Chapter 1
TEACH ME, TEACHER....
I can't remember how many young wives, teenagers, divorcees, old maids and just plain women I've laid in the past ten years, but I'd say it's well past the 3,000 mark. And, of course, that doesn't include the times I've been trade, or any of those abnormal side trips.
The trouble is I can't get enough of women. They drive me up the walls. It's an obsession! A head shirinker once told me it was a sickness known as satyriasis. I looked it up and the definition is "excessive and uncontrollable sexual desires in a man." I got it all right and it looks like I'm stuck with it.
That first summer I went off to camp ... at the early age of ten ... I discovered I was different from the rest of the guys my age. For one thing, I was more developed than the rest of them. In size I compared to some of the camp counsellors, who were nineteen and twenty. That is how I came by the nickname "The Snake". For another thing, I knew a helluva lot more about sex than was normal for a boy my age. I should have. Since I can remember, I was always reading everything I could get my hands on ... everything forbidden that is. Between the ages of eight and twelve, I had this recurring dream about older women fondling and playing with my joint.
Without fail, I had a wet dream every night, sometimes two and three times a night. You can imagine how confused I was as a kid, and until I went off to camp and started associating with a lot of other boys, I kept everything to myself.
It's normal for a boy of ten to be curious about girls and sex, but me, I was abnormally advanced for my age. I was the center attraction at camp that summer, especially in the shower stalls. Naturally, I was admired by the other boys and they looked up to me in awe. I used to get a charge out of sitting around a campfire at night and making up a lot of stories about my experiences with girls that shocked the bejesus out of them. Poor little bastards. I really gave them feelings of inferiority that probably damaged their manhood for years to come.
I didn't realize it then, but I was the one that was getting damaged. Those kids really gave me a he-man complex that I still haven't been able to overcome. I was King Kong to those kids and ever since then, I've worked my head off to give that impression to every female I encountered.
For the record, my name is Archer Nelson. That's not my real name, but it's the one I use a lot professionally. I'm twenty-six years old, stand six feet two inches, and weigh in at pounds, stripped. By descent I'm Greek, and you know what they say about the Greeks. There's nothing more dangerous than a Greek in sneakers. Bank the corners of the room and a Greek will give you a helluva chase every time.
I come from a little town about a hundred and fifty miles north of San Francisco. I can't give you the name of the town because my story involves a lot of people I'm going to tell you all about, who might be identified and consequently hurt by it. So for the sake of reference I'll call it Richfield. My father worked in a fish cannery there. That's where I was raised and where I went to school. I got as far as my junior year in high school and then I was expelled for making an obscene overture to one of my teachers, who had been keeping me after school all the time.
One afternoon I finally got her message. She was a frustrated young broad, who was starved for a man. I could tell by the way she walked, as if she was going to drop something and lose it. So I said to her one day, "What's eating you, Miss B-? I mean, what do you want from me?"
She was seated at her desk, and I stood in front of the desk facing her. She looked up at me, blinking those beady eyes of hers like she always did, and biting nervously on her lower lip. "I want you to start applying yourself, Archer," she announced. "You're a bright boy ... with a good appearance. There's no excuse for you to have the lowest average in my class. If you'd just apply yourself more."
"I'll apply myself, Miss B-," I assured her. "I'll apply myself right into you. Would you like that?"
"What? What was that you said?" She heard me all right, but she was thrown for an answer. Her eyes kept stealing glances at my basket.
I thought to myself, calm her down and give her what she wants. So I unzipped my fly, pulled out my joint and flapped it on her desk. "Is this what you want, Miss B-?" I asked. "It's yours for the asking."
She dropped her glasses and gasped. I thought she was going to choke to death right there. Her mouth was opened and her eyes looked like they were going to pop right out of her head. I crossed around to her, my joint dangling in full view, and tried to slap her on the back. She swiveled to one side in her chair and doubled over while coughing. For an instant, her lips were inches away from the head of my joint. Whether this was intentional or not, I don't know, but I'll bet it was. She wasn't blind! The tip of her tongue was hanging out and brushed over my head. Naturally the damn thing started to grow rigid. I placed my hands on the back of her neck and started to force her head forward. That's when the bitch started screaming bloody murder.
So, what the hell! I wasn't any good in school anyway. At least I wasn't learning anything. I guess I was too preoccupied with sex. The only other thing I ever showed any interest in was painting. At first, I started by drawing dirty pictures of men plowing into women, and then I got interested in anatomy and started perfecting nudes.
There was this writer who lived in Richfield. His name was Odell Brown. He wrote some pretty sensational stuff. I guess I've read everything he ever wrote. He's pretty famous. When I was in grade school, I was truant for about a week. My father wasn't working then. He was drunk all the time, and beating up my Ma. Anyway, about that time I got Odell Brown as a Big Brother, and we've been friends ever since. Odell took an interest in me and encouraged me to keep on with my painting. Odell was somebody I could always talk to. I knew he would level with me. Whatever good I have in me is a result of Odell's influence. He praised my eagerness to read, which made me read all the more. Odell said that reading in itself was an education-reading and travel. I always wanted to speak well and be knowledgeable about life. All this I got from Odell.
Whenever I was in trouble, the first person I went to was Big Brother himself. He was a bachelor in those days, and he seemed to understand, even when I was in the wrong. The day I got expelled ... Odell and I stayed up half the night talking about it. He said I had too many strikes against me in Richfield and suggested I go to San Francisco, where I wouldn't be confined, where I would be free to discover myself. He said he would sponsor me, if I would go there and study painting.
Two days later I was on the bus headed for San Francisco, determined that my life would now be dedicated to art. Two stops out of Richfield, an attractive looking dish ... a blond ... got on and my dedication vanished. Well, I said to myself, at least she'll help me pass the time, and it might even been amusing to find out if I could score with her. It would soon be dark, I reasoned, and with the lights out, the bus was as good a place as any. I'm a nut, I know, but like I said, women-any kind-turn me on. I have no preference of type. This one, however, was young and eager.
The seat next to me was empty, and as she came up the aisle I gave her a keen, inviting look.
"Is this seat occupied?" she asked demurely. Man alive was she eager!
"No," I replied and then turned to stare out the window without speaking. Then, when I felt the time was right, I offered her a cigarette and asked "Are you going far?"
"To San Francisco," she stated, taking a long drag on her cigarette.
"Hey, so am I. Are you from Frisco?"
"No. This will be my first trip," she explained. "I'm going there to get married."
She blushed and I knew this was a challenge I couldn't pass up. She had firm little breasts, large soulful eyes and baby lips that were just asking for it. It turned out she was eighteen years old. Her name was Angela, and this was the first time she had been out of her hometown on her own. We talked for a while about this and that until it grew dark and I was able to make my first move, first by placing my hand over hers, then letting it come to rest gently upon her knee. If she was startled or shocked, she didn't show it.
About that time the bus lights came on, and I offered her a blanket, even though it wasn't chilly. She was a smart little girl. She caught on quickly.
She draped the blanket over her lap and I was able to slip my hand underneath it and continue my exploring. For a while my fingers played upon her thighs, stroking them, massaging them, working up underneath her skirt. She did nothing. She just relaxed and pretended to doze off. Not until my fingers started tugging at her panties did she tense up. I could feel the muscles in her legs stiffen. She opened her eyes and turned to glance at me sort of pleadingly. I didn't know whether she was pleading for me to stop or to keep going. When in doubt, I always say, keep going.
She eased up slightly off her seat and I was able to pull her panties off her hips and get them down to her knees. From there on, she was able to work them down to her ankles and step out of them. Now the field was free and clear for a real finger-play session. For about twenty minutes I tantalized her until I thought she was going to squirm right out of her seat.
An old lady in the seat across the aisle began to get curious and I had to stop. I pulled my hand away and turned to face front in my chair. Nothing was said until I heard her crying softly.
"What's the matter?" I whispered.
"Why did I let you do that?" she whimpered. "I ... I don't know what came over me."
"It wasn't your fault, honey. I just got carried away. I couldn't control myself and I took advantage of you, I'm afraid."
"Yes, and I let you," she sighed.
"Sometimes these things just happen," I offered.
"Not to me, not like this ... with someone I've only known for a couple of hours."
"That's a funny thing, Angela. Time means nothing when something like this happens."
"Like what happens?" She was looking at me wide-eyed, ready to fall for any line I dished out.
"The first time I looked at you, I knew you were the type of girl I could love." I reached for her hand and clasped it between mine. "I want you so bad, Angela, I hurt all over. If I could just love you ... love you the right way. This damn bus ... all these people ... make it impossible."
She turned away from me and stared out the window. Then in a voice that was almost inaudible, she admitted, "I want you too."
"If only there was some way," I sighed.
"There isn't," the girl said. 'And even if there was, it wouldn't be right. I mean, I'm on my way to San Francisco to be married. There's a boy there, waiting for me."
I looked at her, my eyes filled with sadness, although I was enjoying myself enormously. "If only I had met you first, things might have been different."
About that time, I noticed the bus was slowing down as it pulled off the highway into a filling station and restaurant. Then the bus driver announced a one hour rest stop for dinner. Angela and I exchanged glances. We were each thinking the same thing. We got up and left the bus along with the other passengers.
Once we were off the bus, Angela stopped short and started to turn back. "What is it?" I asked.
"My panties," she whispered. "I forgot them."
"Where are they?"
"On the bus ... underneath my seat."
"Forget it. Leave them there. Nobody but you and me will know the difference." As I spoke I noticed there was a row of cabins in back of the restaurant. It was a perfect set up. We had exactly one hour. "Look, I said ... soon you're going to be married and I may never see you again. But I know one thing, Angela, I'll never forget you. Can't we steal one hour of happiness together?" She was taking it all in. I almost laughed in her face. Women are so gullible, sometimes.
Her remark was priceless. "You mean ... just passing strangers in the night?"
I had a hard time holding a straight face on that one. "Yes, my darling."
Angela wilted in my arms. "Do you think they would believe us, if we told them we were man and wife?"
"Leave it to me."
While I made arrangements for a cabin, Angela ordered a couple of cheeseburgers, a beer for me and a coffee for her, to go. I was at the cabin door waiting for her as she came running around the side of the restaurant with a sack of food. "Over here," I waved to her. "Cabin four!"
I had no sooner closed the door to the cabin than Angela locked her arms around my neck. She couldn't wait. She pressed her lips to mine, her tongue darted out and explored the inside of my mouth. I decided she wasn't all that innocent. Her breath was hot. Her body squirmed against mine. Boy, did she want it. I didn't even get a chance to take a bite out of my cheeseburger or sip my beer. She was all over me, groping, squeezing, clawing at my clothes.
"Okay, honey ... okay. We got almost an hour. There's plenty of time." I discovered a long time ago, the more you put them off, the hotter they get.
She had a beautiful little body. She was worth all the trouble and more. She dropped her dress to the floor and I nearly jumped out of my skin at the-sight of her standing before me wearing only her brassiere, garter-belt and hose. My mouth watered as I stepped back and gazed upon her. She was an exhibitionist at heart. With a real sense of showmanship, she unhooked her bra, peeled it off and proudly exposed her firm, upright little breasts. They were like ripe pink grapefruit. Then she lifted each of her well-shaped legs, one at a time, to rest each foot on the arm of a chair in order to roll down her stockings. With a final flourish, she ripped off her garter belt and twirled about on her toes, revealing to me all of delicious nakedness, including the delicate, well-rounded mounds of her buttocks. She was indeed a tasty morsel. I forgot all about my beer and cheeseburger. I could have eaten her alive.
"Now it's your turn," she said as she ran and leaped upon the bed. She sat cross-legged, her eyes glued upon me like an eager, enchanted child waiting for the circus parade.
I, too, am a bit of an exhibitionist. I might as well admit it. I get such a charge out of revealing myself to women. They're always so sure of themselves and their bodily charms, until they get an eyeful of my weapon. The size of it never fails to startle them and they get a doubtful, almost fearful look in their eyes. That pleases the hell out of me.
I joined her on the bed stark naked and instantly she was all over me, her warm, wet lips on mine, her delicate tongue sucking and probing. We were both thrown off balance by Angela's charging force and we fell backwards on the bed to an irritating squeak of the bed springs. She was on top of me now, but I managed to clutch her cute little breasts, massaging her cherry-sized nipples with my thumbs until the peaks hardened and throbbed.
My tongue was still entwined with hers as I moved one hand off her breast and down to her curving thighs that were already aching and on fire. Boldly I began to stroke, exploring and probing between her legs. She reacted by biting lightly on my thick tongue that was stabbing her lips.
As I continued my probe and fondled her, she squirmed over me, nibbling on my ear lobes, my neck and eventually chewed on one of my nipples until it was red and raw. I felt sorry for the bastard she was going to marry. Within a week, she would have all of him chewed to bits.
She started to work her head down between my legs, fully intending to chew off my enthusiasm. I couldn't have that. "No, you don't." I chuckled, as I lifted her off me.
Angela moaned as she rolled over beside me and arched her back and spread her shapely legs like the wings of an eagle. Hovering over her, I lifted her legs over my shoulders and plunged downward into the damp forest. With my initial thrust, Angela cried out. All women do. Whenever I sock it into them for the first time, they scream and make like virgins. Angela pressed her hands against my chest and tried to force me off of her.
"No, please," she moaned. "You're hurting me. I can't take it."
Once I got in there, nobody, but nobody deters me for a single moment. If I have to be cruel, then I'm cruel. There's a time to be rough. This was a time to get rough. I pressed my right forearm cruelly across her breasts and squeezed her shoulder so hard with my fingers she winced in pain. Pressing and forcing myself against the resilient flesh below me, I slowly increased the speed of my piston rod ... I love that term ... until her body began to move convulsively in rhythm with mine. With a gasping groan, she reared her buttocks with all her might, lifting my weight higher. She met my invasion admirably.
Oh, brother, what a feeling of blissful relief and joy that was. A passionate act sweeps away all my tension and nerves.
Grinding and rolling together, we stubbornly held our lips together, sucking and swallowing until we were both completely breathless and saturated. Time was running out on us and I could not prolong the sensation any longer.
I banged my bulk against her unmercifully. There was a mutual shuddering contraction of twisting muscles as our heaving, sweating bodies battered each other. Recklessly, rapidly, our flaming ecstasy rose toward the peak of fulfillment. Star shells bursting, shattering the heavens, destroying the private darkness, two strangers did indeed meet in the night-head on and wham! Then, we pulled apart in a state of panic and beat our asses back to the bus as it was pulling out of the service station.
Well, that's the way it goes, if you're a guy like me, who has to get himself serviced regularly on a daily basis.
The aftermath is always a headache.
Back on the bus, Angela's conscience caught up to her and she began to bawl like a baby.
"Knock it off, sweetheart," I said. "What will people think?"
"I can't help it," she sobbed. "I'm in love with you. How can I marry somebody else now?"
"Baby, that's the way it goes. We've had our kicks, now you have an obligation to perform."
"What about you?"
"Me, too, honey. I didn't tell you before, but I'm married."
She started bellowing louder than before. All the people on the bus were looking at us. "Oh, Archer, how could you?"
"The same way you could."
"Do you love her?"
"No, but I don't want to hurt her. That boy waiting for you in Frisco, do you want to wreck his life?"
"No, but...."
"Like you said, honey ... we were strangers in the night."
"I love that song, don't you?"
"Yea, it's a great tune."
"Whenever I hear it now, I will always think of us."
"You do that."
"I'll bet you think of me as a cheap pick-up."
"No, Angela, I don't think that."
"Promise you'll remember me, Archer."
"I'll never forget you, baby." And under my hat I was thinking...."until the next one."