i took a shower with a girl one time; whenever it was my turn to get behind her and let her take the shower in her face, i would sneak and pee on her naked butt and hip. we traded places 4 or 5 times and I peed on her each time.

after we showered, she said "I know what you were doing."

We didn't talk about it.

I didn't deny it.

next shower, I did it again, and about the fourth time, she bent over real far, let me pee directly on her naked butthole, and turned and drank the last of it. I couldn't believe she drank it and asked "Did you ... get any?" She said "Yes!" sounding very excited, and we never spoke of it again.

I spent the night with a couple once, by surprise. I visited and we just stayed up so late, they invited me to sleep in the guest bedroom.

She was very pretty and had beautiful, jutting breasts.

I heard someone showering after we all went to our beds, and she suddenly swept into my bedroom and climbed over me, engulfing my instantly hard dick in her mouth and whipping her head up and down, obviously trying to suck a quick load out of me. As she did, I raised my head and ate her pussy passionately.

We could only do it for a minute without rousing his suspicion. Neither of us came, but what a moment!

She was very shy, but it was her who kissed my neck when we were only supposed to be hugging after a church meeting.

She had been sent as a young girl to live with and take care of an elder aunt, and that had made her who she was. A puff of smoke, wisp of barely heard words, few and far between. She had married a cop and kept him together for 22 years. One night he had stepped over the line and when I met her she had been alone for 3 years.

I had been alone 2 years, and had this large, pornographic past attached to me additionally. I was not weird, but my experience was so rare, it might as well have been, and I walked alone.

After she kissed me, we waited a week, then became lovers. She was coming to me from a cop's bed -- a spidery aunt's soul trap. I came to her from a past almost no one would have wanted to know about, though almost anyone would have seized on it for purposes of talk.

She surprised me, she was so sensual. I had never flowed like that with any woman, and with her every movement was part of every other kiss, caress, sigh and feeling my most private thing inside her most private thing was sublime. I never enjoyed anyone so well.

One night I whispered something to her about her pussy, and she stopped everything. Took me by the face gently and said 'that word makes me uncomfortable.'

I was surprised. I'd always thought it was the prettiest sexual term, but I wanted things to be good for her, so I did what I could to remove it from my thoughts. With 'pussy' off limit as too vulgar, I was left with nothing to say. I suppose she hadn't realized such a basic limit would leave us speechless. We had talked a little -- she had been quieter than me, by nature, and hardly said a word til she realized my silence was restricting me. I was not the same man, though I tried to be.

After a half hour of a new kind of awkwardness between us, she held my face again, tenderly, and told me I could say anything I wanted to say to her. Tongue set free again, I was off the leash, and we went back to our loving. She made dinner for me once, but we were both so consumed by desire that, when I came in, we kissed and she turned off the stove and we went to bed and made love all night. Ate supper for breakfast before we both went off to our worldly works.

Turned out she liked being talked to in the vulgar way. That excited me more than ever, and I watched in amazement one night when she began helplessly sucking my toes, as if each one was a dick. I had never thought of my toes as sexual, but the way her mouth worked on them went straight to the little area just under my pee hole and sizzled like a beautiful electric shock.

We became more and more familiar, and she began blowing me, accepting my training when I needed to help her use lips and not teeth. She gagged the first time she ate my sperm, but never again after that. She seemed more to drink than to eat it, in fact. Slurping so that I was ashamed one night when her daughter stayed in the next bedroom.

I went through an extreme challenge once and did not visit her bed for a month, and that daughter, a pretty redheaded 18 year old, actually approached me at the college and asked me to come back and sleep with her mother again as soon as possible. "She is impossible without you!"

I came back, and could not function right, so we did a little, then nestled together for hours and felt naked, and made a date for a few weeks later, when my agon would be complete.

For those weeks, she called me every day and reminded me how many days were left until I would be inside her again. She always asked me to save my sperm for her, and always made sure to say that she was going to use her mouth on my priivates like the starving woman she was.

The last several nights, I continued jacking my dick to the point of orgasm, then stopping just short. My balls got in the way of my legs as I walked around during those weeks. My balls bulged for awhile, then ached for awhile, then felt so unusually full that I don't have words for it. I have never had such a load in my nuts in all my life, and when she would call very late to remind me not to cum, I would tell her I was hard as an oak, so full of cum I was afraid I might drown her, and she would reassure me that she could drink it all and would not drown. She promised to suck me off more than once.

I wondered if it would be possible for anyone to cum twice, given the massive amount of sperm I could tell I was going to feed her the first time, but I was just a suck-object by then and I wandered around working, mind between my legs and in her mouth, waiting.

The night we finally got together, I sat naked, leaning against pillows and she crawled naked to me from the side, her head down the whole time, never making any pretense that she was going to do anything but suck my dick, and she did gobble it for me with a passion. I groaned, cried out at least once, my toes were flexing compulsively, and her mouth jacked me off like a machine, lips tight around my meat, hard so to grip my dick and get it the way she wanted it.

Something held me back -- she sucked for 45 minutes -- I was hesitant to unload such a mass of sperm into the mouth of a woman who had had such a sheltered life, and had only begun fucking regular a year before, only been blowing my toes, showing me her dirty mouth and talking dirty to me for a month. I could hardly believe she could handle what was going to come jetting into her naked mouth, and I warned her one last time: "I have never come anywhere near feeding any woman I've ever known the way I'm going to feed you. You are going to drink the largest load any woman in the country is going to drink tonight, and it won't be long. Don't let me down, drink it all and gulp it down good for me, ok?"

she nodded her head enthusiastically as she whipped her tight mouth up and down my bone, and then I felt the tiny twinge, deep back between my legs, and I told her that. I felt the twinge linger and then grow into a deeper feeling, the way it does at the best of times, and every change, I told her of them, and got excited repeating that I could not believe how much cum she was going to be fed. Felt so goddamned good to say that to her!

She kept gobbling and the feeling grew and spread through my entire crotch and back to my butthole, my balls drew up, my legs were thrashing, she was making desperate sounds as she dove and dove and dove onto me with that nice-girl mouth we were going to sully,

and then she took me over the line and I came like I imagine a horse must feel, a huge explosion the like of which I had never felt before and have never felt since. She never hesitated, never quit blowing me beautifully. I saw her cheeks swell out and saw her throat work as she swallowed, again and again, complete mouthfuls of my semen.

It took me 3 or 4 minutes to stop oozing, and ten minutes for the orgasm to end. She sucked me very gently the whole time, and when she could tell she had it all and I was overcome, she lay her head on my stomach and nursed on my dick for another 15 minutes, like a baby with a pacifier.

long time later, she knelt naked over me and we talked about it in detail. It was the lewdest thing I have ever heard or talked about in all my life.

I wish that experience on all of you, male and female. Write and tell me about it if you do it, or if you have already done it, ok?

I made a mistake with my last girlfriend. I should have asked her to marry me.
I could sleep when she was present. Only such woman since I can remember.
I was 20 years older than her, and thought that left us no chance, so she asked me one night if I wanted to stay with her and I wandered on alone. If I had only known how much I'd miss her and how vivid she remains to me, and how much I would continue to feel for her, I'd have been one one knee instantly.

She was red-headed. Her name was Ginger. We lived in Ohio. We went to grad school together. I don't know where she is now.

I seemed to get depressed sometime in 1998 or 99 and I wondered why, looking back. It took me forever to understand that it was losing her that changed things for me. I love the way she laughed. Loved watching her sit on the floor, dancing silently as she watched Teletubbies. Loved her taste in everything.

She turned over once when lying across my lap naked and let me see her tiny butthole, and she was snow white all the way inside of her. I didn't know there were any people like that.

She had a terrible scar near one collarbone where something had once pierced her.

She was from New York State somewhere. Went off to Kent State for library school around 1998 or 9 and I saw her once more from 100 yards away but she didn't want to meet with me so I let her go. Never to be forgotten.

Where do the little pussies put the giant dicks?

How many parents run across their kids on sex sites?

I heard that Ginger Lynn's father saw her on a video box cover when he visited a porn store in their home town. If the story is true and accurate, he went crazy, dangerous, seizing all the boxes with his famous daughter on them -- she was everywhere at the time -- and then setting out to find her and do away with those who had xxxxxx her to get busy in front of cameras.

Los Angeles was too large, and he had to return home with his unrequited rage. She heard about it and contacted her brother, who was so fascinated that he joined her out there, and eventually in bed.

Janey Robbins' husband allegedly killed himself, he was so conflicted by her porno career. I hope these were only allegations. Janey was such a nice woman. I never met Ginger.

Imagine the simplicity required for a happy marriage, complicated by a porn career! Marriage is dying out anyway, since daughters abandoned matriarchy around 1900.
Women marry men who remind them of their mothers.

Men who remind them of their fathers, they blow and sue, or murder.

When I went to my first dormitory room at Antioch College in the summer of 1971, I seemed to be the only person in the building. All quiet. Cool. Shadow hallway. My room spartan and clean.

I set down my belongings and went to the shower room. Stripped and walked back to the back shower head and turned it on. Shampooed my hair and was washing my face when two other showers suddenly came on.

Surprised, I washed the soap from my head and opened my eyes to find two naked women, washing their shiny breasts and hairy pussies and all else as they smiled at me.

Shocked, I thought I had gone into the women's shower room. I covered myself and apologized, averting my eyes.

"NO, SILLY!" one of them exclaimed, and both laughed gaily. "These are co-ed showers! This is Antioch."

One of the reasons Antiochians have, or had, a kinship is the frontier we shared. Interior frontier, as well. Could happen again, anywhere. Someone said how gone those times are, but someone elder said "remember what came right before the 1960s?" The unlivably elderly '50s. Only the hoods, the easy women, the gays, the addicts, the beats and some of the blacks were there.

I asked her one night where she would want to go if we did not stay where we were and she said "as far as possible from my family."

Becke was beckoning from Piedmont, CA, and there was that thing in California that seemed like freedom from a distance.

We crossed the country in a series of flashes, as far as I recall. A group of men met in the dark beside the salt lake, at a little drive-up diner that had its lights off, though it was doing bidness. I listened awhile, said a few things, then asked their patriarch what was their aim. "Rebellion" he said, in a voice that trembled with feeling.

On the salt flat between Wendover, Utah and Elko, Nevada, I dropped a box of 24 empty beer cans in a roadside bin and it swirled up through me: "Oh, WHY? should I ever LEAVE this place???!!! I feel as if my SOUL was born here!"

But there were two of me then, married as I was, and I could not pick for two and be one traveler.

We kept on.

The night we arrived at the stretch of highway between Sacramento and San Francisco, we got our first view of the California Traffic Plague, which was altogether worse than I had ever imagined. 90 miles, bumper to bumper, stop and go.

I took it as a harbinger, and pulled off to stand among some abandoned concrete chicken coop-bunkers and have my panic attack. Found out later it was the crowd heading for a Rolling Stones concert at Candlestick Park. That night, I thought the sea of vehicles was all there was.

Unable to change lanes, we were carried into San Francisco and I took the first exit we came to, into downtown SF, maybe the Mission District. Someone was on a mission? Some people truly needed a mission sent.

At a late-night hot dog cafeteria, I reached the cashier with my tray of exposed wieners (does anyone still call a dick a "weaver"?). As I did, a hand reached between me and the cashier holding a ten dollar bill, hand all hanging over my food. Horrible to note the purple lesions all over that hand, some of the lesions perforated somehow in their middle!

I jumped back to get clear of whatever it was on that hand, and left my tray where it was, exiting the site without paying. I had seen AIDS the day before the first article appeared in the SF paper: "area men dying of mystery disease." It was I think October of 1981.

The Germ Theory's Roswell.

I couldn't have known it then, but it was another warning, much louder, even, than the 90-mile traffic jam that was still passing above us slowly, like a wilful lava flow in the low sky.

I went to the car to report the hand and I writhed with revulsion. On the way to see Mick forgot how to move to his own music. Find film of him from 1965 and see for yourself.

Traffic was neglible heading back toward the East Bay -- negligee must mean 'almost nothing' -- does the root of the word also expand into the meanings of snow? la neige.

Nobody wanted to go there. It was like a rock to a rock lobster: 'home sweet home' to the soul under there, but still only a rock. The shark sees the shine coming from under it but already knows it can't eat through the rock to get at the shiny food.

The water moves over, under and around the rock and its lobster, but cannot stay. Must be on its way, to a degree we could never understand.

And on Oakland's main drag downtown -- Telegraph, I think -- I drove the little Pinto with the little overhead U-Haul containing all our belongings, down the huge thoroughfare, empty but for us when suddenly.

A big, silver pimpmobile came running alongside us and slowed to pace us. I looked at its driver and he looked to be a successful man with snowy white hair, a handsome face, lean and dressed in a somewhat silver suit. He was looking at me as if he was seeing a ghost.

To me, he seemed the ghost, apparition in silver, swooping on us from nowhere, and then he veered gently into our lane until he had cut us off and I was xxxxxx to stop our "car". Compared to his loot craft, I can't call what we had a "car". He stopped his xxxxx, diagonal with his front end preventing me from driving. He hopped out of his car and came hurriedly around the back end and up to my window.

I was a bit afraid and rolled up the glass til only an inch was left open. He checked us out, especially the U-Haul up-top, and I guess he had already gotten the load of our Ohio plates.

His eyes were as wide as a Babylonian king's. He asked, desperately, "Are you just GETTING here?!" I nodded 'yes', and if I was a pip, I would have squeaked.

When he heard me, his eyes almost bulged out of his head. He reared up and back, eyes and mouth agape as he received this news. Then he stared at me as if he had just heard from home and was relaying the evil to me.

"GO BACK!!!" he roared, standing in the middle of that big street. "YOU'VE MADE A MISTAKE!!!" he screamed. "GO BACK TO OHIO!!!" he reiterated, and he carried on like a dangerous man until I finally promised him I would immediately turn my piece of shit around and head back to Ohio, the moment I had alighted in Oakland.

I said what he wanted me to say, and somewhere around there, he left. I don't remember if he drove off or was gone in a puff of smoke or what he did, but I was alone with her then on that main drag we had crossed a continent to colonize. We must have discussed him at least briefly, but I don't remember a thing after promising him falsely.

What was he? Where were we, really?

Things continued odd for us as we rejected the voice of Fate again -- had heard it too on the salt flat just a day or so before. Off we spiraled, into the maelstrom. The hands with purple holes in them; the fried cocaine; the fucking for doubloons; the near-infinite traffic jams; the irrelevant angels.

She became famous and I faded away intensely. Snoring in the closet while other men climbed her body. She showed how good she looked a lot more, the further we got from her family. The police used to park across our street, 901 Rose on the edge of Piedmont, and watch every inch of her from behind mirror shades as she sunbathed on the very sidewalk.

Nobody else was using it. Nobody ever came out except to do violence or abandon cars.

Long time later, maybe the year 1999, I reached her by phone somehow, and asked her if she remembered our first drive through downtown Oakland.

She said "The man who warned us to go back?"

I said "So it did happen?"

She said "Oh yes."

I said "I think now he was right." She agreed, the both of us a bit too late.

I had a girl, Patty, who was 18 when I was 22. She was little, about 4'll" and 95 lbs, but had a very curvy figure and firm, round curves. She swallowed like a pro.

We loved to fuck so much, we blocked out the world so we could do nothing but fuck, eat, take walks, sip honey wine and fuck. We didn't make much money due to our lifestyle, but we found a woman who took us in and we shared a cot in her kitchen for about a month in the autumn of 1971, Berkeley, California. Her name was Devra from South Carolina, and she was built so good herself that I had to play with her wet slit one day when Patty was showering. Devra came.

Devra worked as a sexretary, dressed in suits, and one day when she came home from work, she found us, as always, fucking sweatily on our cot. She stood in the doorway and said "Fuck, fuck, fuck! That's all y'all ever do!!"

We didn't disagree. We fucked right in front of Debra all the time, real sensual and real hard, every position.

Should have included Devra.

One night she smiled in a funny way and invited us to attend a party with her.

We went to a ranch-style house in Alameda, California, right by Oakland, and it was a quiet, dim, elegantly-furnished home with a grand piano in one corner of the very large living room. The people were dressed beautifully, whereas Patty and I were in our hippy clothes, but Patty was rich, so she probably looked great. short short shorts with butt cheeks bulging out are always a fashionable look.

The other guests were older than us by about 10 years, and all were good-looking and in great shape.

I went in the kitchen to pour a glass of wine and a man brought a pretty woman in there into the bright light and soon he lifted the back of her raw silk, emerald green dress and began fucking her with the long neck of a wine bottle. She stood very upright in her high heels and thrust back her bottom and writhed and moaned while he did it to her with the bottle neck, right in front of me, a stranger. I was very surprised.

Patty and I were both taken aback soon when everyone else stripped each other off and began fucking in full view and eating pussy and sucking dick. All these sophisticated adults now acting the way Patty and I always acted in Devra's kitchen, on our little cot.

We huddled together almost under the piano and watched, didn't even strip, much less fuck, much less join the others. I don't recall how we left, but we found out later that we had just visited a "meeting" of the original Sexual Freedom League!!!

The SFL, as it was called the very occasional times you saw it mentioned in Playboy or Penthouse or the newspaper, had started in that very house with some of those very people. It was perhaps the first publicly-known, openly orgiastic organization of all. It had started maybe about 1965. By the time we visited it, coed bath houses were opening and the SFL didn't have long to go.

It was like finding yourself in City Lights Bookstore in 1955. I wish we had responded better, but it was a historic honor just to be invited and to have spent an evening with the SFL in the very house.

There was an original gay organization that 'came out' publicly in that period, too. It was called "The American Mattachine Society" and Patty and I also found ourselves in the midst of that in 1972. The SFL and American Mattachine Society came and went in a flicker, but they mattered a lot, and we were lucky to have walked into the midst of both like babes in some friendly woods.

For those who remember, Juliet Anderson was a Nordic beauty with very short hair who came to adult films relatively late, seeming to start in her 30s. Her other screen alias was "Aunt Peg".

She was unpretentious, as was her boyish haircut and her clothing, when she had any on. I saw her giving her body to Johnny keyes and that was the first really naughty-seeming interracial film I remember seeing. I'm sure there were others, but Keyes was so black, and Juliet so Nordic. Pink mouth sliding up and down ebony shaft. He did have a bone for her, and she was on it like a pretty dog.

Seka was reigning Scandinavian queen at that time, making the maximum wage for adult film actresses to that point: $2500 a day, one day meaning any appearance, however brief. They did trade in "half days" too, though.

Juliet was always sexy, always giving herself to the men they put her with, and really, when I studied her face alongside Seka's, I thought Juliet was more the classic beauty. It was just that she de-emphasized her looks, somehow.

Beauties came and went, but Juliet stayed a long while.

One day, out driving in the fashionable Piedmont section of hilltop Oakland, CA (former head of Hitler's SS lived there at the time, though that wasn't known until much later!), I saw Juliet jogging in sweats. I wondered how many other people in passing cars recognized her.

Several years later, we heard that she was retiring, and was having a party at her apartment. Which turned out to be near ours, and we went.

Being addicts, we showed up very late. Everyone had come and gone, and there was no one in her apartment except her. The door stood open and the place had been stripped bare. She had sold most of her possessions. My wife and I went in and since there were no places to sit, we three stood by her kitchen sink and talked for awhile. I took advantage of the opportunity to tell her how I had followed her career as a great admirer for a long time. I told her what a pleasure I felt to meet her, and in her own apartment!

She was gracious and informal. My wife was a caring person, and somehow, after half an hour with Juliet at the end of her career, we all embraced, and she cried for the time that was ending, as we held her.

I met Candy Samples once, at the end of her career, when she briefly brought that super body and face from R- into X-rated porn at last.

She was distant, though sitting in the living room of the film's mansion site wearing nothing but a bustier, garter belt and stockings. She was wholly involved in applying her makeup when I introduced myself. She didn't even glance at me, nor say a word.

I told her "I know you have a stage act. I have an introduction for you: 'Ladies and gentlemen, here they are: Candy Samples!'"

Then she very briefly met my eyes, made an approving face, and said "That's good."

Hopefully, she used it. I'd love to feel used by Candy Samples.