.
There is something so intimate about passing your tongue in and
out of your lover’s mouth. It gives me such an erection.
Jill finally broke the kiss, breathlessly, taking off her glasses. She
was actually panting.
"I’d forgotten what an effect you have on me, Patrick," Jill said.
"I’m so turned on right now I can hardly believe it. My panties are
soaking wet. What about you?"
"Feel this," I said, which is my standard response to such questions
from women. Showing is better than saying, in my humble opinion.
Jill felt me, cooing her approval at the steel-hard erection I had
swelling underneath my tan, corduroy jeans.
"Let’s go into the bedroom," Jill said.
This was the suggestion I had been waiting for since arriving.
"A good idea," I replied.
In the bedroom, Jill had a stick of incense burning, lavender, if I’m
not mistaken. I liked it that she had incense burning.
Truth is, there are a lot of things I like about Jill. Number one is
that she is pretty good at taking care of herself.
Her apartment was clean, modern, and tastefully furnished. She has
all the basic necessities, including an expensive stereo set, lacking
only a television.
I actually liked it that Jill does not own a TV,
although I know I’d have to have one, for football.
We kept kissing as we took turns doffing our clothes. Hers landed
on a chair beside the bed while mine wound up on the floor. Before
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embracing Jill to start the main event, I sent my eyes around the room,
taking it all in.
Not a bad place. Orderly. Fastidious. Probably a shade less artsy
or decorous than say, Megan or the other one might keep a household,
yet still resolutely feminine and nice.
Jill kept apologizing for "the way I acted before."
Answering that it didn’t matter anymore, I said, "Let’s just think
about now."
"Okay. Thank you."
That’s what we did. As soon as she was naked, I kissed Jill all over
her body, instantly encouraged when she began shivering pleasurably.
She fondled my cock while I kissed her, seeming fascinated by the
stiff, rearing beast.
"You’re the sweetest and smartest man I’ve ever known," Jill said.
"The sexiest, too."
"Thank you."
"Not to mention that you’re really good-looking and you’ve got this
really big, beautiful cock," she added.
"Aw shucks," I said, and she laughed.
A few minutes later, my beautiful cock was buried in Jill, sunk in
her all the way, our bodies enlaced in the good, old fashioned
missionary position. Her hands were locked behind the small of my
back, holding on as she met each of my thrusts with one of her own.
Jill’s vagina was exceptionally wet, and I plowed in and out with
the greatest of ease.
My senses swam, although I wasn’t past noticing her upraised
nipples as they pressed against my chest, the brown beads dark against
the white, soft, fullness of her breasts.
By far, Jill is the largest woman I have ever had sex with at five ten,
one hundred and fifty pounds. Not fat in the least, just tall and strong.
Big as Jill is, however, her pussy is still remarkably tight and likely
will remain so all of her life, having had a tubal ligation last year. She
has therefore forever closed off the chance of ever having a baby.
So be it.
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What can I say? It was a good fuck, because Jill is a good fuck,
whatever else I might say about her. Just as I was about to cum, I
kissed her, a kiss she returned with passion.
Breaking the kiss, Jill said she wanted to be mine in bed from now
on, eager to do whatever I wanted to do, no matter what. In any kinky
or sexy idea I happened to come up with, Jill would participate
willingly, she said.
"Patrick, I’ll fuck and suck you how, when, and as often as you
please. I’ll do whatever you want. Please just be with me and I’ll
always be your slave in bed!"
This emerged from Jill’s mouth in a long, excited burst as my cock
piled in and out of her.
I expect Jill had some idea of how much her talk aroused me. I am
also sure she was being sincere, because she repeated it several times
over the next two days, even when we weren’t doing it.
The first shot of cum that burst from the tip of my cock nearly took
my head off, on account of the electrifying spasm that accompanied it.
The rest of my climax wasn’t as intense, just nearly so. We made
quite a bit of noise, I’m afraid.
Doing it so enjoyably that first time broke the ice between us.
Afterwards, we drank wine and ate sandwiches and listened to music.
We smoked some of Jill’s excellent dope and laughed a lot, about
people and politics, mostly.
We talked very freely about what we had been up to since she
wrote me that letter terminating our relationship.
"I also want you to know that I realize now that you weren’t taking
any pleasure in telling me about Ann Kozlowski," Jill said, as she
poured me a third glass of white wine.
"I thought you would be better off hearing it from me than from
somebody else," I answered. "I never liked Jim, but I had nothing
against his poor wife."
"The woman Jim left Ann for is a real bitch, in my opinion," Jill
said. "One of those women who doesn’t care what happens to others,
as long as she gets what she wants."
"A common type," I agreed, pinching Jill on her bare rump.
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Jill gave me a perplexed look at first, until a smile slowly spread
across her face and she laughed.
What else?
On Saturday morning, we took a shower together. Although we
had just finished doing it again before getting out of bed, by the time
we were done with our hair, I had another stiffy.
I soaped Jill’s crotch and stood behind her under the warm spray,
reaching around to rub her clit and fondle her breasts. My cock
nestled in the divide of her butt cheeks, sliding up and down, lubed by
the soap. Again and again the head passed over the wrinkle of her
anus. At one point I let it rest at center, pushing it partway in.
"Oh Patrick, what are you doing?" Jill, asked, her voice thick with
passion.
"Nothing," I answered, pushing it in a bit more.
"Ooooohhh ... Ooooohhh..."
Jill did not resist, but I pulled it out all the same, making a mental
note to fuck her anally at some point. I wondered if some other guy
has fucked her there during the time we’ve been apart. I think the
answer is maybe yes.
Well, it doesn’t matter. In the course of the weekend, Jill was
incredibly passionate, had countless orgasms, and seemed really into
it. Following our shower on Saturday morning, we lounged around
her apartment, reading the paper and listening to a blues program on
KZEL.
For breakfast, we had scrambled eggs, (which I cooked) toast with
grape jam, and coffee.
Then we got stoned, taking big bong hits and began making out
again as soon as we were high. Things seemed just like they were two
years ago when we were seeing each other, except now we both have
changed.
Jill has gotten much better and I have gotten much worse.
Jill said that I should transfer to Eugene so we could move in
together. The Feds recently made the railroads open their cushy jobs
up to women and she nabbed one. Now she works fewer hours and
makes more money than I do. She says most of the good old boy
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railroaders are lazy overpaid jerks, which I can easily believe. I have
no illusions about men.
Jill told me she has never known a man even remotely like me.
Now she wishes she had never let me go, she said. She also
apologized for getting angry when I refused to go to the nudist camp
with her and said she no longer goes there herself anymore because of
all the creeps. She wants to make amends and wants me back in her
life.
While we were sitting on the sofa, Jill did something she has never
done before. I was right next to her while we were talking and
suddenly Jill dropped down on her knees between my legs and started
sucking my cock. Immediately I got hard as a rock and felt totally
t
urned on.
"Let it spurt in my mouth," she told me after a while. "I want to
drink your cum."
I happily agreed to her request, greatly enjoying the way Jill took it
down as I let go. I only mention it because it surprised me. Before
that moment, Jill had always refused to let me cum in her mouth. In
the old days, she was always more than happy to have me go down on
her but never reciprocated with anything more than a perfunctory
sucking.
I think Jill is saying something by letting me cum in her mouth.
Her previous reservations about me appear to have vanished for good.
On Saturday night we went to see a movie – Invasion of the Body
Snatchers, at the Springfield Mall. My idea. Jill hated it because it
was so scary and barely peeked out from under her coat once or twice.
Her hand, meanwhile, was on my lap, gently groping me from time
to time. I kept telling her that the movie reminded me of DemoRat
Party politics but she paid hardly any attention.
Nevertheless, I found the new version of Snatchers pretty
interesting. The special effects were good and the story follows the
1950s classic closely. However, it ended on a sour note and Leonard
Nimoy was totally wasted as the psychiatrist. At best, I’d give it a B
minus.
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Jill made a dish of lasagna for our late supper that tasted quite
delicious. She said it was a variation on the recipe I gave her back in
1976. More vegetables, and only a sprinkling of Italian sausage. We
bickered mildly about how the ingredients should be arranged in the
dish. She let me win for a change.
Then came Sunday morning. We made love again right after we
woke up – a rough, sweaty workout. Felt really good when we came
at exactly the same time. I noticed that we left behind a wet spot on
her sheet about the size of Rhode Island. Jill says she is going to let a
couple days go by before she changes the linen because she likes my
scent.
"I love sleeping with you, Patrick," she said.
What have I suddenly gotten myself into?
Jill says she wants to be my slave in bed. Anything I want her to do
from now on, she wants to do. As long as I have a big cock and stay