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Friday afternoon.
She looked so beautiful when she arrived. The moment I opened
the door, I could feel my heart start thumping in my chest. We were
in bed minutes after the door closed.
Besides being beautiful and intelligent, Megan is an absolute
delight physically, eager to help me explore my many sexual twists
and kinks, including some perversions I’ve never confessed to anyone
else before.
The problem has been, up to now, is that I’ve never felt
comfortable enough with anyone else to really get deeply involved in
the weird stuff I’d like to try. With Megan I sense a willing
accomplice who appears more than ready to explore peculiar practices
as much or even more than I do.
The simple truth is that being in love with Megan seems to have
cast aside all my inhibitions and being in love with me has cast aside
all of hers as well.
From the simple to the more complex, we have been relating to
each other in ways that I never thought a woman would ever take me
up on.
For example, after we’d made love in a passionate but fairly
ordinary fashion when she arrived on Friday, Megan and I played
dress up here in the apartment. There is this huge full length mirror in
the main room, which faces the vanity mirror on the opposite wall.
We can look at ourselves in both mirrors and likewise take pictures.
Once, after we had smoked some dope, Megan had me put on her
bra and panties, and she wore my briefs. The pictures we took that
night are really wild.
Viewed from behind, except for the hair on my legs, you wouldn’t
know which one of us is the girl.
With mine and Megan’s 35MM SLR cameras with the self timer,
there is no pose we cannot photograph. And, although Megan is
skittish about taking super-explicit pictures, she has no qualms about
ordinary nudity or the two of us wearing racy costumes.
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Megan let me take this whole black and white series while she
bathed in the claw foot tub in the bathroom. Even though we use
mailers to have our pictures developed anonymously in Minnesota,
Megan prefers to be careful about what we shoot. I sure wish there
was some form of photography better than a Polaroid that solves the
problem of development and give you instant results. Unfortunately,
unless you want to spend years figuring out that whole darkroom
business, you are stuck with only mildly explicit poses.
I know if we had the ability to shoot our own pictures without some
third party being involved, Megan would be happy to let me take
some really exotic shots, pictures we could look at in our declining
years, remember, and say: Ooooohhh. Yeah.
The thing is, I can’t take enough pictures of Megan, she is so
gorgeous. My own perfect blond Barbie doll, except that she has a
mind and personality to belie the looks. Not to mention that she is as
sexy as hell, sleek and slender, my true love.
Last month while we visited Ashland to see the Shakespeare play A
Midsummer Night’s Dream, we stopped at McCarley’s Books. It is
on Main Street, between First and Second.
Thousands of paperbacks and hardcover books, many of them
rather unusual. I just had to spring for this one, Tantric Sex
Techniques. A whole set of drawings of couples in various sex
positions were accompanied by a very well written text.
The most interesting were the ones showing Tantric oral sex,
especially the Tantric 69 position. I showed it to Megan and she said
I should buy it, which I did.
Since, then, we’ve been experimenting with Tantric 69ing, a
practice both Megan and I find endlessly amusing. When we do it, we
try to follow the instructions as exactly as possible:
The couple must lie prone, side-by-side, each facing the other’s
genitals, heads resting on pillows for comfort. To do it properly, the
couple in question must be fit and slender.
Using both hands, the woman guides the man’s penis into her
mouth, and gives it a brief sucking, to ensure that the man is at
maximum erection. When this is achieved, she encloses the head of
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his penis loosely between her lips. She is not to move anything except
her tongue, which may continue to caress the head from within.
The man responds by placing his mouth at the entrance of the
woman’s vagina, his nose touching her clitoris, his tongue inside her
opening. He too, should not move his head or mouth, although his
tongue may continue to caress her from within.
The main purpose, the book explains, is to remain in this position
as long as possible without movement other than the tongue caresses.
As the minutes stretch, the couple is supposed to fuse in spirit, each
one becoming the other, experiencing a form of nirvana.
There were testimonials from couples who had tried Tantric 69ing,
with one woman saying:
"Being together like that makes for such an intimate moment,
which you relish even more by becoming one. The next thing you
know, it’s like a thunderbolt."
She’s right, too.
The first time we tried Tantric 69ing, however, we had a minor
"accident."
Megan had my cock in her mouth just like the description says,
using her tongue to tickle the head. My face was lodged in her pussy
at the same time. As the minutes wore on, we became progressively
more excited.
I suddenly realized that I was about to cum. I pulled out of
Megan’s mouth in an attempt to hold off but did so too late.
Before Megan could get the head back in her mouth, I spurted two
or three shots of cum across her cheeks, on her nose, in her hair. She
tried to get me back in her mouth as usual but she was laughing too
hard.
"You spurted all over my face," she said.
"I’m sorry. It kind of got away from me."
We sat up and some dribbled down Megan’s nose.
"Open your mouth," I told her.
Megan opened wide and stuck out her tongue. I wiped the drips
from the tip of her nose and placed them on her tongue like a
communion wafer. Closing her eyes, Megan swallowed.
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When she opened her eyes again, it was with a heavy-lidded, come-
hither look of pure passion.
"Now your turn to swallow," she said.
I stuck out my tongue but kept my eyes open, accepting a string of
cum Megan pulled from her hair, again like a communion wafer. I
swallowed it and we laughed and laughed.
Is she ever wonderful.
When we go out for drinks and dinner, she dresses in these
exceptionally attractive outfits. My personal favorite is this form-
fitting black top she wears with a floral print skirt that features a
scarlet-purple and black pattern. She is just riveting to look at in it,
what with her contrasting golden-blond hair.
She looks like a fucking model.
Fuck. She is a fucking model. But more than that, she’s smart and
has that rarest of feminine qualities, good sense.
The truth is, I’m cockeyed in love
with her, and, from the moment I
first put my penis in her last September 8th, I have been in love with
her, despite my outbursts to the contrary during several uncertain
times.
The other guy, her husband. What a fucking dolt. He never had a
clue about what he had. Not enough imagination, I guess, a quality I
possess in abundance.
Megan confessed to me that he would never eat her pussy, and was
kind of lukewarm about sex anyhow. I have no regrets about stealing
her away from him.
She is the love of my life.
We are two slender, slinky blond kit-kats, making love every
chance we get. No part of her body (and I mean that literally) have I
left unexplored with fingers, cock, or tongue.
I am the Magellan, the Captain Cook, the intrepid explorer of
Megan’s body. Everything about her I love, desire, and literally
adore. We need no one else. The world is simply a backdrop to our
love. The restaurants, dance clubs, museums, parks, stores, and
theaters we haunt exist in the temporal world solely for us.
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The city of Portland is our playground, something occupy us when
we are not making love. Nothing exists save to reflect ourselves in
the world.
Although Tantric 69ing and various other exotic sex positions
supply us with gourmet delights, Megan’s favorite sex position, by
far, is the one we usually indulge in before we go to sleep. It consists
of us lying on our sides, me behind Megan, my cock way up inside
her. My right arm slips underneath, in the hollow of her waist, my
finger on her button.
My left hand is free to play with her nipples. It’s a fairly
comfortable position too, because she weighs hardly anything.
We can go a really long time if we want to, Megan having what
seems like a million orgasms, but is probably one long continuous
climax, with a few breathers in between.
And I know at the same time that this wouldn’t be anywhere near as
fun for me if I didn’t love this woman with all my heart. Megan is a
gift for which I am eternally thankful.
Ever since we agreed to begin living together as soon as practically
possible, I’ve also been going down on Megan every chance I get.
She spreads her legs and opens herself to my tongue like a little
flower.
Then tenderly, patiently, I attend her, tongue and lips ever busy at
her cute little nest. As soon as we start living together, I intend to go
down on Megan at least every day, and probably twice on Sundays,
when we are more relaxed and have leisure time. There is no man
more thrilled than yours truly to kiss, lap, lick, and suck a woman’s
sweet pussy as I am Megan’s. I love applying my tongue to her soft
lips.
Along with our experiments in Tantric oral sex, we’ve moved into
more familiar but no less pleasurable territory. When we 69, I also
like to have Megan on top, so she can comfortably sit on my face
while I recline with my tongue way up inside her.
This morning, Megan checked around for her diaphragm and
discovered she had forgotten to put it in last night. I know we did it
once before we slept and again first thing this morning. It may be that
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we also did it around 3:00 AM. (I’m not sure but it would be in
keeping with our habits.)
But never mind. Megan was surprised when I expressed no
concern about her becoming pregnant. I told her if it happens it
happens and that I am prepared in any case. I told her that I hoped
that she would want to have our baby.
We can get married as soon as her divorce clears the court or
whenever she thinks proper. I told her that I am at her disposal in all
circumstances and that I love her unconditionally.
She said that is exactly what she wanted to hear because having a
baby is what she wants to do. I said that since we are both nearing
thirty, now is probably as good a time as any to have one. If she gets
pregnant we will marry and go forward.
I see no other way.
* * * *
November 16, 1979 Friday
Well, I should be pushing paper but I just saw Christina Villines at
Maryhill Commons during lunch.
Quite the blast from the past. Christina was Leanne’s best friend in
high school, along with Shellie Schrafton.
Christina was supposed to be my date for that fateful January 17,
1970 Grateful Dead concert. Instead, I ended up with Leanne when
the after concert moment came.
Get this: Christina’s a VISTA supervisor in Ashland now, here with
her charges at an official training. We talked for nearly an hour,
catching up on various things. I was completely taken aback at first
and didn’t know what to say when I first saw her. But I recognized
her immediately. She recognized me right away, too. I think she was
almost as surprised as I was.
I must say Christina looks great, slender and lovely. She has two
kids now and a worthless former husband down in Florida. An
alcoholic, she says. She divorced him.
Christina was extremely friendly and teased me some, telling me
that I was prettier than ever. I’d forgotten how tall she is at nearly six
feet, just a couple inches shorter than I am. We talked about Leanne’s
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wedding, which Christina did not attend. She knew all about it,
though, and has the same low opinion of Ricky Fairlane that
everybody else has. In a word, a prick.
After I got back from lunch, I thought for a long time about what
happened on that night so long ago. My memory of it is still razor
sharp. What happened was that Christina was originally supposed to
be my date for the concert because Leanne was going to meet Rodney
James Goldbond there.
But that little jerk Rodney never showed up. So when Christina
went to get drinks for us, Leanne moved in on me.
Though not as attractive, Leanne was much more aggressive than
Christina and I just sort of fell into her lap.
Too bad I didn’t hang with her instead of switching to Leanne that
night. My fickle nature really blew me up but good.
* * * *
November 18, 1979
Geez. One wedding after another this season. This time it is Lloyd
Schenzler tying the knot with Jean. I took Megan as my official date
because the wedding invitation was for two guests, not one. Very
thoughtful of The Schenz and his bride, seeing as how they know I am
serious about Megan.
The wedding was at this teeny tiny little church under the Sellwood
Bridge in Portland. At the reception, we danced, drank champagne,
and ate the delicious spread that was set out for the guests. Megan
wore this dark, wine-colored dress and matching jacket that looked
very chic. I wore my new tan sport coat, dark slacks, blue shirt, and
fashionably wide yellow-blue tie.
The bride wore a high-necked floor length white gown with long
sleeves and a lace veil. She carried a bouquet of violets, baby’s breath
and gardenias. Yes, I’m quoting directly from the newspaper
<
br /> announcement. No doubt about it – Jean was exceptionally radiant
and looked very beautiful.
The groom also looked sharp in his silver-gray tux, white shirt,
black bow tie and slate-gray cummerbund. I don’t know that I’ve
ever seen The Schenz look quite so dashing.
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Lloyd’s mom and dad were both there, along with a lot of his old
high school friends. Chesley attended as well but Nurse Shirley
pointedly did not appear.
Say what you will about Lloyd’s past misdeeds, stunts, deceptions,
and shenanigans. In the really important things he has always been a
solid citizen. And in Jean, Lloyd knows a good thing when he sees it.
She is very beautiful, sweet, smart, funny, and truly seems to love
him. That girl is a gem and he’s a lucky guy.
I also did not fail to notice that Jean and Megan hit it off quite well.
No doubt they compared notes on the two idiots they have stuck
themselves with. Uh huh.
* * * *
November 24, 1979
Megan will be moving up to Portland early in December. We
talked about housekeeping and how it should be arranged. Unlike
most domestic issues, I had actually given this one some thought
beforehand. I told her I am good about picking up after myself but
will generally ignore the more basic vacuuming, dusting, and
decorating chores. Also I said that I hate to do laundry and would
appreciate it if she undertook that task.
On the other hand, I promised to do most of the cooking and all of
the cleaning up afterwards. Yes, all of it. Megan seemed a little
surprised when I told her I would do all of the dishes. Uh huh. Every
fucking one of them, from glass casserole pans with caked-on
potatoes au gratin to the tiniest shrimp fork.
I promised I will do them three meals per day, seven days per week,
month after month, 365 days per year. Ad infinitum.
The thing is, I can work out a lot of word problems when I am
doing a mindless chore like the dishes. While I wash, my mind can
free associate. So doing the dishes allows me to accomplish two
things at once. As long as you are with me, I said, you will never
have to do another dish. I made a solemn pledge.
In addition, I promised to look after the vehicles and deal with auto