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Banned for Life

Nada.  And yet I knew I was unbelievably lucky she’d ever agreed to go out with me in the first place.  Even my own parents used to tell me that:  “You don’t know how lucky you are to have a girl like Megan.”  And I did know, absolutely.  But it was also torture. 

So there I was with Gail, and like I say, she looked just like Megan, and I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about fucking her, but I thought that about every woman.  And it’s not like I would ever have tried.  I mean she was Megan’s mom, for fuck’s sake.  But then she rearranged herself, as if in her sleep, inching a little closer.  And then she did it again, and this time she put her hand on my chest, stroking it almost like she would a pillow.  And I thought, ‘You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d swear she’s coming onto me!’  And she was breathing kind of hard—it was hot on my neck—and I was getting more and more excited but also more and more nervous.  I couldn’t see her eyes, I couldn’t anything but the top of her head, but I had the distinct impression she wasn’t asleep but was wide awake and hoping I’d make a move.  And I did not make one.  But, at the same time, I didn’t get up either.  I’m not sure why, except the whole situation was so awkward I wasn’t sure how to make a graceful exit. 

So okay:  her hand was on my chest, right?  And she was stroking me?  Well, gradually, she moved her hand down to my crotch and started rubbing my dick through my pants.  I kid you fucking not.  And I just sat there petrified but, meantime, I never lost my hard-on for a single second.  I couldn’t believe this was happening!  And then she looked up at me, eyes wide open, and she smiled a drunken smile, and she moved to kiss me, and at first I didn’t kiss her back, but she kept rubbing my dick, and her tits were were pressed right up against my side.  So then I did kiss her back, and our tongues rolled around, and I grabbed her tits, and she was all over my dick, trying to pull my zipper down, trying to pull it out, and finally she succeeded, and that was the deal closer, right there.  Before then, I was sure we’d stop at some point and say, “What the fuck are we doing?,” but, after that, I knew we never would.  I could barely think at all, and insofar as I could I thought, ‘We’ve gone this far, we might as well go all the way.’  And I could’ve fucked her right there on the sofa, but it was pretty cramped, and also it felt kind of weird with the Christmas tree there, so I tried to get up, and she tried to restrain me.  And I said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” and she let me up, and I pulled her up, and I threw her over my shoulder and walked her down the hall to her bedroom with my dick still hanging out, and I threw her down on the bed and fell on top of her.  And we dry-humped for a couple of minutes, and I said, “I want to fuck you so bad,” and she said, “I want you to fuck me.  I want your big, hard dick inside me.”  I swear to God, those were her exact words and, hearing them, I nearly shot my wad on the spot.  So we started tearing out of our clothes—and they came off fast, too, boy!—and then she spread so far apart it looked like she’d snap in two, and I popped my dick inside her and, man, her pussy felt like it was filled with hot syrup, and every time I thrust she’d scream to raise the dead while staring up at me with these wide, astonished eyes.  And that look, and her smell, and the way she looked like Megan—all of it sent me right over the edge so that I probably wasn’t in her a full thirty seconds before my whole body started convulsing.  And I said, “I’m going to come!” and she said, “Don’t come inside me!” and I pulled out just in time and, man, I am telling you the hole in my dick opened to size of a dime and cum was just flying out, and every time some of it splashed on Gail, she’d jerk in this really violent way and say, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!”  It felt like my whole body had become a giant dick—a dick having an epileptic seizure—and finally it stopped, and I collapsed on top of her.  But I was still as hard as a femur so, after a few seconds, I popped back inside her.  And I wasn’t a virgin, I’d fucked a couple of chicks I’d met at frat parties before I’d dated Megan, but I hadn’t lasted long with them either, so now that I had Gail I was going to ride her as long as she’d let me.  And we fucked a second time, even harder, and once again I came big.  And a third time:  ditto.  Every time I did it I could last a little longer so that, finally, on the fourth round, Gail said she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t,” she panted.  “You’ve worn me out.” 

But she wouldn’t leave me hanging.  No, she flipped around and sucked my dick while I ate her raw pussy, and when I came she licked up every up every last drop, going, “Mmmmmmm,” the whole time.  And I write all these details just so there’s not a single doubt she was a willing, eager participant every step of the way, and, also, because it still turns me on after all this time.  It was the purest fuck I ever had:  the most animal; the most apocalyptic. And when it was over, when she’d finished drinking all my sperm, she moved back up to the pillow and stroked my face and thanked me.  And, once again, she started to cry.  She didn’t explain and I didn’t ask, too afraid she’d mention Megan.  And she cried till, once again, it was like she’d passed out, and I got up and got dressed and drove home to face my parents, who were both awake and beside themselves with worry.  “We thought you were dead!  We called the rescue squad three times!”  So I said I’d gotten a flat tire, and the spare was flat, too, or some bullshit, and of course they weren’t buying it.  My dad even came over to smell my breath for drinking, but by then the beer had worn off.  But I still got grounded, anyway, and when I went to bed that night, I lay awake for a long time plotting ways to sneak back over and fuck Gail.
             
                          ******

Well, of course, I was dreaming.  There was no way it could’ve happened again.  She called a few days later and said, “We need to talk,” and sounding so serious from her first words I almost thought I’d puke.  And she asked what we’d done, and I said, “You don’t know?”  I mean how could she not remember?  So I led her through it as best I could, and she said, “Oh my God, we did that?” and started crying, of course, and said she was so sorry, she was such a bad mother, and poor Megan, and poor Jason, too.  And she said, “Please don’t tell Megan.  It would kill her.”  And I thought, ‘Yeah, right.  Like I’m going to go telling Megan!’  I mean Gail was the one I was worried about.  But we both promised we’d never say a word.  “It never happened,” she said.  So, fine, got that settled.

But then Megan got back from Kentucky, and you talk about wanting to puke!  She was so glad she’d gone now.  Her dad was so happy with his new fiancee, and Megan really liked her, they’d had gone shopping together, and blah-blah-blah.  Jesus Christ, why’d she have to be so goddamned sunny?  It made me fucking hate her!  Plus, if she’d just fucked me or blown me or something, this might never have happened.  I could barely even meet her eye.  And she asked me several times if something was wrong, and I kept telling her nothing. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” 

“Then why are you acting like this?” 

“Like what?  I’m just not in a great mood, okay? .I mean just because I don’t walk around smiling every hour of the day doesn’t mean something’s wrong.  I mean not everybody’s you.”

So then I felt even worse.  I should’ve broken up with her, except lashing out got her so upset I couldn’t see myself doing it.  Plus, what reason could I give?  We’d been getting along so well till then.  Also, by losing her, I would’ve been losing all the status that went with her.  That’s how it was in that goddamned town:  you were gold or shit, take your pick.  Which is how it still is.  And that’s one reason, you may have noticed, I never mention the name:  even the word makes me nauseous.  Plus, there’s some legal reasons why, but I’ll get to that later.

Anyway, I was too selfish to break up.  I’d just have to have to make it up to her.  And I did.  I became the nicest goddamned boyfriend you ever saw:  tender, generous, so perfectly attentive she should have been suspicious, but, somehow, she never was.  I guess I was so perfect she didn’t want to rock the boat.  I bought her things, expensive things, and got a part-time job bussing tables at a steakhouse so I could afford them.  When spring got close, I made a big point of not playing baseball so we could spend more time together.  (I’d lettered as a pitcher in my sophomore and junior years.)  Plus, I stopped bugging her for sex, but that’s because I’d lost interest in sex, or at least sex with her.  Not that I wasn’t horny.  I was!  I still wanted to fuck every last woman I saw, even ugly women, even and especially Gail, but with Megan I felt so guilty I could barely get a hard-on.  And the more I backed off, the more she started bugging me for sex.  Can you believe that shit?  For almost two years she’d freak if I did the slightest thing, and suddenly she was mine for the asking.  And I kept saying, “Look, are you sure about this?  It’s an awfully big step, you know.”  And, with no pause at all, she’d say, “I’m sure.” 

So, finally, I was forced to do it.  I fucked the pussy that came out of the best pussy I’d ever fucked.  This happened at the Ramada Inn, a local hot spot for devirginizing, and let’s just say it was pretty weird, especially the blow-job.  Gail was a champ at sucking dick.  With Megan, all I felt were teeth.  So I made a few suggestions, and then I realized they were all coming straight from the old lady and shut my mouth and let her munch away.  Fortunately, the next day she was full of paranoia, afraid she seemed like a slut, and I let her think she might be to get her off my back.  But there were other little problems I was always facing, such as how to act around Gail.  We barely spoke when I called the house.  I’d make up excuses not to come over, and when I did come over, I wouldn’t go inside but just beep the horn in the driveway.  And then, sometimes, I had to go inside, and Gail would shoot me these fleeting looks, some wistful, some with a touch of a lust, and fuck only knows how I looked at her.  I was constantly afraid Megan would piece it all together.  Maybe Gail would get drunk one night and spill her guts.  Maybe she’d tell some friend of hers who’d spring the news on Megan.  For myself, I kept it quiet for the longest time.  Which was killing me, actually.  I wanted to say something to somebody to get it off my chest. 

Well, one night that March, I was smoking pot with Mark Powell in his parents’ basement, and he told me that a few nights before he’d fucked the school slut—the shameless Tammy Ducey—in the high-jump pit.  Everybody fucked Tammy Ducey.  I could’ve fucked her myself if I hadn’t been seeing Megan.

Posted at 2pm on 10/15/2005 | comments are closed Filed Under: Fiction

"The sleep of reason
brings forth monsters."






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