Chapter 1
David pulled one of my bikini top strings as he followed me into my folks' modern beach apartment. I felt the tug, the slip of the bow knot and the loosening of the green nylon cups on my breasts.
I put my right arm across my chest to hold up the halter. "Oh, David, for God's sake!" I turned and disgustedly shut the apartment door. I pressed the lock button just in case. I knew he wanted to make out and I wasn't sure I didn't want to. I took off my round sunglasses and tossed them on the sofa. I zipped my door key back into the little pocket in my bikini.
David smirked. He had seen the lock business. He put a big sweaty hand on my belly and tried to draw me close for a kiss.
I brushed strands of my long blonde hair away from my face and let it happen. Why not? I like kissing and he wasn't bad. But I didn't like his whole approach to sex. For a twenty-six-year-old senior in Engineering at USC he acted too much like a sniggering, dirty-minded little boy.
He had to hunch over slightly to kiss me because he's six feet and I'm only five feet four. But it was a good kiss. David has full lips and he knows how to keep them open and loose and moving softly on a girl's mouth. And he has the courtesy to keep his eyes closed. AND he knows how to use his tongue!
Funny squiggly shivers go through me when I'm kissed that way. It turns me on faster than anything.
I went up on my toes and tightened my left arm around him. Then I didn't give a damn anymore and put my right arm around him, too. My breasts felt loose and free. The halter slipped down a little.
Dave kept on kissing me, fluttering his tongue in my mouth, making me moan. One of his hands moved around to my front.
His hands are big and his palms always seemed to get clammy when he sexed up with me. His hands pushed my halter out of the way and fondled my smallish breasts. I'm not built like a cow, but I've got enough to make a good dent in a 34-B bra.
He started playing with my nipples. I instinctively pressed closer to him and his hand was caught, imprisoned between our bodies. He pulled it free and cupped his hands on my rump and pulled me tight against him down there.
He had a big erection and he wanted me to know it. I knew it all right! I could feel it through his blue trunks against my belly.
I pulled my mouth free of his lips and tongue. "Don't get your hopes up. I only came back up here for a quick shower."
"Why'd you let me feel you, then? It's been a couple weeks since we did anything."
I pushed away from his not-quite-pudgy body. He reluctantly let me go. I liked David well enough, but he was so square! You know: crew-cut dark-blonde hair, and he dressed up to the playboy hilt all the time. We both had groovy tans.
I didn't answer him. I went over close to the big front window and peeked out from the side at the wide Venice beach. I saw my mother and dad where David and I had left them sitting in beach chairs out by the water.
David came around behind me and hugged me. His fingers tried to worm into my bikini bottom. He said wheedlingly, "Come on ... you like it as much as I do...."
Which was true, but I didn't like him telling me so. I twisted away and said, "I'm taking a shower!" I threw my halter at him and dashed into the bathroom. I locked the door. I turned the water on. It took about thirty seconds to get hot. I stepped out of my bikini and rinsed it in the warming spray. Then I gathered my hair and pinned it up.
I looked at myself in the sliding medicine cabinet mirror. I'm nineteen years old and I look a satisfactory sixteen or so. I have straight hair that reaches past my shoulder blades, except it's naturally brown and I had to dye it all the time. But half the college girls I knew dyed, too. Blonde! All God's chillun gotta be blonde! My shade was Wild Honey.
I brushed a few grains of sand from my shoulders. Nice even tan. Not quite all over. My breasts were horizontal ovals of white skin, sort of saggy. Not pendulous, you know, but ... I made a face at them in the mirror.
I'm not a raving beauty. I'm low-waisted, thick-hipped and sort of stumpy in the legs. And I'm about five pounds over what I should be.
I adjusted the hot shower spray and stepped in.
A warm shower makes me feel sexy. Maybe it's having my hands all over myself, sliding soapily over my breasts ... over my brown-curled mound, up my inner thighs ... I guess I'm monoerotic too.
I hummed one of my songs as I soaped.
I started playing with my breasts. My nipples were out as far as they could go ... little red wrinkled cones ... and tiny hot tickles made me feel more sexy as I rubbed my soapy palms over them.
I was beginning to dig the idea of making it with David. He had a layer of fat on him-there was a half roll of flesh above his bathing trunks' waistband-but he was in good enough condition when it came to making love. At least he didn't stick it in and go off two seconds later the way some girls say their men do.
David always lasted long enough for me to come at least once. Sometimes twice.
I leaned back against the warm tiles and let the water beat on my breasts and belly as I pressed a finger into myself down there between my thighs. I played with my clitoris. After a few seconds of that I was sure I was going to let David make love to me.
I rinsed the soap all off me, turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I grabbed one of mother's big, imagine fringed towels and dried myself. I let my hair down, shook it out and ran her ivory-and-aluminum comb through it a couple of times.
Then I held the towel on my front, unlocked and opened the bathroom door an inch, held the towel with both hands and nudged the door open further with my right foot.
David was sitting by the window, looking out. His erection had gone down. I said, "It's all yours if you want to use it."
"The towel?"
"The bathroom!" I backed modestly toward my bedroom.
He smiled that evil smile of his, came toward me and made a grab for the towel. I squealed and ran the remaining few feet into my room. I let him see my naked rump and back. I knew he'd follow me in. He did.
I said, "You stink! You can just forget every dirty thing you've got on your mind unless you take a shower first."
He grinned. "It's a deal!" He was getting that big erection again. He turned right around and headed for the bathroom. I giggled.
David came out of the bathroom five minutes later, naked, dripping water. "Hey, can I use your towel?" He walked into my room, grinning.
"Sure." I tossed it at him.
"Want to dry me?"
"I'm not your slave." I watched him rub. He was getting big again. I sat up on my bed and clasped my knees to my breasts. "David, can you feel the blood go into your penis when it's growing like that?"
He was suddenly modest. He turned away so I couldn't see it. "Jesus, what a question!" He bent over to dry his hairy legs.
"Well, can you?"
He scowled. "No. You ask the damnedest questions!" He turned farther to dry his thick patch of dark-blonde pubic hair. He was very mature, physically.
I shrugged. He always got embarrassed when I showed any real interest in his genitals. He liked to show off and use them, but I don't think he thought it was nice to talk about them.
He finished drying himself and stretched out beside me on his side.
I uncoiled and lay flat on my back. I turned my head and watched him. He reached over and started plucking at my nipples. I saw his penis get large. It hung out from his groin like a smooth ear of corn. It jumped slightly every second with his heartbeat. I was fascinated.
David saw where my gaze was and leaned over further to kiss me. I sighed when his tongue entered my mouth. His right hand was on my left breast, squeezing, molding, pinching the nipple gently.
When I'm turned on sexually I can't stay still. It's like I've got all this sexual energy building up in me and it partly shows itself in small, restless stirrings.
I reached with my right hand and touched David's penis. It was hot! and hard! I could hardly get my fingers around it.
He stopped kissing me and said huskily, "You're sure curious about it."
"I don't stop you from touching me."
"That's different. Girls aren't supposed to be...." He frowned. He couldn't say what he meant ... or didn't want to. Then he smiled his dirty smile. "If you're a nympho why don't you suck it for me?"
"Is that what you think I am? A nymphomaniac? Just because I'm curious?"
He backed off. "No ... of course not ... it's just the way you get all hot and bothered ... all wild and crazy when you make it. You do everything but fly apart when you come."
I said coolly, "Is that a crime?" He had touched a nerve. I couldn't hold back when he was pounding his big thing in and out of me. I did go kind of crazy. And it bothered me that I enjoyed it so much because all the other girls I'd talked to didn't admit liking sex that much or having climaxes that intense. And mother-she didn't like sex at all! So I secretly felt like some kind of freak ... ashamed and guilty.
David said, "No ... I guess you're lucky. But I would like you to do it ... suck me. Just for a minute."
I looked down at his penis still in my hand, throbbing with blood. The head of it was pretty big. I wasn't sure I could get it into my mouth. ... if I decided to try it.
I licked my lips. I said, "Nope." I was curious what it would be like to do it, but ... not with David. "I don't like you well enough."
"Huh? You've let me fu-make love to you six times."
"That's different."
"Have you done it for any other guy."
"That's none of your business." I smiled just' to get his goat.
He actually pouted.
I brushed his crew cut with my other hand. "Maybe some day I will." I had a thought. "Why don't you go down on me?"
His face changed subtly, like he was hiding fear and disgust. "Not my style, I guess I'm old-fashioned. Besides, if you won't do it why should I?"
"Maybe I will ... if you will."
He looked at me. He swallowed. He shook his head. "I guess I'm old-fashioned." He put his hand on my mound. He smiled weakly. "You get enough kicks as it is." He kissed me again. We closed our eyes.
I let him go ahead in spite of being mad at him.
I began pumping his penis with long, slow strokes. I gripped him tightly. His tongue came deep into my mouth. I fenced with him. He pressed his middle finger into me down there and discovered I was slippery and ready. He pushed his finger deep. My hips pushed against it. His finger withdrew and began sliding wetly over my clitoris. I inhaled sharply. God, it felt good!
After a few minutes my hand began to pump him faster and faster. He had to stop me. His breathing was erratic. He pulled his mouth away. I opened my eyes. I was hungry for air. I had to breathe with my mouth open.
My insides were weak and syrupy, charged with want. I whispered, "Put it in."
David moved over me, a huge bulk of man, and held himself up off me with one thick arm as he peered down between our bodies and tried to guide himself into me.
I lay with my knees up and wide and held myself open with both hands, trembling inside, waiting, a little afraid of that first massive penetration. He didn't go in slowly: he liked to push it all in fast. The first time it had hurt.
I felt him poking around. I breathed, "Lower...."
The head of his penis pushed inside. He sighed and let his weight down on me as he drove deep. I gasped. My thighs reflexively closed to keep him from thrusting it all in. He gave a satisfied little grunt and pulled back a little. He plunged again. Little by little I relaxed my thighs, let them open further and further, and felt him pushing deeper and deeper into me.
There's something weird in feeling a big penis that far in. It scares you a little; you feel the size, the pressure inside and a funny kind of pleasure that's different from the clitoral sensation. It's a kind of total involvement pleasure, a body-knowledge that you're being a woman! And it's part pride, part a feeling of power, part astonishment that you're actually taking all that!
He was heavy on me, pressing me down into the bed, covering me with his sweaty, pudgy body. It was hard to breathe. I was helpless but I didn't care. I loved the incredible jolting sparkle of sensation that broke through me with each lunge he made. I braced my feet on the bed and thrust up to take him as he plunged. Lord, the feel of him going in like that, stretching me the last inch, grinding it in, then pulling out almost all the way, then slamming back in!
I started to come after about a minute. I was panting like crazy, working my hips, making little whining noises, holding him, digging my fingernails into his shoulders, blind with my eyes open, boiling inside like a special kind of volcano.
I went crazy and didn't care ... couldn't care! The things I said..."Oh, God ... oh, fuck me!" And I found his open, wet mouth, gasping with effort, and kissed him ... just merged my mouth to his ... and had to tear it away for air! Air! I was somewhere in heaven, burning, floating, exploding all at once, moaning and going out of my skull it was so good.
Then the sensation sharpened, like a pain almost, but good, and not so strong or I couldn't have stood it, and started to fade out and glow in me, all over, even while David was still slamming into me, not a numbness, just a sort of emptying of the nerves so that another sex charge could be built up.
David's weight became oppressive. Little hurts and irritations came into existence for me with the exhaustion of my pleasure. He was really laboring on me, rasping air in and out of his lungs, eyes closed, splotched in the face and chest, sweat running on him ... on me ... his hips rubbing abrasively on my inner thighs....
He started to get a shaky edge to his breathing, and he began to thrust into me a little faster, a little harder. He was making it. He gasped, "Jesus ... " His breathing came faster and faster.
I could actually feel him getting bigger and harder in me. His full weight came down on my chest as he gripped my shoulders tight ... tight ... . and he jolted into me with big, fast, long plunges.
I was beginning to sparkle again but I knew I wouldn't have time to make it again. He was there! He gave a kind of pain cry and went uncoordinated, gasping, spurting into me.
And thank you, Dad, for making Mother take me to Dr. Grainger last year and getting me those Enovid prescriptions! I don't mind itching a little or feeling dizzy once in a while as side effects.
David sighed deeply and buried his face in the bedspread next to my head. He sighed again.
I let him rest on me for a long minute. I could hear the ticking of his Gruen near my right ear. I said, finally, "Can you reach the towel without pulling out?"
"I think so." He reached back over the edge of the bed. He brought up the towel. I could feel him getting soft inside.
I took the towel and said, "Raise up." I slipped it under my rump. "Okay, now you can get off."
"I could do it again in a few minutes."
"So could I but we've been here long enough. They'll get suspicious." I pushed at him. "Off! You weigh a ton."
He got up on his knees. I held the towel tight against myself down there and carefully got off the bed. I went into the bathroom.
Five minutes later we were trudging across the hot, littered sand toward my mother and dad. Venice beach is endlessly wide, especially when the sand is burning your feet. The sun had almost all day to heat each little grain.
I saw a group of people-hippies, I supposed-sitting in a circle on the sand about a quarter mile north of us toward P.O.P. pier. There were colorful banners and flags flying from a pole and crosspole stuck in the sand in their group. The wind carried music from them ... . drumbeats and maybe a guitar as they sang. I couldn't make out the words.
David asked, "Hey, you want to see a movie tonight?"
"Maybe." I watched the hippie group. They were clapping and a chick was now dancing to the music. It looked like they were having a groovy time.
Mother looked around as David and I approached. Dad had abandoned his beach chair and was lying face down on his woven beach mat. He looked up, squinted, smiled lopsidedly and lowered his gray head again. He had gotten a pretty fair tan in the week and a half we had been in Venice on his vacation. His skin glistened with Coppertone.
Mother looked disapprovingly at my wet bikini. I had rinsed the halter free of clinging sand in the shower, too, and the sun hadn't yet dried the thin, green nylon. It clung too closely to my breasts to suit her. My nipples were showing. If David hadn't been present she would have chewed me out about immodesty and making an exhibit of myself. As it was she said, "You two were gone forty minutes." It was part suspicion, part accusation.
I said, "David took a shower, too." I smiled at her.
She firmed her lips and the tiny grooves in her upper lip showed. She was only forty-one but she had let herself go. She wore a stupid, tight, black, one-piece swimsuit that showed every pound of her fat. The lightly tanned flesh was pushed out in bulges that accented her sloppy, pendulous breasts and doughy, blue-veined legs. She wore a wide, floppy-brimmed white hat and ornate, prescription sunglasses.
She is a bit shorter than I am, has a puffy double chin, and her hair dyed to hide increasing numbers of gray hairs.
I looked at her and I saw myself in twenty years if I didn't watch my diet. She was repulsive.
Dad said, "Think I'll take another swim. Good for the old ticker." He thumped his thick chest.
It was a signal for mother or myself to say, "Oh, you don't have to worry about your heart. You're in perfect shape." And he is. Dad keeps trim with regular sessions of swimming, squash, golf and tennis. He's a stocky man, forty-six, prematurely gray, and terribly afraid of death. But he didn't nag mother about her excess weight and awful nutrition. I think he secretly wanted her to develop some fatal degenerative disease. But that was before they separated and he filed for divorce.
But neither of us said the words that time, and he said after a pause, "Want to join me? Juli? David?"
David said, "No, thank you, Mr. Lund."
I shook my head. I sat on his beach mat and looked briefly over toward the hippies. The girl was still dancing. It looked like she was colored, but I wasn't sure.
Dad said, "Younger generation!" He smiled and his laugh-lines crinkled nicely.
As Dad started running toward the surf, David called, "Watch out for sharks, sir!"
Mother waited until Dad was in the water before she sighed and struggled out of her chair. She wheezed as she bent to pick up her bag. She said, with elaborate casualness, "It's just too hot out here for me. I think I'll go in now. Tell Robert, Juli."
"Yes, I will." I put a little extra emphasis on will. I knew she was going in to start her drinking. She knew I knew it, too.
She glared at me. David couldn't see the look. Then she moved slowly away toward the Ocean Front Walk and the big white-brick building where we were staying.
I watched Dad plunge through the surf. David asked, "You want to go see the new Bond picture at the Crest?"
"I'm sick of those things ... and all the imitations."
"What do you want to do tonight, then?"
"Right now I want to go over there, listen to the music and watch that girl dance."
"Where?" He looked in the direction I was pointing. "You mean those hippies or whatever they are?" He was contemptuous.
"Yes, those hippies!" I wanted to meet them and ask them questions. They fascinated me. I stood up and walked toward the surf.
David asked, "You going in?"
I ignored him. I waded out to knee-deep water and waved at Dad. He was facing the incoming waves in water to his chest. He bounced and bobbed, arms wide. When a wave came in he bounced up to meet it and slowly moved out farther.
I called, "Dad!"
He turned and raised his arm, beckoning me toward him. He grinned. "It's great! Come on in!"
"Mother went back to the apartment! I'm going to walk down the beach!"
He nodded and smiled. A wave nearly smothered him.
I smiled, waved and waded into shore. I headed toward the group of hippies. David got up from Dad's chair and caught up with me. "Hey, what's the matter? You mad at me?"
"No." I kept on walking. The sand was really scorching hot! "I didn't think you'd want to come along."
"Well, I'm not going to let you go over there alone."
"Oh, David!" The truth was he didn't want to be left alone. He thought of himself as my "steady" with obligations and rights. He had driven out all the way from Pasadena that morning to spend the day with me.