American Backroads

Wonders of My World

US Highways

Suddenly cut loose from life as he’d known it, Aroslav strikes out aimlessly across the country, towing a small travel trailer behind his pickup truck. All he knows for certain is that he hates freeways. Freeways are for people who have a destination. For Ari, it is not about the destination, but about the journey.

Only a few weeks away from his one-time home in Seattle, he stops to have his truck washed by a team of bouncing cheerleaders fundraising for their team. Honestly, he only stopped because the truck was dirty, not because his mind was. Much to his surprise—and pleasure—he meets the young woman who will become his friend, lover, and muse as he remembers the journey of his life.

Pretending to be a travel memoir, U.S. Highways jumps from sexual escapade to impossible love affair as Aroslav makes his first circuit around the country, ultimately fulfilling a lifelong fantasy of following U.S. Highway 20 from coast to coast. And, if you believe him, fulfilling a number of other lifelong fantasies along the way! Who wouldn’t want a cute submissive blonde bikini model running around naked in his life? Unless sex was off limits. Sigh.

American Backroads

After eighteen months on the road, Aroslav continues his journey, noting that he missed a few states on his first time around. His muse, Alice, decides to invite herself along and spice up the journey a bit. Meeting old friends and relatives keeps Ari moving, but remembering adventures from his youth sometimes holds him transfixed, unable to separate one reality from the other.

One of the most productive writing times in Ari’s career, many of his characters trigger memories of the real people and events that inspired them. Whether they are all completely true or are just the way Ari wants to remember them is open for debate. After all, this is the memoir of the avatar of the pseudonym of the alter ego of the author. Believe what you dare!

Based on the true story of Aroslav’s erotic journey around America as told to Devon Layne.

Border Crossings

Aroslav was in Hawaii for the winter when he realized he was halfway to Japan. That inspired him to keep going, traveling through sixteen foreign countries as he worked his way around the world. And as he worked his way through half a dozen beautiful women. Now fully illustrated with photos from his journey (and a few filled in by others), Aroslav touches down in Japan, Thailand, Greece, Romania, Czech Republic, Germany, and Iceland—each with its own adventurous woman to expand his horizons.

Pretending to be a travel diary, this over-the-top adventure story is the memoir of the avatar of the pseudonym of the alter ego of the author. You can only believe what you dare to believe. The story of his journey is interwoven with fond memories from a past he might have lived.

Based on the true story of Aroslav’s erotic journey around the world as told to Devon Layne.

Short Stories

“Good Vibrations.” This short story in In a Few Words could be a chapter in another volume of Wonders of My World, Based on the true story of Aroslav’s erotic journey around the world as told to Devon Layne.

Aroslav finds himself caught up in the world of porn as a peripheral contributor. But he gets deeper as he meets a stripper who wants to show him the ropes. She happens to love books!

“Whatever NOLA WANTS.” This short story in In a Few Words could be a chapter in another volume of Wonders of My World, Based on the true story of Aroslav’s erotic journey around the world as told to Devon Layne.

Aroslav continues to explore the world of porn as a peripheral contributor at the convention of the adult entertainment industry. Can an invitation to visit New Orleans be what it appears to be?

Copyright ©2018 2021 by Elder Road LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be submitted via e-mail to ElderRoadBooks@outlook.com.

Cover photo by Andrew Mayovskyy ID 72471895, licensed from Shutterstock.com

Interior photos from private collection and from Shutterstock.com

Second eBook Edition

ISBN 978-1-939275-63-9

1
Making Plans

This is part two of Wonders of My World. I wrote about my first eighteen months on the road in U.S. Highways. I’m still on the road and now I’ve completed this part of the journey, American Backroads. The road goes ever on.

So, I’ll get on with the adventure as soon as I make the usual disclaimers. Here are the further adventures of Aroslav, the avatar of the pseudonym of the alter ego of an author. Parse that. There’s a lot of story and sightseeing—almost a travelogue in places—and a fair amount of sex. That, after all, was the story Alice wanted to hear. At the beginning of this story, I’d already made one full circuit around the U.S., staying off interstates as much as possible. I was trying to fill a map on the back of the trailer with the states I’d visited. Had a few more to go.

When I started writing about my road trip, my memory was flooded with the wonderful women I’ve known and loved in my life. I get sidetracked a lot and those memories from long ago become as important to me as the story I’m writing in the now. Bear with me. It’s my life. Based on the true story of my travels, only the names, places, and events have been changed to protect me—I mean the innocent—and to keep several wonderful women from hunting me down to call me a liar.

If you think you recognize yourself at some point in this story and want to scream, “I didn’t do that!” don’t. It isn’t you. I’ve freely combined aspects of lots of different people into single characters to simplify things. Many of the activities are lifted from still other characters, but seem to fit in the story or with the composite that I made up where they appear. No one is really who they appear to be, so don’t insult yourself by assuming I’m telling lies about you. These are adventures I’ve had. Which women I had them with is still concealed.

The problem is that I’ve fallen in love with each of them.

These are the stories of my life.

5 December 2014

“You’ll kill this old man, Alice.”

“Aw, Ari. I’ve lain with my head on your heart listening to it beat. I know how strong it is. Can I come?”

“I hope so. Several times,” I laughed. “Honey, I would love to have you visit me. It would be easiest for you to fly into Phoenix. Do you have any idea when you can get here?”

“Well… um… Now that I’ve gotten you to agree… I’ve got almost a month off. I could, sort of, be there for Solstice if you’d like. I mean, unless you’ve got someone else handy to finish your ritual with. Could we?”

“You’d better believe we could. Let me see if I can get a condo in Scottsdale that week. We could spend a week in luxury before we go rough it in Quartzsite.”

“Yes! Someplace with a hot tub and a pool and… Oh, Ari! I’m so excited!” she said. I could hear the longing in her voice. I knew it was reflected in my own voice.

“Are you moist-excited, wet-excited, or dripping-excited?” I asked.

“You’re going to have to get your face down there and find out for yourself, baby. I think you’re going to like what you find.”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Have you told Cassie that the campground there is nude?” Alice asked after we’d gone through another round of smoochie noises.

“Um… I suppose I should do that. They plan to start the trek after they celebrate Christmas with her kids. Do you think she’ll mind?” I asked. I fully expected her to decide to camp in a completely different part of the BLM and never set foot inside the Magic Circle. I wouldn’t be surprised if they booked a slot in one of the full hook-up sites in town. Alice and I would join them at their campsite, fully clothed.

“I have to go to class, lover. I’ll send you my flight details. You know, I could never live with you full time, Ari. How’s a stripper supposed to make a living in a nudist park? Put clothes on?”

We disconnected and I sat at the coffee shop in Tucson thinking about the call I needed to make to Cassie and Andy. I’d been putting it off, but I needed to let them know. It was only fair.

A Long Time Ago: Voyeur

That one time. There’s always that one time.

We were in junior high. We’d all been sent to church camp for a week. Everybody in the neighborhood. I wondered what the parents did while the kids were sent away. Most of us would be in seventh grade in the fall. Of course, we were mixed with kids from fifty or a hundred different churches and then segregated into cabins by sex. Twelve campers and two counselors per cabin and no matter what you might have heard about camps, no one got out of their cabin after lights out without an adult escort.

The church was in charge of our innocence.

Good luck with that.

A hallmark of puberty is curiosity. It’s not like we boys wanted to go fuck all the girls in camp. Most of us only had a vague notion of what fucking was and the word was so secretive that no one said it out loud. But we were a perverted lot when it came to trying to catch a glimpse of the girls. Or their underwear. One boy was reprimanded for taking pictures of the girls’ swimsuits hanging on the line to dry. One of the suits was carelessly turned inside out, so we could see the padded cups and lined crotch of the one-piece suit. I think guys beat off to that image later that night.

There was a rumor that Sally had been caught trying to peek into the boys’ restroom, so it wasn’t just the boys that were curious.

Our activities outside the cabins were coed and the small groups were made of half boys and half girls. We hiked together, ate our meals together, and did crafts. We all braided lanyards and learned to burn our names into a slice of wood with a magnifying glass. I was one of the first to learn four-stranded square braiding and had a day of popularity helping the girls who wanted to learn. Then there were the usual activities like canoeing, archery, lawn darts (yes, they were still legal back then), swimming.

I think that, in addition to all of us trying to get a glimpse of the developing bodies of our counterparts, there was a little bit of exhibitionism going on, as well. It was almost as exciting to think of a girl getting a look at your dangler as it was to think of seeing her boobs. Cabin doors were sometimes left slightly ajar—or even wide open—while we changed to swimsuits.

And that’s how it happened that I was accidentally passing the girls’ cabin on the way to the pool, which was the other direction, after racing to get into my own trunks. Wouldn’t you know, I’d get caught.

By Cassie.

We hadn’t been close since second grade, though we saw each other often enough in the neighborhood, at school, and at church. She was my next-door neighbor and got on the bus a stop before mine. I don’t know why, but it always seemed like I was sitting three seats behind her on the bus. I mean, like that was always the next seat available when I got on the bus.

But she was never mean. Not like some of her friends. One girl brought a copy of Mad Magazine to school and pointed at the picture of Alfred E. Neuman on the cover. “Look! Aroslav is in a magazine!” she’d called out to her friends. I really hated that bitch. Especially after she turned me down for a date as a freshman.

Nonetheless, I was ‘passing’ the girls’ cabin and there was Cassie. I just missed seeing her little boobs as she pulled her swimsuit up and she lifted her eyes and looked straight into mine. I was done for. I was sure she’d scream and I’d get hauled before a judge and sent home where my parents would gleefully hang me from the willow tree in the back yard. Shit!

She didn’t scream. I saw her mouth the word ‘naughty’ and then turn away. Her suit wasn’t all the way up and she did quite a job of wiggling her butt to get it up, but I didn’t expect her to call out, “Hey, Sally. Do you think my suit is getting too small?”

Sally turned toward Cassie and I saw a full frontal view of her awesome tits as she pulled her suit up. Sally was focused on Cassie and not on me so after burning that image into my mind I hustled myself away from the cabin and over to the pool. I had my towel held in front of me to keep from showing my stiffy and as soon as the lifeguard blew the whistle I threw it aside and dove into the cold water.

I wasn’t going to get out of the pool, no matter how cold it was. Every time I looked at a girl, I saw Sally’s headlights staring back at me. I felt a brush along my shoulder and turned to see Cassie floating past me on her back.

When a girl floats on her back… Yeah. Her boobs are right up there out of the water. Right where I could sort of stare at them.

“Pervert,” she whispered to me. She splashed me and grinned before swimming away. She never mentioned it again.

Back to Cassie

I’d put things off as long as I dared. Cassie had given me her phone number at the reunion, but I’d never used it. So far, all our communication had been through messages. But it was the second week of December and I’d left my site in Coronado National Forest to go to Tucson for supplies. I had a cell connection, so there was really no excuse.

“Cassie, it’s Ari. Aroslav.”

“Ari? What are you doing calling me? My husband might have been home!”

“Um… Cassie, he knows I’m going to be at Quartzsite, doesn’t he?”

“Quartzsite? Oh. Yeah, of course. Is that what this is about?” She sounded relieved. “We’re leaving the day after Christmas.”

“It’s not fair for me not to tell you about the site where I plan to camp in case you want to choose a different location,” I said.

“What is it? On the edge of a cliff?”

“Uh… no. The Magic Circle is seventy acres that are reserved as clothing optional.”

“You mean… naked?”

“Well, yeah. It’s not a requirement, but most of the people in that area are nudists.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “There are other areas nearby that aren’t nude. I mean the BLM land there is thousands of acres and you can camp almost everywhere.” Nothing. “Cassie, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to deceive you.”

“Yeah. Damn. Excuse me. You’re a nudist. Oh, wow.” She was quiet again.

“Cassie?”

“I’m just trying to get my head around the concept. Give me a minute. Don’t say anything!” she shouted. I waited. I know time is relative, but it sure seemed like more than a minute. “You know what this means, don’t you?” she whispered when she returned to the phone.

“I’m hoping the worst is that you’ll camp in a different part of the grounds and we’ll still get together to swap stories and have a mojito or two,” I said.

“Are you kidding? Andy would kill me if he had the opportunity to see a couple hundred beautiful naked women and I took him someplace else.”

“Well, most of them are our age or older, Cassie. Don’t get his hopes up too much.”

“It’s not his hopes I’m concerned about.”

“Okay. Then what’s it mean?”

“It means that finally, after waiting decades, you are going to see my naked breasts,” she whimpered. “Damn it, Ari! I wish I’d shown you in junior high instead of getting Sally to flash you. My boobs were worth looking at then. I’m all saggy now,” she sounded distressed.

“We’re all a little saggy now, Cass. People don’t go there to look at other people’s privates. There’s no judgment. No body-shame allowed.”

“Andy will be trying to find the most beautiful pair in the campground.”

“He won’t have to look far,” I said. I took a deep breath. “They’ll be attached to the woman sitting on my lap.”

“Ari, you can look at my breasts and… everything else, I suppose, but I’m not going to sit in your lap. I don’t think. I wonder if I could convince Andy… Hmm.” Cassie had completely misunderstood me. It seemed so natural for her to simply assume she’d have the best looking boobs in the camp. I chuckled and contemplated letting her keep her ideas. It’s not like I’d object to having naked Cassie Clinton sitting on my lap for a while. Even at our age. I sighed.

“Alice is a good sport, but I don’t think she’ll share my lap with you,” I said.

“Ari! You have a girlfriend?” Cassie shrieked. “Who is she? Tell me all about her. Was she in our class? Your class at Tippecanoe Valley? A college friend? Come on! Spill it, boyfriend.” I held the phone away from my ear and looked at it. Boyfriend?

“She’s actually… a little younger. You’ll like her though. She’s really sweet.”

“A little younger? Ari, how much younger?”

“Um… a lot younger,” I hedged.

“Ari, you’re not paying a hooker to go camping with you, are you? I’m so disappointed,” Cassie said.

“Cassie! It’s not like that at all. Alice really is my friend. And when we get together, we’re lovers. She is not a hooker. In fact, she’s even paying her own way down here.”

“From where?”

“Montana.”

“Wow. I mean… wow. Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“What could I expect? Old men like me don’t have pretty young women sleeping with them unless they get paid to,” I said a little angrily.

“I’m sorry, Ari. Really.” We both took a minute to calm down. “It is sort of cliché, isn’t it?” she giggled. “Have you been together long?”

“We’ve only spent a week together before this. Last summer. She’ll be with me for three weeks down here and I know I’m going to miss her like crazy when she’s gone back home.”

“You have an interesting life, Ari.”

“You’re not mad at me, are you, Cassie?”

“Hmph. No. You could have given me more notice so I could have lost fifty pounds and gotten an all-over tan. Ari, just tell me you won’t be disgusted when you see me.”

“Cassie, even when I held you in my arms at the reunion, what I saw there—what I felt there—was the fifteen-year-old I last saw freshman year. You can’t disgust me.”

A Long Time Ago: Tripping the Light Fantastic

During my PhD work, I realized the truth of what Paula had told me when we divorced. I wasn’t going to earn a living as a playwright and probably not as a novelist. I was burnt out in theater. But I still had to pay the rent while I slogged through writing my dissertation. And there was one skill I had that I could fall back on.

I could type.

I’d mastered the skill on an old Royal as a junior in high school. We only had one electric typewriter in our class—poor school. I got to use it a couple of times, but always seemed to jam the keys. When I sat at my first IBM Selectric, the limits came off my speed. I’d tested at 110 words per minute. Error free. I was a writer. Typing was a tool of the trade.

I went to a temp agency. They did not comprehend. They sent me out to the world’s worst job.

We compare worst jobs when we’re out drinking with new friends. It’s just a bar game while we’re getting to know each other. I win.

I slashed tires.

I’d been sent to a tire distribution center. It wasn’t a tire store, but more like a huge warehouse where they sent tires out to all the service centers and received new tires by the truckload. They also received old tires from dealers. Most of them were damaged or warranty exchanges that were destined for a landfill somewhere. There was talk about other things that could be made from old tires and I’d seen a playground that had the surface covered with recycled rubber from old tires. But before they could leave the distribution center, the company had to be sure that they couldn’t be scavenged, sold again, or returned on a warranty claim.

Hence, my job. I was handed a pair of bolt cutters and pointed to floor-to-ceiling palettes of dirty used tires. My job was to cut the bead where the tires joined the rim and toss the old tires into a semi trailer. It was dirty—no, filthy—back-breaking work. I was exhausted at the end of the day. I went to my empty apartment and sank gratefully into a tub of hot water with a glass of scotch in my hand. After the bath, I spent an hour scrubbing the filth out of the tub. I ruined four handkerchiefs by blowing my nose.

Day two on the job was no better. I found I had tears running down my cheeks each time I lifted and threw a tire into the truck. My shoulders ached from operating the bolt cutters, not just on auto tires, but truck and tractor tires as well. At noon, I dragged myself to the supervisor’s office. I was devastated. I was going to do something I’d never done before. He waved me in and I sank into a chair across his desk.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this. I have to quit.” I said. “I can’t take this work any longer. I’m sorry. I just can’t go on this afternoon.” The supervisor looked severely at me and his lips twitched. He started with a chuckle and then hit an all-out belly laugh. I didn’t get it. He wiped a tear away from his eyes.

“You’re something else,” he said. “Everybody in the warehouse lost their bets when you showed up for work this morning. We’ve never had one come back!”

Fuck!

I returned to the temp agency the next day and begged for an office job. Type? You can type? The consultant had a hard time believing me, but as soon as she tested me she had a job to send me to.

And that’s how I ended up at the huge real estate and building franchise company. After a week on the job catching up on all their backlog of word processing, they bought out my contract with the temp agency and I was hired to manage the word processing department. I was taken to the break room after work on Friday and was officially welcomed to the company at the private bar with a glass of premium scotch.

I was going to like working in the real estate industry.

And I was going to like Cynthia.

She was an admin for the VP of sales, so she wasn’t in my direct line of management. I’m not sure it would have made a difference. Our office was one of those that ten years later would have been sued for sexual harassment, discrimination, and god-knows what else if the franchise industry had held together that long. We were pretty loose and it was very male-dominated. My hire as a manager of all the female word processing operators was considered typical, even if I was resented a little for taking the only possible management position that a woman might have had a chance at.

Hanging around the open bar on Friday nights was often a prelude to various couples—often with one or both married to someone else—taking off for parts unknown together. When she found out I was single, Cynthia made it her mission in life to end that condition for me. Only not to her.

“Ari, you know Linda, right?” Cynthia said. “Could you give her a lift home tonight? Why don’t you stop and have dinner first?” Linda and I looked at each other, nodded and left. Linda wasn’t looking for a husband. She was looking to get laid. I was happy to oblige. The next week, Cynthia was back with another secretary.

“Ari, I know you love James Bond movies and there’s a new one opening this weekend. Did you know Kathy is a fan, too? Why don’t the two of you catch it tonight?” Cynthia said, shoving us out the door together. Kathy was a fan of trying to mimic the dances that the Bond girl did in the opening credits. She was pretty damned good at it. It was nice to see those dances with the actual naked girl in front of you instead of just the silhouette.

Of course, not all the dates worked out. Some of the women weren’t as enthused about Cynthia’s meddling as others. Some of us didn’t get along. Some just outright refused to participate in her games. But over the course of six months, Cynthia had arranged for me to fuck six different women. Not all of them were employees.

One night, we’d been sitting around drinking in the private bar and a few of us stayed a little longer than usual. It had been a stressful week. One of the guys suggested we just all go over to the Ramada across the street and have dinner. Greg, our boss, agreed to treat the eight of us and we gladly joined in. Greg was an odd guy who was smart enough to found and manage a small franchise empire, but tried to talk like a New Jersey thug. I captured his voice in a story I wrote a few years later. Intentional bad grammar to establish himself as a common man made good.

The Ramada had a decent restaurant, but they also had a great bar. That night, they had a good DJ who could really keep the music flowing. So, after dinner, we danced. And danced.

Having spent the past eight years around theater people, I’d learned how to dance. I’ve gotten rusty at it now, but back then I could waltz. I could swing. I could two-step. And sometimes I’d just freestyle. Getting on a dance floor with someone who could follow nuances and was just tipsy enough to let loose was a real pleasure. Someone like Cynthia. We got moving in a combo swing and disco dance that started to shake things up. In fact, the dance floor cleared. We were too caught up in what we were doing to even notice until coins started hitting the floor around us. I grabbed her hand, spun her around and dropped into a dip from which I gave her a very sound kiss. I don’t know if she was more surprised by the kiss or by the applause.

We got off the dance floor and made our way to the table we’d been at only to find the rest of our group had long gone. Drinks arrived at the table and I looked at the waitress.

“Compliments of the house,” she said. “Nice dance. Haven’t seen anything like that since I left New York.” The dance floor was full now and that was good because whatever just happened out there was a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

“Damn it!” Cynthia said.

“What?”

“That damned Erin left without me. How am I supposed to get home?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got my car.” Stupidly, we downed our margaritas before we left and I put a few dollars on the table for our waitress. I fumbled with my keys and got the door open for her. She slid in and I went around to the driver’s side. Cynthia looked at me.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“What, the dance? I have no idea. We just seemed to click,” I laughed.

“I don’t mean the dance,” she said. “I mean the kiss.”

I didn’t answer. I just reached across the console and pulled her toward me. Our lips came together and our tongues quickly followed. In her own way, Cynthia had been teasing me with other women for six months and I wasn’t willing to let her escape this time. Not that she was trying to. She was practically crawling across the console in our embrace. I found her lush tit with my hand and she moaned into my mouth.

“The kiss was just the beginning,” I whispered to her.

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to drive after you’ve been drinking so much,” she said. “Let’s get a room.”

We quickly got out of the car and tried—unsuccessfully—to control ourselves until we got into the hotel. We both looked like we’d been in a wrestling match when we reached the front desk. I’m sure the desk clerk smirked at us as he handed me the key.

We got naked quickly. Cynthia was about five-five and nicely shaped with full round breasts and nipples that craved kisses and tonguing. Her light brown hair was perfectly matched by the thatch between her legs. A thatch I examined closely with both my eyes and my tongue. We rolled together on the bed and Cynthia crawled on top of me to slide down my pole with a long, deep sigh.

“You finally got there,” she whispered. “I knew you would. I’ve just been putting it off.”

“You could have had it the first week I came to work here,” I answered as we began moving together.

“What can I say? I like foreplay. And now it’s over.”

“We’ve barely begun.”

“I hope you can stay up all night,” she said. “Because tomorrow I have to go back to my husband.”

“You’re married?”

“Oh, yeah. And when I get home, he’s going to want to know about everything that’s been in my pussy.” Married. But she was riding my cock with abandon. And her husband… fuck. I pushed up into her.

“I’d better leave plenty of evidence then.”

Back to Cassie

I wondered if that was what was happening with Cassie and me. I knew she could tease. I thought back to the fifteen-year-old I’d known so long ago. Stranger things had happened than two high school classmates getting together thirty or forty or fifty years later. I kind of understood. When you know someone in your teens or as a young adult then meet them years later, you tend to superimpose the person you knew back then on the person he or she has become. I think that’s why people who marry in that stage, and manage to overcome early hardships that plague any marriage, tend to stay together for years and years.

Forty years later, they still see the person they fell in love with, no matter how they’ve aged.

Maybe that’s not enough to hold things together. When I think of Treasure, I still think of the woman I knew when we were in our thirties—tight, trim, vivacious, fiery, willing. I knew she’d gained weight, begun to go gray, and sagged. But when I looked at her, even after having been divorced for two years, I saw that thirty-year-old beauty I’d fallen in love with.

I made phone calls and sent email messages until my computer battery gave out. I managed to reserve a decent condo in Scottsdale and contacted a couple friends who were already at Quartzsite. Then I headed back to the trailer, charging the computer and phone off the inverter as I drove. I was charged up, too. In just a few days, Alice would be with me. And soon, Cassie and Andy would join us at the Magic Circle.

I was finally ready to write the last chapter of Living Next Door to Heaven Part V: The Rock. Out there in the wilderness, camped where no one could see me, I finally let Hannah and Brian come together.

Life is easy when you can look back on it and write the story you wanted. But it doesn’t always work out so simply. I had a sudden inspiration for a sweet love story that I would include in the Pygmalion Revisited series. I’d let an old man talk to his deceased wife as he whittled a piece of wood in front of the fireplace. “Whittled Away” would be my holiday present to readers.

I hardly slept for two weeks as I prepared for Alice to visit.

2
Flight Line

20 December 2014

I was getting anxious, shifting from foot to foot like a four-year-old in need of a bathroom. Criminy! I’d just seen her four months ago. You’d think this would be easy. But here I was, waiting at the exit from the concourse, afraid that she’d…

Fuck! What was I afraid of? Since Alice sent me her flight details two weeks ago, I don’t think I’d slept through an entire night. I’d sat in front of my computer with stories in progress and had written nothing. I had an idea for a Valentine contest story. I knew Blackfeather needed work. I’d written about half of the first chapter of LNDtH Part VI: El Rancho del Corazón. I’d written another Pygmalion Revisited story. And all I could think about was Alice. She’d be with me for three solid weeks. With me. Loving me.

I wish she’d get off the fucking plane!

“Is that all the greeting I get?”

I whipped around and saw the beautiful young woman in front of me. Shit! She’d walked right by me and I didn’t recognize her!

There was some justification for that. She was dressed. Not that I expected her to get off the plane naked, but I’d never seen her in a dress. When I met her, it was summer and the girls were all in short-shorts at the carwash. Then at the club… well, the clothes were negligible. When we went to Yellowstone, she’d been in cut-offs any time we weren’t in the trailer. But this young woman was… dressed!

I wrapped her in a hug and she kissed me warmly. Then I had to hold her at arm’s length just so I could look her up and down. And up. Her heels were high enough that even my inch-high cowboy boots left me looking up into her eyes. Eyes that were hidden beneath her sunglasses and floppy hat. The charcoal gray dress was tightly fitted through the bodice and fell loosely from her waist to mid-calf. She wore a purple scarf that matched her shoes and a light gray jacket. She pulled her little carry-on suitcase behind.

“Wow! Just, wow! How can you be so much more beautiful than I even remembered? Alice, you’re simply so… beautiful.” Yeah. I’m a writer. I have so many descriptive words to use about how people look and the only one I can think of is ‘beautiful’.

“Ari, you’re staring at me. Is it okay?”

“Okay? Sweetheart, I want to take you to dinner and dancing and show you to the world! I’m sorry I’m not more dressed up.” I was wearing jeans and my cowboy boots, but I’d also put on a white shirt and was wearing my Singapore-tailored sport coat. I didn’t look too bad. Still, by comparison… “Do you have luggage to pick up?” I asked.

“Everything’s in this,” she said glancing at the little bag.

“You packed light.”

“We’re going to a nudist park. I wore most of my clothes,” she giggled. “Ari, it was so cool. It was my first time on an airplane. I was so nervous! I wished you were there with me. The flight attendant was so nice. She offered me a drink and when I said I was only nineteen, she just gushed over me. She made me a virgin bloody Mary. That was the closest I’d been to virgin since I was thirteen. And then she moved me to the front of the plane and gave me a window seat. I saw all the clouds and during her break she sat beside me.” Once the little ice had been broken when she arrived, she couldn’t stop talking about her trip. She punctuated her sentences with little kisses and we’d barely managed to move out of the flow of people rushing from the gate area to their waiting rides. “Oh! There she is! Kim! Over here!” Alice waved at a flight attendant.

“Oh, Alice. Did you find him? Is this your lucky young man?” the attendant asked as she approached us. “Oh! I’m sorry. You’re…”

“I’m her lucky young man,” I said extending my hand. “Aroslav.” She was obviously shocked by my age, but she recovered quickly.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Aroslav,” she said. “I’m Kim. It was such a delight to have Alice on our flight.”

“I can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of her.”

“Can we take you to your hotel, Kim? I mean, do you mind, Ari?” Alice asked. She leaned close to me. “I just adore her. Don’t you?”

Now that she mentioned it, Kim was adorable. Well, I’d always had a bit of a thing for flight attendants anyway.

A Long Time Ago: The Lion City

It was my first trip to Singapore and I was pretty damned excited. I’d been invited to speak at a writers’ conference on the effect of eBooks on the publishing industry. That was how I had gotten into high tech. I’d been earning a living in the industry for several years publishing trade journals and extolling the benefits of electronic publishing. The work got me noticed and I was recruited to work on the new technology that would put books on portable readers that my employer was convinced would be the wave of the future.

When I’d spoken at my first conference and had shown the palm-sized device with books on it, the twenty or so people in my session laughed at me. Literally laughed! The consensus had been that no one would give up paper to read on a miniature computer. I was talking to a bunch of Luddites.

Just a year later, though, this conference had latched onto the idea that everyone was going to read on little devices. They wanted to know how it was going to affect their publishing prospects. I had answers—or at least prognostications.

The flight from LA to Singapore is long. This was years before non-stop service between the cities and even that was nearly nineteen hours. Add a layover in Tokyo and you have a twenty-two-hour trip, but with the International Dateline, I left LA in the morning and arrived in Singapore at ten at night—the next day. It was the eight-hour flight from Narita to the Lion City that was interesting.

The flight attendants all wore print sarongs. They were stunning—most of Chinese descent. My flight attendant was no exception.

I always request an aisle seat. I hate having to climb over people to get to the restroom. Having people on the inside needing to get out just means that I get up to stretch occasionally. And it gives me better access to the flight attendants as they go by.

I had a very attentive attendant.

I’d tried to sleep as much as possible on the leg from LA to Tokyo, assisted by having stayed up most of the night before. My task on the Tokyo to Singapore leg was to stay awake while many others were nodding off to sleep. I was doing okay until the dinner menu came around and I saw Macallan 12 scotch. I’d ordered that before I got my dinner order organized. Straight up. Very mellow. I don’t remember what I ate.

Guan-yin, my flight attendant, brought coffee after my dinner and asked about my plans in Singapore. She was quite chatty and I realized that everyone around me was asleep. I suppose she had little else to do. Another flight attendant was similarly engaged up the aisle. I saw no sign of the other four.

“Of course, being a xīfāng rén, you must go to Raffles and drink a Singapore Sling,” she laughed. “They will serve it with a bowl of peanuts. It is a test. If you eat the peanuts with your fingers, you are of no… What word do I want? Value? Worth? Um… Character! In any restaurant, when you are served peanuts, eat them one at a time with chopsticks.” I’d eaten my meal with chopsticks and felt good about my skills.

“I don’t drink very much,” I said. “Though scotch is a weakness. What is it you said I am? Xīfāng rén?” That was back in the days when I could still hear out of both ears and I was good at repeating languages, even if I didn’t know what I was saying.

“Oh. That is a… um… westerner. A báirén. A white man. There is a very good scotch bar near the water. We were once an English colony, you know.”

“I take it that a rén is a man?” I asked.

“I must be very careful what I say to you,” she laughed. “You will speak Mandarin Chinese soon.”

“I doubt that. I wonder, though, will I have any difficulty communicating in Singapore?”

“Everyone speaks English. At least everyone who went to school in Singapore. English is the official language of education for everything except Mother Tongue. There are three other official languages in Singapore: Tamil, Malay, and Mandarin Chinese. All students take classes in Mother Tongue, depending on what ethnicity they are. English students must take one of the other three and most choose Chinese. So, nearly everyone in Singapore speaks English and at least one other language,” she said.

I was getting an education, but at that point my delightful teacher had to tend to the next round of drink service. The next time around she brought me another Macallan 12.

I found my way to my hotel by midnight and was sorry that I was unable to talk to Guan-yin longer. I had a day to explore Singapore before the conference started and hopefully adjust to the clock change. I get the days confused, but there was either fifteen hours or nine hours difference between here and California. Either way, it was almost impossible to communicate. Noon on Wednesday was nine p.m. Tuesday on the West Coast. Yesterday.

Fortunately, I was met by a business associate Wednesday at noon and he showed me several areas, including Raffles. He was impressed that I snatched peanuts out of the dish with my chopsticks as I drank my Singapore Sling. Believe me when I say I only needed to drink one and was glad I had the rest of the day to recover. Gin, cherry liqueur, Cointreau, Benedictine, grenadine, pineapple juice, lime juice, and bitters. We sat and talked for nearly two hours as I nursed the tall drink that would have been easy to guzzle.

For dinner, we went to the Long Beach Restaurant for chili crab and pepper crab. Steven, my host, told me that I had to compare the flavors of the two spicy dishes. It was impossible for me to choose which I liked best. But even more importantly, this is where I was introduced to watermelon juice as a before dinner drink. I didn’t sit down to another meal in Singapore without a tall cold glass before I ate.

The conference got started on Thursday. Like most of these conferences, it ran through the weekend. The attendees were largely independent writers and had to arrange time off work. I attended the keynote and dinner on Thursday and by Friday felt ready to face the conference with my own presentation. What a difference. There had been twenty skeptical people at my session in Seattle a year previously. There were over a hundred writers hungry for information in Singapore. After the presentation, I stood in the hallway with a cup of coffee and a line of people with questions that I didn’t have time to answer during the session.

I’d noticed a pretty girl waiting patiently until the line died down. I excused myself from the last questioner and turned to face her.

Like most xīfāng rén, I find it almost impossible to guess the age of an Asian woman. She could be twelve or thirty. Personally, I use clothing as my clue. This young woman was wearing a fashion I’d seen while strolling through the shops in the business district the day before. She had flat shoes with no socks, black leggings that stuck out beneath a very short bubble skirt and stopped about mid-calf, and about four layers of different styles of shirt that hung off her shoulders in different directions. I guessed fourteen.

“If I had known I was serving someone so important, I might have asked you back to the crew quarters,” she said when I took her offered hand. What?

“Um… Do I know you?”

“How soon these báirén forget,” she laughed.

“Guan-yin? Oh, my! You look so different out of uniform,” I said. Honestly, she looked much older on the airplane. I mean, not old, but… Oh, shit!

“I look even more different when I am out of these clothes,” she whispered.

We had a lovely evening. I found out over dinner that she was also a writer and already had a reader on which she had downloaded many books.

“Mostly fan fiction right now,” she said. “I’m shipping a Star Wars pairing of Han Solo and Luke Skywalker that is very hot.” I have never figured out what it is about gay male sex that turns on so many straight women. I guess it’s the same as lesbian sex turning on men. My head wasn’t cooperating.

“Do you live here in Singapore?” I asked.

“Yes.” She looked me in the eye. I hadn’t felt that hungry appraisal since Jodie back in grad school. “I wouldn’t have to go home tonight, though.”

“I’d love to show you the beautiful room they gave me at the Fairmont.”

“I’ve always wanted to see their rooms.”

It was a beautiful room. I’d been surprised that I had such a nice space, but the company had a corporate account there. We stood by the window and looked out over the red roofs of Clarke Quay. I turned to Guan-yin and met her lips as she lifted them to me.

We took our time and undressed each other as we continued to watch the lights of the city below us. We were illuminated only by the light that came in through our window. No matter what style she dressed in or how juvenile her taste in literature might be, Guan-yin was no child. Her breasts were a perfect size for her small frame and I answered the call of her nipples to be sucked. She was barely over five feet tall and I easily lifted her in my arms to carry to the bed. She had curly dark hair on her mons, but was smooth below. She rolled toward me and gasped.

“What is it?” I asked as she pushed away from me slightly.

“Oh! I thought it was just prejudice.”

“I don’t think I’m prejudiced. Did I do something to offend you?”

“No! Not that. Chinese women… They… We never have sex with western men. I thought it was just prejudice that my mother passed on to me and I was happy to defy her and take a western lover. But I don’t think that will fit.” She touched my erect cock and stroked it softly. “I will suck, Aroslav, but I don’t think I can put something that size in my yīndào.”

“I’m just barely average,” I laughed.

“For a white man, perhaps. Chinese men are as long, but they are slimmer. I think you would hurt me.” That sucked. What could I say?

“I certainly don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “If it is too much, we don’t need to have intercourse to enjoy each other. For now, why don’t you relax and enjoy it while I eat you.”

“Really? You’d do that?” I started heading south, sprinkling little kisses across her breasts and abdomen. “Ari, before you do… I have a nǎiyóu yīndào. A very… creamy pussy. If it offends you, you do not need to touch it.” You’ve got to be kidding! I continued south and soothed her back as I opened the petals of her tiny flower.

I love cunnilingus. From that first time with Cher when I was bicycling cross country, I have relished the opportunity to lick any pussy I could get my tongue into. But I have never met a pussy that dripped such copious amounts of thick white lubricant. It even tasted creamy.

“Oh, yes! Lick my yīndì!” she cried. I wasn’t sure what she was specifically referring to, but I made sure to lick everything that was available. Those were the last mostly English words that I heard for the next several minutes.

No matter how much I licked up, there was an unending supply of creamy lubricant filling her pussy and I had to see if I’d be accepted. I kissed my way up Guan-yin and she hungrily met my lips, cleaning her own fluids off my face. I pressed the head of my cock against her pussy lips and felt every muscle in her body tense up.

“Don’t hurt me.”

“Guan-yin, no matter what you may have heard about American men, I will not hurt you. If it doesn’t work, we’ll do something else,” I said as I pushed forward. We both groaned as I began to penetrate the tight confines of her tiny pussy. By this time, I wasn’t sure it would work either. I paused and rested periodically, but Guan-yin pulled me forward and I sank deeper. When I was fully lodged in her home, we stayed still and both panted. I’d never felt anything so tight on my cock and Guan-yin had never been so stretched.

“Ari, it is okay. I can take you, but be gentle and not too long. If we are too vigorous, I am certain I will be stretched beyond the use of normal men.”

“It won’t be long, I promise,” I said. Just starting to slide back and forth a little let me know that I would not last long. She slipped her hand between us and I could feel her begin to work her clit. As soon as she touched it, I felt a new surge of lubrication deep within her and her muscles truly began to relax. I moved more freely and as I did, Guan-yin ramped up quickly to another orgasm. When she came, there was no holding back and I let go while pressing our pubic bones tightly together. She squealed when the first pulse hit and came again.

Pulling out was almost painful as my sensitive cock was dragged through her tight sheath.

“I have never been so filled!” Guan-yin exclaimed. “Or thrilled. Oh, Ari, I loved it, but I don’t think I can do that again. Am I all stretched out?” I kissed my way down her body and between her legs. There was so much cream dripping from her pussy that it looked like I’d come in her unprotected. I pulled off the condom and checked it to see that it was quite full. I tossed it in the wastebasket. Then I cleaned her thoroughly with my tongue and she rose again to a climax in just a few moments.

“My dear, I don’t believe you have suffered. You are so tight I could barely get my tongue in to lick you.”

“Could we just do that the rest of the weekend?” she asked. “Until, maybe, just before you leave. I do want to feel it again.”

Hmm. I could do that.

Back to Alice and Kim

It turned out that Kim was based in Phoenix and her apartment was only about a mile from our condo in Scottsdale. There was a lot of chit-chat about flying and Kim’s schedule. She had to be back at the airport Sunday morning for a long day flying from Phoenix to LA to Reno to Seattle to Salt Lake City and back to Phoenix. But then she would have three days off.

We arranged to have dinner together on Monday. Then I took Alice to our little condo.

It was a nice place. One-bedroom, full kitchen, balcony overlooking a prize-winning golf course. And in the courtyard, a beautiful pool and spa. Before Alice could strip, though, I wanted to take this stunning young woman out to dinner.

“Don’t you have food in the condo?” she asked.

“Alice, I’m an old man…”

“You are not!”

“An older guy in the company of a drop-dead gorgeous young woman who is dressed to the nines. Please don’t blame me for wanting to show her off to the world,” I said. “You are just so beautiful!”

“I get it. You want to strut around in front of all the old men in the restaurant showing them what you get to go home with,” she said.

“No! That’s not it,” I hastened to object. Then I thought. “Yeah. I guess that is what it is. I feel like I’m somebody when I’m with you and I want to show off.”

“Ari,” she whispered as she closed the gap to kiss me lightly. “You are somebody. Somebody I love. I’ll agree to let you show me off under one condition. No. Make that two conditions.”

“What is it you want, sweetheart?”

“First, when you are done showing me off and we’ve eaten our fill of whatever you’re going to feed me, we come back here and you remove every stitch of my clothing and see how long we can make love tonight. Ari, I want you.” I was enthusiastically nodding my head. I wouldn’t be drinking tonight. I needed all my stamina. “And second, Monday, when Kim comes to visit, you help me seduce and ravish her.” I caught my breath.

“Really? Why do you even want me here?”

“Because I’m scared a little.” I held her in my arms and led her to the sofa to sit while she explained. “I work in a gentlemen’s club. I’m a stripper. The other employees are strippers. We watch each other strip. We bump into each other in the dressing room. We even become friends and hug each other while we’re naked. Sometimes we kiss. But I’ve never gone further than kissing or some good-natured tweaks of a girl’s nipple or slap on the ass. It’s not unheard of for girls to help each other out in the dressing room. Girls turn me on, but I’ve never met one I wanted to go down on. Until today.”

“So, you’ve never gone down on another girl?” I said. She shook her head. “And you’re afraid you won’t like it?”

“Not exactly that,” Alice said softly. “I’m afraid she won’t like me.”

“Honey, I will make love to you as long as we are both awake tonight,” I said. “And I will do my best to help you seduce and make love to Kim. As long as it’s seduction and not coercion or force.” She nodded her head. “And my sweet girl, I will do this even if we don’t go out to dinner tonight. I love you.”

Alice bounced off my lap and grabbed my hand, dragging me off the sofa. I was ready to just undress the girl and start making love.

“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked brightly.

On Sunday, Alice and I commandeered the fireplace grill. No one else seemed interested. Alice had left ten inches of snow in Montana and I was still in shirtsleeves. But most of the snowbirds were freezing in the sixty-two-degree weather. We wore our swimming suits and took a blanket with us. We had a bottle of champagne and had grilled a steak and asparagus for dinner. It was fully dark by six o’clock and the temperature had been dropping for two hours. Still, we were warm and cozy wrapped in our blanket in one of the lounge chairs we’d dragged from the pool.

“I’ve never celebrated Solstice with you, Ari. Tell me about the ritual. Including making love at the end.”

“Well, typically, I’d have twenty to thirty guests. Everyone brought food and we’d have a regular feast. I especially looked forward to Mary’s chocolate covered brittle. Whatever it was she did when she made it, it was the one sweet that I looked forward to every year. Before it was gone, I tried to squirrel away half a dozen pieces to eat later.”

“I didn’t know you like sweets!”

“Mostly, I just like sweet women.”

“What did you serve?”

“I changed it up each year. One year I wrapped a ham in pastry dough and baked it. I have this incredible recipe for solstice turkey that includes stuffing it with oranges, inserting a thousand slivers of garlic under the skin, then cooking it on the grill while basting it with orange juice, whiskey, and butter. Pretty remarkable. I served prime rib one year. I cooked a leg of pork, which is not the same as a ham. I even made an Italian timpano one year. I can’t even begin to describe it. You have to experience it. Or watch the movie The Big Night sometime. That’s where I got the idea. One year, I made it four different times for different occasions.”

“And now you just grill a steak for two. It seems like so much is missing.”

“I loved the celebration every year. It’s my favorite holiday. But sharing a simple meal with you for this celebration… It’s the best.”

“What else happened?”

“One of the things that has been missing in my private celebration since I moved into the trailer is lighting three candles to represent the goddess as maiden, mother, and crone, and then telling the story of the goddess in the underworld. There’s an official version someplace of Persephone and Hades, but every year I wrote my own. I did one where I rewrote Christmas Carols and did the entire story musically. One year, I told it as a story in the old west. Once it was set in Afghanistan. I made it different every year.”

“Tell me, Ari. Tell me the story.”

A Few Years Ago: The Goddess in the Underworld

The last time I told the story, I was an angry and bitter man. The love of my life wasn’t interested. It was a shock that sent my entire system into spasms. My back was wracked with pain and I was leaning heavily on my ritual staff. But we were still celebrating solstice with our friends. It was my thirtieth solstice celebration. I stood in front of our friends knowing—knowing!—this would be the last time.

I rapped. Or tried to.

I tossed and turned in my rocky bed.
No visions of sugarplums danced in my head.
I slept with my head filled with dread
When in the middle of the night, midnight, a voice said,
“Poor man.”
I floated above and could see I was dead
Panic in my chest was being fed
By memories of darkness and light and that led
To philosophers and poets and something I read
About yin yang.
Poor man.
No yin. All yang.

I clawed my way to the top of the bottom of the heap
Where I learned the art of how to keep
A spark of light alive in the deep
Chasm that opened beneath my feet.
I discovered that opening was more than a well
As I slipped at the edge and tumbled and fell
And my voice was silent ’cause there was no one to tell
That because it’s private doesn’t mean it’s not hell.

Then you came to me, gagged and bound. You
Wore nothing at all but the pain that hounds you—
The source of which still confounds you
’cause there’s simply no reason for the empty around you.
Poor woman.
You carried a grudge for all that you’d lost
And wanted to blame me for all that it cost,
But I cut the cords that bound you and tossed
Them into hell’s flames where they burned with the dross.
Yin Yang
Poor woman
All yin. No yang.

There was a deafening crash when we came together.
Nature abhors a vacuum whether
In outer space or in the nether
Reaches of an empty heart wanting better.
We reached the heights as lover to lover
And danced in the brightness under the cover
Of the sun. We never thought to discover
Whether two empty vessels could fill each other.

You said it was nice but you had to be going.
There were seeds to be planted and crops to be sowing
In fields of plenty where warm winds were blowing
Across the tulips and the love we were growing.
My heart shriveled up; it was so complicated.
I didn’t want you to go; I was so frustrated
Over losing the throne I’d abdicated.
But it seemed life alone was the one that was fated.

Then you took my crown
And turned it around
Put it over your hips instead of a gown.
When I said “don’t leave,” you said, “don’t frown,
Enter into me and you will have new life
As the prince of light and I’ll be your wife
Even though we’re surrounded by a world that’s rife
With terror and hardship and hatred and strife.”

Wherever you walked there was hope and good cheer
And I learned to be brave and to show no fear
Of the haunting ghosts of sadness and tears
That waited below in the winter each year.
By autumn’s first frost I was pushing up daisies
While you wandered free in the places
I’d come to love; it drove me crazy
That I was again consigned to Hades.
But now there’s the hope of life anew
If I just have the courage to wait a few
Months until the wheel turns true
And I can be reborn to be with you.

Because that’s the promise of the eternal wheel:
What comes around goes around, that’s the deal.

Back to Alice

“You still love her, don’t you, Ari?” Alice whispered.

“Always will, sweetheart. But there is no going back. I’ve left that life on the log,” I said. We kissed and talked about our memories of the past year, especially our week together at Yellowstone.

“What are you hoping for the future, Ari?” Alice asked as we held our candles.

“I’m hoping,” I said, looking into her eyes and feeling a connection that went beyond her sitting on my lap, “that my goddess will visit me again.” She smiled and kissed me. I lit my little stub of a candle and set it on the fireplace. “And you?” I asked.

“I’m hoping to celebrate Solstice with you again next year,” she whispered. She lit her candle and pushed me back on the lounger. She straddled me and I pulled our blanket over us. Before she settled into my lap, Alice dragged my swimming trunks down to free my cock. It wasn’t very impressive, but that didn’t stop her from settling on top of me. She pulled the gusset of her bikini to the side so her labia could nestle with my cock.

And we kissed.

I pushed her bikini above her breasts and she pressed them against my bare chest. We could have just packed up our things and gone to our room, but under the dark of the moon and next to the glowing embers of the fire, the union of god and goddess took on a mystical life of its own. As we kissed, I became hard. When I was hard, Alice simply moved forward and slid back down, taking me into her warm depths. My hands found the round globes of her butt and rode with her as she moved up and down my shaft.

And we kissed.

She clasped me in her warm sheath and I lost myself in the sensuality of my goddess. I have spoken of many women as goddesses, but that is the essence of woman. The young woman writhing on my dick was just that. Perhaps she was Selene, the maiden goddess, but she was no virgin. She was far from the crone, Hecate. But the mother goddess, Demeter, seemed too focused on the hearth to capture the spirit of the woman in my arms. There must be another goddess—one that is hot and wet and demanding of the essence of man, her god, to fill her. My heart raced in syncopation with the strokes she took on my staff. I suckled her breasts, not for food, but for passion. I captured her buttocks in my hands and held her to me. I breathed out my passion and my love.

And we kissed.

The temperature was near fifty, the fire was merely coals, and our candles were melted wax on the brick surface when we finally reached our climax. Our moans were swallowed by the other’s mouth. No one disturbed us as we continued to love beneath our blanket long into the night.

And we kissed.

We did make it to bed Sunday night—or perhaps it was early Monday morning. We slept late on Monday and ate in the condo. I did a little writing, trying to get back on track with Living Next Door to Heaven. It had been such a release to write the end of book five and taking a break was making it difficult to get back in the flow of the story. I knew that I didn’t want to make a bunch of fake crises for the crew to handle, but when it comes down to it, there isn’t that much daily excitement in the life of a college student if you aren’t taking on a bunch of new lovers or stepping on a ping pong ball. Didn’t get that reference? Read the script for Mame or watch the movie.

It was nice, though, to simply lie in bed cuddled up to Alice while we wrote or read. Or kissed. Have I mentioned how much I like kissing Alice?

By mid-afternoon, though, Alice was getting antsy. She put on her bikini and demanded that I take her to the pool.

“Shit, Ari! Is it going to be this cold at Quartzsite? I’ll be poking guys’ eyes out with my nipples!”

“I asked if you were sure you wanted to come out here. It’s only sixty-five,” I protested.

“That’s forty-five degrees warmer than it was in Montana when I left,” she said. She walked to the pool, brazenly strutting around in her bikini in spite of the temperature. She stuck her toe in the water. “Ari! Come here!” I hurried to her side.

And she pushed me into the fracking pool!

As I fell toward the water, I knew I was going to die. You should have waited until I put you on an insurance policy. When I hit the water, my heart didn’t stop. I came up spluttering and grabbed for my sunglasses before they floated away. In spite of the temperature, the sky was crystal clear and the sun was glaring down.

Alice dove into the pool next to me before I had a chance to completely register my surroundings.

“It’s heated!” she cried. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’m going to make sure Kim brings a bikini. This is so great!” And that explained why I wasn’t having a heart attack. We were going to freeze when we left the pool and the cool wind hit us, but it was a calm day. We should have enough time to dry off before we froze.

We splashed and swam in the pool, enjoying playing with each other. When we finally left the water, there were six old guys sitting in loungers watching us. To a one, they were dressed in shorts and hoodie sweatshirts. Alice boldly walked the entire length of the pool in front of them, dragging her towel behind her. I followed hoping the guys who came for the show would suffer all night long.

Alice tried diligently to make sure I wouldn’t have any dramatic response to seeing Kim. I was sure I wouldn’t have any responses for a long time. It takes a while to recharge. I’d do about anything for that girl, though. Just to have her curl up next to me while we were reading.

She was downstairs waiting at the door when Kim arrived. I was in the kitchen. I decided to do one of my favorite poached chicken recipes. If nothing else, it would show Alice I could cook something that wasn’t on the grill. I have an oven in the trailer that has never been used. It has to be lit by hand, which I could figure out eventually. But ovens are difficult to clean. Even when you are very careful, they still get dirty. So rather than mess up oven, I find other ways to cook.

The women were giggling when they entered the condo. I was just turning the temperature down on the rice. When I came out of the kitchen to greet Kim, I held out my hand. She passed right by it and gave me a hug and a warm kiss on the lips. Not wet and passionate, mind you, but a little more than a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you so much for inviting me to dinner,” she said. “You can’t imagine how tired I get of eating alone or with my roommates. All three of us work different schedules, so usually it is alone. I’m so glad to have three days off, even though it means I have to work Christmas Day.”

“Do you have family you’ll get to see during the holiday?” I asked.

“Not until next week. My parents live in Virginia and will spend a week in a condo like this over New Year’s. I’ll get another three days off and then have the misery flight on New Year’s Day. At least on Christmas Day, most of the fliers aren’t hung over.”

“I know what you mean. I’m always thankful we aren’t open on New Year’s Day,” Alice said. “This year, I’m taking the whole season off.”

“Where do you work, Alice?” Kim asked. “I thought you were a student.” Hmm. I wondered how Alice was going to handle that. I had assumed she already covered the subject with her new friend.

“I’m a dancer. I’ll tell you all about it after dinner while Ari is out having his evening cigar.” She gave me a significant look and I figured out that I was going to take a walk with a cigar this evening. Well, this was all for Alice and Kim was pleasant company.

The table in the dining room was quite small. In a pinch, you could seat four at it but, even at the counter, there were only three stools. Seating three at the round table was comfortable and put us all within easy reach of each other. That proved significant as there were frequent touches during our conversation.

“What’s the most exciting place you’ve traveled to?” Alice asked as she touched Kim’s hand. The touch lingered as Kim swallowed her food.

“Exciting isn’t the same as the favorite place,” Kim said. “I had way too much excitement in San Francisco a year ago. I got separated from the other flight attendants heading for the hotel after dinner and took a wrong turn. I ended up in a place called the Tenderloin. It scared me to death. I was sure I was going to be dragged into an alley, gang raped, and sold into slavery.”

“How did you get out?” I asked. I’d been in that area and wasn’t even comfortable there as a man. Kim turned toward me and repeated Alice’s gesture by laying her hand lightly on mine.

“The kindness of strangers,” she whispered.

“A Streetcar Named Desire,” I responded automatically.

“Oh, my gosh! You know!” she said, gripping my hand a little more tightly. “No one knows that.”

“I’m surprised you know it,” I laughed. “It was, I’m sure, before your time.”

“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers,” she quoted. “And my love of old movies. If it came out before 1960, I’ve probably seen it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like you were old.”

“Not that old!” I said. Streetcar came out in ’51.

“Ari is a playwright and novelist. He knows all that kind of thing.”

“Really? What have you written?”

“Mysteries, thrillers, romance.”

Thankfully, Alice changed the subject before we got into details. Then she sent me out to have my smoke while she and Kim did up the dishes.

When I got back to the condo about forty minutes later, I noted that the furniture in the little living area had been rearranged. The coffee table had been moved away from the sofa and the chairs were against the wall. I called out when I entered and Alice rushed to meet me. She was wearing a robe and said they were just in the process of changing clothes. She handed me my Bermudas and a t-shirt and said to change into them quickly and sit in the middle of the sofa.

“Everything you need is in the pockets,” she said. “And lose the jockeys.”

I changed clothes quickly, putting my jeans and oxford shirt on a dining room chair with my briefs and socks. I checked the pockets of the shorts and found a wad of dollar bills and a couple twenties in one pocket and some condoms in the other. I got the picture and sat in the center of the sofa.

“Get your hands out of your pants, guys. Here she is, straight from Roxie’s Foxes, Sierra!” Alice announced from the bedroom. She danced in with her cell phone playing some music with a strong beat. It was a little tinny coming from the tiny speaker, but she didn’t let that stop her performance. I could see Kim peeking around the bedroom door to watch.

I’d only seen Alice on stage once. When she’d taken me for private dances in the ‘naughty room’, the focus was more on getting up close and personal than on dancing. She was wearing a flouncy short skirt and her bikini top. I tipped her almost as soon as she appeared and she lifted her skirt so I could slide the bill under the edge of her g-string. It only took two songs for Alice to get completely naked and make sure that I was getting some great entertainment. I just kept handing her bills and putting them wherever she told me to. That included having her hold her pussy lips apart and then squeezing them shut on the bill I held between my lips.

When Alice had finished dancing, she cuddled up next to me on the sofa and kissed me long and hard. I did not hesitate to pet her beautiful breasts and hold her tightly, breaking all strip club rules.

“I thought you didn’t want to feel like a stripper,” I whispered.

“That was in August,” she giggled. “Now I know I’m your lover and I wanted to play with you. But you’re really going to love the second act.”

“Second act?”

“Gentlemen, direct your attention to our center stage for a new sensation,” she said in a louder announcer voice. “This girl has been a member of the mile-high club since she was sixteen. She usually entertains at thirty thousand feet, but she’s put her feet on the ground tonight. For one night only, Ariel!” Alice thumbed in a new song on her phone and after a couple measures, Kim spun into the center of the living room.

She didn’t look at us. She danced. I think part of the time she had her eyes closed. I pulled out a dollar bill to tip her, but she didn’t notice. Alice and I just watched her whirl and spin and get lost in her dance.

Then Kim pushed down her bikini bottoms and we saw she was wearing a thong. I glanced at Alice and she shrugged. Then she reached across me to rub my cock through my shorts. Yes, I was enjoying Kim’s display. When her top came off, there was nothing under it but Kim. She wasn’t huge on top, but her nipples were long and stiff.

She opened her eyes, looking a little worried as she searched out Alice and me. She saw I had dollar bills in my hands and danced up closer. She looked at Alice and then turned her right hip to me, holding out the waist of the G-string for me to slide the bill up her thigh to be snapped in place. Seeing that I had a second dollar ready, she turned the other hip and repeated the process. We could easily see she was flushed.

Kim looked at the bills in her belt and folded them down tightly before dancing back in front of us. She reached for Alice’s hand and had her take hold of the folded bill on her right hip. Then she had me clasp the other bill. It was like having handles on her waistband. We got the message. As we pulled, the tiny G-string slid down her hips, over her mound, and out of her crack as she wiggled. Soon, the panties were off her feet and we looked up into the smoothly shaved slit and tight landing strip above.

Alice immediately stood to join Kim, dancing together and rubbing their bodies against each other. They worked their way back in front of me, their hips swaying in unison.

“Say, Mister,” Alice said huskily. “I see you’ve still got your two-for-one ticket.” She pointed at the twenties remaining in my hand. “You want two dances or two girls?” I held a bill out to each of them and they took my hands to pull me toward the bedroom.

A Long Time Ago: Ménage à Trois

It wasn’t my first threesome by a long shot. The first was in high school. Well, technically, it was during senior week when we were all sleeping until noon or later and going out to party by five. I guess it’s a country thing. My graduating class had sixty-five people in it. We could get just about everybody who wanted to party in five cars. We’d been to Randy’s house with the pool and I watched Bruce dive off the bathhouse. He almost didn’t make it all the way to the pool.

We weren’t all drunk or stoned. We were all a little reckless.

I don’t even remember whose station wagon we piled into to go home. I know that I was sitting in the back with Deb pushed back between my legs and Shannon sitting wedged in the corner next to us with her feet over Deb’s. My knees were pulled up and my wrist was on my knee in such a way that my hand dangled just in front of Deb’s breast. Every so often we’d hit a bump and I’d just bump into her breast a little. Then Deb would lean forward to say something to Shannon and her breast would press into my palm and I’d squeeze a little. Deb wiggled back against my growing erection.

We came to a stop and let one of the guys out at his house. Of course, we all had to get out of the car and say goodnight—or good morning. It must have been about three. Then we piled back into the car. I got into the back first, of course, but was surprised when Deb took Shannon’s place in the corner and Shannon fit herself between my legs. Now my hand was dangling a scarce inch away from Shannon’s right tit.

Shannon was a fantasy girl in high school. She was about five-four, blonde, trim, and sexy. Last December, we’d been working on the Christmas convo at school and needed to run to a store for more crepe paper streamers. I had Mom’s Galaxie, the passenger door of which conveniently didn’t open from the outside. I’d figured the advantages of that quickly. I held the driver’s door open for Shannon so she could slide across. I slid quickly beside her and before she moved all the way over I said, “Shannon, look up.” She looked up at the mistletoe I’d hung over the dome light and I pressed my lips against hers.

I expected it to be a pretty quick peck and wasn’t prepared for Shannon to pull me in for a real kiss. A good, tongue-filled, deep kiss. When she released me, she didn’t slide the rest of the way over.

“That was sneaky,” she giggled. “Nice, but sneaky.”

“Well, I guess you’ll know the next time,” I laughed. We ran our errand and when she got back in the car, she stopped in the middle of the seat and looked at me expectantly. The second kiss was even better than the first. When we got back to the school with the crepe, we paused for a good five-minute tongue-battle before we went in.

Deb and I had been working together on my evolution show, but we hadn’t yet decided we were really dating more than just having fun together, so I decided to take a chance.

“Shannon, would you… um… I’d like to take you out this weekend,” I said. The kiss had given me courage that I’d never have had otherwise.

“Oh, Ari. I’d like to, really. But… well, I think things are getting serious with Eric. I just turned eighteen and that’s when he said he’d give me his frat pin. I think he’s going to do it this weekend. Um… I guess that means I can’t do this kind of thing any longer. I liked the kiss, though,” she said.

Yeah. I liked it, too.

I wasn’t certain what the status of the boyfriend was now that graduation loomed near, but she wiggled back between my legs and against my hard cock. Deb and I knew we were headed in different directions this summer and planned to do as much as possible in the limited time and space we had. The car bounced. Shannon’s tit bounced. My hand bounced. Shannon leaned forward to whisper something in Deb’s ear and her right breast was in my hand. I squeezed. I’d touched that little tit a few nights earlier as we were ‘passing the bod’, a game we played at parties. I liked the feeling of it in my hand.

Shannon’s hand clamped over mine and I figured she was about to scream at me. Instead, she crushed my hand to her breast and held it there as she sat back. Her other hand moved between us and squeezed my cock. I looked at Deb and she was grinning at me. What the hell. If it’s okay with my girlfriend and okay with Shannon, I was going to enjoy rubbing and squeezing heaven’s first tit. It was luscious and destined to be over all too soon, as we stopped at Shannon’s house next.

We all piled out and hugged Shannon. There were kisses going around as well. Deb kept hold of my hand and stopped me from getting back in the station wagon.

“I left my car here earlier,” Deb said. We waved to our friends and they drove off leaving the three of us on the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to go yet, do you?” Shannon asked. She leaned forward and gave Deb a little kiss on the lips and then did the same to me. She took my hand and led us into the house and straight to her bedroom. “Mom and Dad are on the opposite side of the house,” Shannon whispered. “But Amy is just on the other side of the bathroom so we need to be quiet.” Amy was Shannon’s year-younger sister and every bit as cute.

I made sure the door was closed and caught Deb and Shannon in a kiss.

“Could you, uh… help me take care of something?” Deb asked, tilting her head toward me.

“You’ll really let me?” Shannon whispered. Deb nodded.

“Believe me, there’s enough for both of us.”

I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I was in a room with a bed and two of the hottest girls in my graduating class. And then they descended on me.

I know what you’re thinking. He said he didn’t lose his virginity until college. Well, that’s right. But I was the best blown virgin in my freshman class. We didn’t get completely undressed, but pants came down and girl’s underwear got lost and I got to suck those gorgeous boobs I’d lusted after for three years.

I’m a little slow about relationships. I always read and even write about high school guys who are sure of themselves and confident in reading what a woman wants. Not me. I just let them lead. But even I eventually understood that I wasn’t the center attraction in this threesome. Deb had once mentioned that she was bi-curious and wouldn’t mind making out with a girl for a while. I thought she and Carol might have done a little something in front of Jon on Valentine’s Day when I was with Georgia. But it was clear that Deb was using my cock to entice Shannon into playing with Deb. It was, however, the greatest blowjob of my young life. They made me lie back and then the two of them licked up and down my cock and kissed around it. They were lip-locked over the head when I erupted and they kept me sealed in their mouths with their tongues working overtime against me and each other until I slipped out from between them. They continued to kiss.

It wasn’t long before the two girls were too involved with each other to pay any more attention to me. Deb waved me away. I got out of bed and pulled my pants up. While I was putting my shoes on, I got a glance up Shannon’s skirt to her blonde thatch. I couldn’t resist. I ran a hand up the inside of each girl’s thigh and their legs parted enough that I could dip my fingers into the wet warmth of both girls. They kept kissing and had hands on each other’s tits as I continued to diddle until each girl had come. Satisfied that my services were no longer needed, I headed to the door, licking my fingers and comparing the scent of the two girls. They never noticed me leave.

I stopped for a moment outside the door and just leaned against the wall breathing deeply. I shoved a hand in my pocket to rearrange my cock that had swollen again while I fingered the girls and felt Deb’s car key. At least I had a way home if I could stay awake.

“I can’t believe they left you in that condition,” a voice said beside me. “Selfish bitches.” I turned to see Amy. She was looking straight at my crotch. I was looking at hers. She had panties on and a silky nightgown that almost covered them. “She’s always leaving her messes for me to clean up,” Amy continued as she sank to her knees in front of me. In a second, she had my cock out and was attempting to prove that she could suck as well as her sister. It didn’t take long for me to reward her efforts.

“God, Amy. That was amazing. Thank you.”

“Do you want to fuck me?” she asked, pulling her panties down and off. She put her hands against the wall next to her sister’s door and thrust her butt out.

“You did such a good job, I won’t be hard for the rest of the night,” I laughed softly.

“Would you at least get me off?” she said, wiggling her butt from side to side. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to leave a girl in need. Amy was surprised when I leaned in to kiss her, but responded readily. I had one hand up under her nightie and the other hand stroking her steamy pussy. I had a feeling she’d been listening outside her sister’s door the whole time we were in there. She was primed and slammed her butt back against the door when she came, whining in my mouth.

“What?” came a voice from the bedroom.

“You better go,” Amy whispered. I did, and heard the bedroom door open just as I stepped out the front door.

Back to Alice and Kim

I completely enjoyed my time with Alice and Kim. Alice had given me a supply of condoms, so I knew she expected me to use them, at least with Kim. Alice and I had confirmed each other’s blood tests and had never used a condom. I loved having the two girls stacked on top of each other making out as I licked both their pussies. They managed to position themselves at the edge of the bed in such a way that I could slip into one pussy and then the other as I pumped in and out. I filled the condom and I’m not sure which girl’s pussy I was in at the time. I sank to my knees and made sure they both had a sweet orgasm. The entire time they had been face to face and mouth to mouth.

It became clear to me that, like the first threesome I’d been in, I was an accessory, not the main event. I had plenty of time to recover as I lay beside the two girls and distributed little pets and kisses as they discovered each other. Alice kissed me and petted with me while Kim was between her legs. Then I got to clean Alice’s juices from Kim’s face while my girlfriend collected her own reward between Kim’s legs.

Eventually, a new condom was applied to my rejuvenated cock and Kim mounted me for a long, luxurious ride while Alice pressed her pussy into my mouth. Alice finally fell asleep between Kim and me.

I left the girls asleep the next morning when I got up to make coffee. I checked email and Facebook then opened Blackfeather. I was still waiting for Jay’s comments, but as I read I could already hear him clearing his throat and saying, “It’s too easy for them.” That was always the hardest part about writing. As I read through the first fifty pages I could see that half of what I’d written needed to be cut and I really hadn’t resolved the major issues. Proto Raven was one thing, but introducing Proto Wolf was going to be tricky. Still, I could see the wolf was a unifying factor between the timelines and even with the younger kids.

That was a preview of American Backroads. To read the rest purchase the book.

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