Out of Peoria

Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter I: California, here I come?

The first twenty two years of my life were so utterly conventional I am ashamed to own up to them. I grew up in a small town in the mid-west and partook of all the things one did when growing up in a small town in the mid-west. I lost my virginity at 18 --- to my future husband of course, my high-school sweet-heart, whom I married two years later when I was half way through college. Neither losing my virginity, nor the tepid sex-life that followed marriage made much of an impression on me. They were things girls did to catch, land and secure their man. It was not condoned to land a man by having sex before marriage, but it was accepted that this is what one did. Hypocrisy whichever way you twist and turn it. Likewise, the man who had ‘had his way with a girl’ was expected to play fair and marry her at the ‘appropriate time’, preferentially after he had a steady job and prospects consistent with supporting a family. Of course, he could disappear, and many did, but if they wanted to hang around and become ‘pillars’ of the local society, they had to play by the local rules.

It didn’t take me long, though, to come to wonder why I had bothered landing my man. Brad was in no way bad. In fact, in my town he was regarded as quite the catch. He had good looks, charm and by the time of our marriage was already a successful car salesman with a good income and even better prospects. There was talk of a new ‘Wunderkind’ at the franchise and even of taking him on as a partner. I was quite the object of envy amongst my peers and I blush to this day when I think of how much satisfaction this gave me. He was even a ‘nice guy’ and it all was not really his fault.

I can’t put a date on my awakening, or even isolate a specific event that triggered it. I had graduated and begun work at a local firm of accountants. Brad was always very busy, and when he was home it was almost always because of a ball game. I served him beer --- he was after all the bread-winner, responsible for our lovely home and my extensive collection of clothes and jewelry. And when the game was over I lay beneath him as he grunted his way to orgasm. This was what a wife did. And when he then rolled off me and went to sleep, I dutifully turned and slipped also into sleep. I can’t even remember sighing, or feeling frustration or lying awake nursing the feeling I was missing out on something. In all outward respects, Brad was considerate, a model husband. He even mowed the lawn! It was just…..

… Well I really cannot say what it was that moved me suddenly to leave. It just happened. A moment of madness, or divine intervention, perhaps. But leave I did. I emptied out our joint account in one fell swoop, cash of course, took everything of value that I owned including the car Brad had proudly presented me with on my birthday, a BMW convertible, which I drove out of town westward, choosing a weekend when Brad was at a convention so I could get away as far as possible before anyone thought to look for me. I left Brad a note which said:

“I can’t take any more. Please do not follow me. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m not right for you. If you want to divorce me, go ahead. I won’t contest as long as you leave me alone.”

I left a note for my parents which said:

“I know you will never understand this and you will never, ever forgive me for it, even though I beg you to do so. But I am not apologetic. I am being stifled and I have to be able to breathe.”

No-one saw me leave. No one followed me, and to this day I do not know what Brad, my parents or anyone else did when they realized I was gone. I heard nothing. From my perspective, no one seemed to care. I had decided to leave their town, and therefore also their universe. This was all they knew. They did not want to know anything else.

I headed south-west. And it did not take very long for me to discover that an attractive young female rarely was alone -- especially one driving an extremely expensive BMW convertible! The problem of Brad’s convertible I solved at a motel somewhere in Missouri. The guy was drop dead gorgeous, but when we got to it, his sexual technique so resembled Brad’s he could have been a twin! I lay beneath him and groaned inwardly. He drove a Chevy Blazer. Well, that’s what he had driven until he met me. In the morning he drove a BMW convertible. Well, I left him the keys and a note suggesting a straight swap, and I presumed he would not be stupid enough to pass up on such an opportunity! So thenceforth I drove the Chevy Blazer, with California plates. I had it my head that California was the place to be. Can’t think why!

Santa Monica was not exactly what I had in my mind’s eye, but it was certainly a lot closer to where I wanted to be than “Peoria”. I took a room in a cheap motel and, after a few days relaxing on the beach and roller-blading up and down the boardwalk, I started scouring the neighborhoods for somewhere more permanent to stay. It was on the third day that I came across the message, on a board in a local store:-

“Commune seeks fourth female. Reasonable rates. Must be broad-minded.”

There was a number and a breezy female voice answered when I called. A couple of innocuous questions and answers back and forth and I had the address and was on my way. Jane met me at the door, dressed, as I discovered subsequently she almost always was, in a bath robe! She was nice, inviting and encouraging. The only question that could have raised an eyebrow was “Do you have experience of communal living?”. When I said “No!”, she just nodded and said that rather few people had, but I looked like the kind of person who would adapt rapidly. She showed me around a few large rooms, one of which was obviously a communal bedroom. Yes, Jane replied, when I asked, this was where everyone slept. It was a commune, after all.

What was remarkable about that first encounter is not what I asked, but what I did not. It was obvious that there were men and women in the commune. So they all slept in the same room. Er….? But I did not ask. And as for ‘the rent’, ‘Oh, we just chip in a bit now and then for groceries and stuff’. I did not follow up by asking more detailed questions. It was one of those situations. You really didn’t know what you were getting into, but the only way to find out was to get into it! Anyway, I was in California to experience the new and exotic. And what better way to start than by joining a “commune”. Whatever this was it would surely be different from the stifling marriage I had just left behind me. And if I didn’t like it, I would leave and move on. That was California. If you did not like where you were at, you moved on. There was always something else around the corner.

The ‘commune’ occupied the ground floor of a two-story building. The apartment above had a separate entrance and as time evolved I noted there was a fair traffic on the stairs. I assumed initially that the apartment above was also a commune. This turned out to be only partially true --- but let me not get ahead of myself.

Our ‘commune’ consisted of 6 permanent members, 4 women and 2 men, complemented by ‘hangers on’, who came and went, spending an hour or occasionally a night, but then disappearing as suddenly as they had materialized. These people, I was given to understand, sometimes had difficulties with ‘the authorities’. Of the permanent members Jane, low thirties, was somewhat older than the other women and served as a kind of ‘house mother’. The other five were Alicia, Mandy, Alex, Bob and of course myself. Alicia and Mandy were around my age, low twenties, while Alex and Bob were older, late thirties or even forties, that age, at any rate, when men are ageless, neither young nor old. I was duly welcomed by each as they arrived back from wherever they had been and enjoyed my first communal meal on my very first evening. Bob brought the food from the local Mexican take-out and it was good. Especially preceded by a couple of Margaritas (Alicia’s speciality) and accompanied by a bottle or two of very reasonable Zinfandel. All the while blue-grass music calmed, and the candles strewn around the room that Jane had lit almost as a ritual gave off a pungent, exotic fragrance.

I drank enough that my fears of ‘the night’ were subdued to practically nothing. Nevertheless it was a shock when at some hidden signal we all headed for the bedroom and an even greater shock to realize a moment later that I was the only one with clothes on! It could not have come as a surprise that Jane’s bath robe was her only covering, but the others seemed to divest themselves of clothing with hardly any more effort than it took to slip a bathrobe off one’s shoulders.

I could not help but turn my back as I undressed demurely and I confess to a definite inhibition when it came to bra and panties. The alcohol gave me courage however, and after some minutes, I turned, naked, prepared to deal with whatever fate was mine. I need not have bothered however because by the time I was ready the constellations were set in place. In one corner of the room, hidden by the dim light provided by wall niche candles someone had lit in advance, Bob and Mandy were entwined around each other, while closer to me in my corner of the room, Jane and Alicia were thoroughly preoccupied with Alex. Jane was stretched out on the large mattress kissing him and working her fingers through his hair, while Alexia was already fondling his cock and balls, and as my gaze focused on her, began to fellate him gently.

And what was I supposed to do? I stood there, stark naked and ignored! A mixture of emotions welled through me. My natural inborn inhibitions demanded that I be shocked by this promiscuity. At the same time, a sense of thrill coursed through me. This was surely not Peoria. And however much clashed with the value system I had been taught and lived by up to that time, there was a reason why I was in California. and now was crunch time!

Alicia helped me break my temporary paralysis. She looked up at me, grasping Alex’s stiffening cock in slender fingers and wanking him gently, and said “Well come on then. He’s got plenty for two.”

She went back to fellating him, but when I overcame my inhibitions and stretched out on Alex’s other side she released his cock and proffered it to me. “Nice cock,” she said sliding her fingers up and down its sides. “And all yours.” And so saying she left me to it and slid over to Bob and Mandy and eased her way into that action. I was left literally holding onto this cock, only the second one I had ever touched in my life!

I was not experienced enough to know whether Alicia was right and Alex’s was, in fact, a particularly nice cock. It was, however, nicer than Dean’s. It was thicker for starters and it tapered towards the tip, whereas Dean’s was like a mushroom with a slender stem and a pronounced red, bulbous tip. I had had plenty of experience handling that cock. Dean loved to have his cock fondled and was quite inventive finding a nook or a cranny at school, or making out in the back of his car, or even on the porch of a warm night. We fucked hardly at all in those early days, I thought because of lack of opportunity, but we were rarely together without his cock coming out and me fondling it until it spewed semen all over my hand. It did not take much action for Brad to come, and once he our encounter would be over.

I continued masturbating him throughout our married life and often felt he preferred this to fucking. Occasionally he would finger me, which I really liked, but more often in the early days, and hardly at all after our marriage. When I came later to rationalize it, I had adopted a view of sex whereby the object is to get the man off, as quickly as possible and quite regardless of any requirements, needs or wants I may have. Everything hinged on what I thought Brad wanted. Nothing else played a role at all.

So I began my new life putting into practice what I had learned. I knelt at Alex’s side and stroked and wanked his cock and fondled his balls. Gradually the cock stiffened and grew yet thicker and longer. And it soon became an entirely natural act for me to take the tip between my lips and gradually edge the cock into my mouth.

Although it seemed natural at the time, this was nevertheless for me a departure. Brad has always wanted me to fellate him, but I had always refused, arguing without real reason that I just did not like it. How could you not like something you had never tried? This question was never asked nor answered. It just did not seem appealing to me at all.

How different with Alex. His cock cried out for oral attention, and far from not liking it, I discovered I liked it very much indeed. I liked the way it felt when I ran the tip of my tongue over the meatus at the tip. I liked the feeling of power when I grasped the root of the cock and lowered my mouth over it as far as it could go, then sucked, released, sucked and released until I felt the cock throb with anticipation. I loved running my tongue down the sides and licking the base. And I instinctively knew when to let go, to let the cock rest and turn my attention to Alex’s balls and ballbag.

The very idea of licking or sucking Dean’s balls would have been quite sickening to me, but with Alex it was completely different. Like the base of his cock, his balls were devoid of hair and felt wonderfully silky and smooth --- this was the first time I had realized that there were men who shaved ‘down there’. So I licked and sucked his balls between bouts of cock sucking, each time taking the cock a little deeper into my mouth, each time sucking a little harder.

So absorbed was I in this activity, so relieved perhaps that I had taken the plunge and discovered to my astonishment that I was not only a natural fellatrist, but thoroughly enjoyed the act of fellatio, I was completely oblivious of what the other people in the room were doing. There was me, my hands, my mouth and a very responsive cock! I was in my element.

It took Jane several attempts (so she later said) to get into my field of vision. Following a particularly vigorous bout of sucking which amounted essentially to fucking Alex's cock hard with my mouth, again, again and again, I ran out of steam and, rocking back on my haunches recognized that Jane had taken up position across from me where Alicia had been. “Hey, leave some for the rest of us,” she said, a twinkle in her eye!

And with that I regretfully relinquished my cock to her and let her take over, which she did by first licking around the base of the cock and sucking gently on Alex’s balls. “Let him cool off a bit,” she said to me, with that same twinkle in her eye. And it was only then that I realized how much stimulation Alex’s cock had received, and without the appearance of a single drop of semen. Dean would have blown his load six times! I realized how much I had to learn about sex and in that realization and the knowledge that I was in the right place, I was truly happy. For the first time in my life, I was alive, I was a woman and I was doing what nature had intended for me to do.

A few minutes later I was experiencing yet another new sensation. With Alex and Jane’s encouragement, I straddled his head and lowered myself to allow him to stimulate my vagina, labia and, heaven of all heaven’s, my clitoris, with his tongue and lips. This he did with great gentleness and the sensation coupled with the view of Jane’s head bobbing up and down over Alex’s cock transported me to a new dimension. Jane was obviously an accomplished fellatrix, varying her stimulation in degrees to maximum effect. Occasionally, she would push down on the iron hard cock, pause for breath, then push down further until the entire member was engulfed within her mouth. How she did this I had no idea. Like all Americans, I had heard of “Deep Throat” of course, but I had never connected this with a physical activity, so sheltered had my life been to that point in time. Now I found the sight of Alex’s long juicy cock engulfed in its entirety in Jane’s gullet to be visually extremely erotic. And the eroticism was multiplied by Alex’s reaction. His entire body shuddered and jolted in accompaniment to Jane’s ministrations.

I thought he was coming, shooting his load deep into Jane’s throat, but his cock retained its stiffness following every release. She would rock back on her heels, take a few deep breaths and then renew her attack. Obviously she knew full well how to keep that cock simmering, but just short of the boil!

And Alex’s oral attentions to my vagina and clitoris followed closely the stimulation he was receiving from Jane. When she was licking playfully he would also lick gently at my labial lips, flicking his tongue occasionally so that it’s tip touched my clitoral hood. When he was being deep throated he would take my entire labial and clitoral area into his mouth and suck hard, his tongue searching for the clitoral tip. A novum for me, a very pleasurable one, but everything that was happening was novel. I was in a space I had not before occupied. I did not ask where this was leading. It was a very wonderful space and I was just happy and thankful to be in it.

Jane had just completed what seemed like a vicious attack on Alex’s cock, deep-throating him again and again. But if contest this was, the cock won, and Jane relaxed back on her haunches, panting and somewhat wide-eyed. She looked up at me.

“Want to go first?” was what she said. And with a sudden thrill, I realized she was inviting me to straddle Alex and ride his cock. This was another novum --- Brad was strictly missionary and not at all given to trying out a female superior position. In no time I was in position and Jane was there to guide the cock as I sank onto it, inch by inch, as my juices began seriously to flow, up to the hilt. What bliss!

Gingerly, I began to move to and fro with Alex’s cock deep within me. He filled me in a way Brad never had. This feeling was entirely new to me and this was not only because I was in the female superior position. Alex’s cock thickened substantially towards the base so the deeper I took him into me the more my outer ‘parts’ splayed out and were stimulated.

Once impaled upon this cock, I felt a tremendous sense of freedom. I was in control. For the first time in my life, I was fucking a man rather than the reverse. I would decide according to my own sensation what action to take. I could sit up high and rock to and fro, or I could lean forward and drive the cock in and out of my vagina. To and fro, in and out, and any combination between. It was my choice, a wonderfully empowering feeling.

And one that was enhanced by the sight of Jane getting the treatment I had previously received. As I rode Alex’s cock, Jane rode his face, positioning herself according to the stimulation she wanted. Our eyes met and the communication was instant. I knew what she was feeling. She knew where I was at. Instinctively our hands reached out to stroke the other’s breasts and tweak the stiffening nipples. The sensation of sexual arousal welled up inside me, but it was within my control and I simply adjusted my movements so that the glow did not erupt, but spread slowly to encompass my entire body. Jane was obviously doing the same and with each involuntary cry, grunt or exhalation I felt a curious bond with her growing. We were both fucking Alex, but it was as though we were stimulating each other.

After a considerable time we swapped places, again a matter of instinctive communication. Neither of us appeared to have asked or answered, but the exchange just happened. And the sight of Jane slowly lowering herself on Alex’s raging hard cock almost brought me to a head! She threw back her head and pounded up and down on him grunting with every stroke. Following a particularly loud and violent grunt, switched to a gentle rocking motion, and I did too, raising myself so that Alex’s tongue tip flicked around my genitals, and then lowering myself and pressing my labia hard onto his mouth and practically fucking his face. Quite unconsciously I found that I had matched my pace to Jane’s. When she was vigorous so was I, when quiet, then I was quiet too.