The rest of the summer, of 1963, was a blur. We played two great gigs in Jacksonville with a group that called themselves, Mid Life Crisis. Our exposure to larger venues was expanding and we were steadily entertaining offers for concert openings for big name performers who played in this part of the state. Marie and Dennis were getting name recognition and I was getting a lot of studio work in Daytona, doing commercials and other recording. Not really needing the money, it was difficult for me to stay focused on steady employment but I worked hard to help my friends get the push they needed to get into the industry.
Our friend from Cypress Studios, connected Marie and Dennis up with a tour group working state fairs and they went on the road with the group several times, giving me time to explore the video production genre with greater intensity.
Camille had, if fact, become pregnant. Of coarse, she's been getting sick now and she's a little bitchy, but I guess that's part of the game. The baby was expected sometime in March. She and Louise were in a trance making plans for the upcoming blessed event. Camille has finished her renovations on her offices and has done some legwork and is doing some freelance design work for a big contractor buddy of our dad's, out of New Smyrna Beach. I felt good about Camille's situation and I guess I was also excited about the kid coming.
Louise encouraged Camille to legally change her name to Ellis, to protect the child. I tried to tell Louise she should also have her last name changed but she resisted saying she was too old to change now. I asked her to marry me and I got the 'too old' routine again. Hell, she's only forty-one years older than I am, go figure.
I bought the big Hammond B-3 studio organ from the guy in Jacksonville. Gerald and I nearly ruined our selves moving it down. Damn thing weighs over four hundred pounds. I've even been practicing on it trying to teach myself to play. This could take some time. I feel like Boris Karloff when I sit at the huge wrap around keyboard. Every stop changes the sound of the big organ, giving it infinite variations. Marie plays it like a demon. The twin Leslie cabinets give it a monstrous vibrato in the small room. You feel like you're in a cathedral when she plays. Not to mention the bass pedals under your feet. It's all so confusing. Give me my six strings and about two hundred watts RMS, and hold on to your girdle, Gerty.
Camille's sexual activities have slackened now, but Louise and I are trying to keep each other occupied whenever the mood strikes us. Helen has cooled off on Roger and she slips over for a quickie from time to time. Dennis's mother has been a regular visitor, what with Dennis and Marie being on the road. Marie tells me Dennis is digging deeper each time they fuck and he's really coming into his own in the sack. I think they're getting sweet on each other. Marie always gives me a great tumble whenever she comes home for a couple of days. Dennis gets quiet but he hasn't said a word to me about it.
I met up with the carpet lady one night in Ormond Beach. Danny Holiday's daughter Lisa had invited me to a party, out on the Mosquito Inlet. It took place in a big old mansion owned by some state senator. The night ended up with Carol, 'The Carpet Slut' and several of the male attendees, in a gang fuck in the middle of the living room floor, with a dozen other men and women spectating. Lisa told me later, that she found the whole scene most distasteful, due to the fact that each of the gentlemen involved in the action ended up spewing an enormous quantity of sperm, onto the face and other exposed parts of the woman's body. She said it was an awful waste of good tasting cum and she'd have much rather swallowed it herself, than watch it be sprayed over that hussy.
Lisa cracked me up. No matter when you saw her, she always looked like a streetwalker. She wore entirely too much make up. She's always got skin showing somewhere, and her clothes, trashy as they can be, were always too small. You could inevitably find panty lines under whatever it was that covered her butt, and her chubby tits were at constant battle to escape their confines. She is crass, irritable and argumentative, outspoken, and cusses like a sailor. But I liked her and always had a ball when I was around her. I had avoided having a sexual encounter with her until that night of the party. We had driven down in Lisa's Chevy Van, which was all rigged out inside with seats and carpeting and a little table and refrigerator. She also has a double bed across the back, with stereo speakers and sexy lighting. We left the party shortly after one in the morning and Lisa insisted that I drive because she had been drinking and I had been much better behaved. I climbed behind the wheel and we decided to drive up A-1-A rather than go over to U.S.1. I drove up through Ormond and before I even got through town, Lisa had crawled in the back of the van and stripped her panties off.
She held then up in front of my face and asked, "Do you believe how wet my pussy got watching those guys jacking off on that old bitch back there?"
I took the saturated wispy pink undies and held them up to my nose and said, "The sweetest odor in the world is the smell of a woman's pussy when she's excited. Do you know how hard my dick was?"
I tucked her drawers in my shirt pocket. She rummaged in the fridge and found herself a beer and me a soda. As she crawled back into her seat I got a complete eyeful of beaver. Her skirt was bunched around her waist. She sat and reached under the seat and released the lock on the seat. She swiveled it so she sat facing me. The dash lights illuminated her enough for me to clearly see the hairy blond thatch that covered her cunt. Her dark puffy outer lips protruded through the bush and lay spread oprn on the upholstery.
She toked on the beer and said, "Jesus, that made me hot. How can she take all those guys on at one time? She must have fucked four or five and I know she had a couple up her ass. Then all of 'em shooting all over her face. Fuck, I'm horny."
Her fingers disappeared into her box and she was frigging herself like crazy. It didn't take long before she had a quick orgasm, sending a stream of cunt juice flowing out over her hand onto the seat. Lisa slumped back into the seat, sliding forward enough so I could see how matted her pussy hair had become. This bimbo had no shame. I reached out and flicked a finger over her clit. Her eyes had been closed but they flew wide open at my touch and she jerked forward grabbing my arm and shuddered through another quick orgasm. My hand was now warm with her juices.
"Oh, man," she breathed. "You gotta fuck me, Cool. I really need it bad tonight. I'll do anything you ask me to if you'll please say you'll fuck me."
I figured it was time to get to know Lisa a little better anyway, so I told her that if she could wait, we'd go back to the Islands Estates, and I wanted to make a movie of us fucking. She said she could wait but she needed to stop so she could piss. We were still south of Beverly Beach, there was no traffic in either direction, so I stopped by the roadside and watched as she squatted beside the van and pissed a long stream beside the tire. She climbed back in and found a tissue in her purse to dry pussy with. I made her put the tissue in the empty beer can so as not to be a litterbug. I thought she was going to throw it in my face when I said it but she thought better of it. I hate trash on the roadway.
Lisa was quiet for the remainder of the trip home. We pulled in behind the house. Lights were on down at the boathouse so I assumed Marie and Dennis were in town. I opened the door to the studio and we went in. Lisa came into my arms and I covered her mouth with mine. She was a good kisser and her tongue was very long and inquisitive.
I kneaded her big soft tits with both hands and she groaned into my mouth. Lisa was a soft girl, kinda like fluffy. Maybe thirty extra pounds making everything on her body soft. Her lips were soft, her tits were soft, her thighs and ass were chubby, she had a poochie belly, and those little wigglies under her arms when she raised them up. Her face was round and she was pretty to look at. She used way too much eye shadow and color in her cheeks, and over-painted her supple lips. The whole package could be described as a totally trailer trash, blond floozy. Which of coarse was not the case. She was a corporate jet airplane pilot and her family was worth millions. She just disassociated herself with their image when she hit the streets to party. I heard dad tell Louise that Danny, her father, was mortified whenever he saw her in public.
We broke the kiss, when it started to get difficult to breath. I unbuttoned the back of her blouse and she shrugged it off. Her thirty-eight inch whoppers were stuffed into a thirty-six inch hammock, which left a lot of flesh bulging out around it. I had to have this on tape so I steered her over to the bar and told her to get herself a beer and mix me a Scotch while I loaded the tape decks in the control room. I rushed back to find her bending over looking in the fridge. Her ample ass cheeks staring at me as I activated the big roll around camera and closed in on her from behind. The camera picked up the moisture that glistened in the matted yellow hair covering her ass hole and pussy. She was evidently still very aroused and her juices were drooling from within. Her skirt was bunched around her waist. Long burgundy garter straps reached from under the skirt to her black stocking tops. When she stood upright and turned, I pulled the camera back and panned up from her wooly thatch across her belly and up to her bulging titties and then to her smiling face. Her hair was tousled and the crimson lip-gloss was smeared on her lips, from our torrid kissing.
"What the fuck are you doin'?" she asked.
