Author's note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, writings about his life. I have edited these accounts and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.
This piece can be appreciated without having read all the previous chapters. But read them anyway.
******************** 8A: Fucking around at my little sister's, 1971
After my episode with Paul, I reached my little sister Lyn's San Boogaloo (San Bernardino) house, a little studio casita in a courtyard. Night had fallen. The house was dark. Asleep already? I lay in the hammock outside her door, gazed at what stars I could see through the smog, and thought and thought.
Lyn fed me breakfast in the morning, filled me with bad coffee, dutifully tried to sing along as I played harmonica, and then went back to her carvings. Her job was to make originals that would be cast to make molds for craft-store kits. Nice work if you can get it. She usually tuned her radio to a jazz station out of L.A.
Lyn is medium height (compared to me) with an oval face, long dirty blonde hair, nice bubbly tits and ass, strong legs, skillful hands. Her usual expression includes nervous laughter. She wore short-shorts, a thin halter-top, and huarache sandals this morning.
I looked at her trim figure, mentally compared her to the girls I'd had, and to Paul.
I thought, "What the fuck am I doing here? Where do I go now?"
The answers I came up with led me out of L.A., back to San Francisco. But first, I stayed with Lyn a while, and thumbed around some more.
I retrieved my guitar and rucksack and stuff from Hollyweird. Lyn had issued me an open invitation to stay with her. Her casita included a walk-in closet with a little outside window. She did not use this tiny room, so it became my bedroom, just big enough for a queen bed mounted on steel milk crates and a plywood plank, with a broomstick overhead for hanging clothes. My other paltry stuff went into the milk crates or hung from wall or door hooks.
Lyn's was not my only invitation.
"Hey big guy, I see you around here a lot, who are you? You ain't Lyn's boyfriend, are you? By the way, my name's Clarita. You got a name? You got a job?"
"Uh, hi Clarita, I'm Ron, and I'm Lyn's brother, not her boyfriend. And no, I don't work around here."
"Yeah, I knew that, she told me so. I just wanted to see if you were another fucking liar."
Clarita was a curvy olive-skinned Chicana about shoulder-high to my 6'5" frame, similar to Lyn, with shoulder-length black hair, a heart-shaped face, and blinding black eyes. Her tight navel-baring yellow Tweety Pie tee (no bra) and short denim cutoffs nicely showed her hourglass figure and bicycle-toned legs.
I wore my own denim cutoffs, and an unbuttoned khaki shirt from a military surplus store, and my size 16 red Keds. My black hair was not quite as long as hers was. I was clean-shaven except for a wide moustache.
Clarita lived in her studio casita across the courtyard from Lyn's. The front was planted with cacti, big pancake opuntias with nasty barbed spines. Clarita's character was rather sharp and barbed too.
"So if you ain't working, how you gonna live?"
"Hey, I just got here. I'll do day labor. I know where the Manpower office is, it's not far. And Lyn lets me stay with her."
"Yeah, Lyn told me all that too. So I haven't caught you lying yet. You had lunch already? You hungry?"
---
Thus began my funtime with Clarita. She invited me to eat. She invited me to play guitar. She invited me to tell stories. She invited me and Lyn for dinner, and before- and after-dinner wine, and more guitar music and stories. She invited us to stay the night in her king bed. Lyn declined; I accepted. Turns out, I did not use my little bedroom at Lyn's very much.
After Lyn left that night, Clarita snuggled up to me, sniffed me, and grimaced.
"Oh boy, you smell like you been out in the sun too long. So do I. Let's fix that."
Clarita stood. She stripped off her tee, kicked off her sandals, and dropped her shorts and panties.
"C'mon guy, the shower is over here."
I quickly got naked and followed her.
We lathered. We scrubbed. I knew of secret of head-rubs, so I spent a long time working shampoo into her thick hair, and scratching her scalp, and rubbing her neck and shoulders under the fall of hair. She came groaning under my flexible fingers, a soft climax, her knees buckling, leaning against me, her tan arms wrapped around me to keep from falling. We had not even kissed yet.
"Wow Ron, you're pretty good at that! What else can you do? When you gonna do it?"
"Give me a chance and I'll have you howling at the moon like a wild wolf in Texas, how does that sound?"
"If that's a promise, I'm gonna hold you to it." She held my stiffened cock then.
"No promises, just a strong declaration of intent." I lightly fingered her slit.
"Maybe we should know each other better." She pulled my head down and kissed me.
The water was cooling so we dialed the shower off. We stood in the good-sized shower stall, dripping wet, our mouths and bodies welded together, our hands roaming over every exposed surface, our glands oozing. We broke off after some immeasurable span of time, still dripping. Clarita grabbed my hand and led me out.
"We gonna dry off before we go to bed, Clarita?"
"We don't need no fucking towels. Get your skinny ass out here."
The door next to the shower led to a small back yard, just a couple hundred square feet, loosely lined with tiles with grass growing in the gaps. A warm breeze wafted over the high fence, over us, air-drying us as we waltzed to the rhythm of a distant train's clackety-clacking. The half-moon was pale pink from smog.
"OK big guy, show me what you can do now." She led me inside, to her bed.
I pushed Clarita on her back, raised and spread her knees, put her feet flat on the bed. She raised her torso on her elbows to watch me. I kissed her left foot, her calf, her knee, her thigh. My hands rubbed her flesh around my kisses. I nuzzled her thick black muff. I kissed down her right leg, then back up. I slowly licked her slit from bottom to top, tasting her spicy juices.
