Rons Journal 05B

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.

For readers' convenience, most Spanish language speech and signals are given in loose English translation. This piece can be appreciated without having read all the previous chapters. But read them anyway.

******************** 11A: Enroute to the Federal District

I had left San Francisco to pursue a girl in upstate New York. I made a fateful decision there.

I was twenty-four years old, and drifting. I had been drifting for years. I was tired of my aimlessness, and was finally ready for some sort of stability. But would it be static stability, frozen into place? Or dynamic stability, like a gyroscope, active yet centered?

Static stability:

Settle down in this village on the Erie Canal between Rochester and Syracuse. Court and win beautiful Sherry; I was approved by her sisters Vonnie and Netty and very approved by her dyke mother Nancy. Advance in business; I was on a management track at the local machine-parts factory. After a couple years, I would be embedded, a solid member of this small historic community.

Dynamic stability:

Join the military and see the world, get GI Bill and college, push my limits, be all I could be, yada yada. Nixon was gone. The VietNam war was over. The military would be fairly safe now.

The deciding factors: 1) Sherry and I jelled too slowly. 2) Winters there were brutal. And 3) the town had no bookstore. Boring...

Before committing myself to military service, I wanted one last fling, one last grand run on the road. I sold my bicycle, shipped my excess baggage to Dad in Southern California, packed my passport and rucksack, grabbed my guitar, kissed upstate New York adieu, and stuck my thumb out.

-----

I thought I was going to Canada. My plan: Thumb to Buffalo, then Toronto and Montreal and Quebec City and Halifax. I landed in Mexico City instead. Go figure.

My first ride was with a nervous businessman who put his hand on my knee. I jumped out at the next stop light. My second ride was with a nervous housewife who put her hand on my knee. I jumped out at her home.

Bette was a little older and shorter than I was, with cropped strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes, an oval face, and a thin pinkish sundress that nicely displayed her full breasts and strong legs.

I tossed my rucksack and guitar in her station wagon's back seat and scooted onto the front bench seat. We introduced ourselves, talked about destinations and distances. She made a sharp turn; I slid towards her. Her hand settled on my knee, a little jittery. I put my hand atop hers. At the next stoplight, I put my hand on her neck. She leaned over. We kissed.

Bette turned into a suburban driveway, punched a remote control, and pulled into her attached garage. The door closed behind us. She led me into her house, turned to me, held me, kissed me. We left our shoes at the door.

Bette led me to her bed. I pulled the sundress over her head and unsnapped her lacy pink bra. I left the bra hanging from her shoulders, cupped on her round breasts. She wore no panties.

"Would you like to undress me, Bette?"

She nodded, "Yes, I would, I really would."

Bette undid my belt, dropped my Levis and briefs to the floor. I kicked them away. She reached under my tee with one hand and rubbed my chest. Her other hand held my stiffening cock. I raised my arms. Still holding my cock, her other hand pulled my tee over my head.

I stood naked, my arms still held high, her hand rubbing my torso. I leaned forward, put my hands on her shoulders, and bit her bra, pulling it off her breasts with my teeth. She let it drop to the floor, then resumed her handling of me. I tongued one nipple, then the other, then back again, and again. She sighed.

"Do you want to go fast or slow, Ron?"

"I'm in no hurry. Are you?" I sucked her tits harder.

"I have all day, all week. Oooh... My husband is gone most of the time, on business trips. He won't be back anytime soon. Oooh, that feels so good..."

"Does he ever come back without warning?" I really wouldn't like to be shot by a jealous hubby.

"I took him to the airport yesterday morning. He won't be back till a week from tomorrow. He has never come back early, never. Oooh, yes..."

I pushed Bette back on the bed and lay beside her. I kissed her mouth as I fondled her head, her neck, her throat, her breasts. I worked my hands from her shoulders, down her arms, and held her hands, our fingers interlocked. My kisses moved from her mouth to her neck. She squirmed and moaned.

I gently pushed her legs apart and moved myself between her knees. She spread her thighs more. I kissed down from between her breasts to her belly, her navel, to just above her light bush. I slid further down between her legs and kissed one inner thigh, then the other, while I ran my hands along her legs to her feet and back.

I nuzzled Bette's vulva. She groaned. I licked up her slit from bottom to top. She twitched. I licked around her labia, separating the inner and outer lips, drawing patterns across and around them. She whimpered. I slid my tongue into her vagina, then circled her clit. She moaned louder, "Oh, oh, oh, oh..."

I glanced up and saw that Bette was pinching her nipples. I used my fingers to separate her labia, then pushed one finger, then two, into her cunt. Her muscles contracted on my fingers, grasping me tightly as I pushed in and out. I tongued her clit directly and moved my fingers faster. She screamed and gushed.

I gently soothed her pussy with my tongue. Yes, I well remembered my lessons from Judy and Ann.

"Oh Ron, that was wonderful, wonderful."

"We're nowhere near done. I want to cum in your mouth while I lick your clit."

Bette started to climb on me in 69 position, but first I pulled her so our mouths were together. We explored each other's tonsils. I pulled her further so her tits were at my mouth. She licked my nipples and fisted my cock. I kissed one tit, fingered the other, and fingered her soggy pussy.

I pulled her further so our head were between thighs. She swallowed my cock. I slurped her slit, her clit, filled her hole with my tongue. She tongued my cock, then filled her mouth again. She dropped my cock as she came again, then attacked me with greater urgency. I felt my balls swell, my juices rise. I exploded in her mouth, down her throat, filling her guts with love.

I held Bette atop me for a long while. Her firm breasts pressed into me. She held my cock in her mouth, sucking tenderly. I lazily tongued her cunt and rubbed my hands over her smooth back and tight butt and solid legs. She sucked harder. I grew harder.

I finally rolled Bette off me, snuggled against her, then spread her legs. She stopped me before I took the missionary stance.

"Ron, I'm not on The Pill. But I don't think I'm fertile now."

"Don't worry, Bette, I had a vasectomy. I'm shooting blanks. Here, you can feel the cut."

I guided her fingers to my scrotum. She felt the gap in my tubing. She sighed with relief.

"OK Ron, that's good. I want you in me now!"

I moved between her thighs. I slid fully into her depths. She cried and wrapped her arms and legs around me, her heels into my butt, driving me deeper into her. I fucked with long slow strokes, then faster and shorter. I felt her excitement build and burst. As she screamed and her cunt contracted on my cock, I spasm'd. I poured shot after shot into her. She held me tighter. We kissed fiercely.

I rolled off Bette. We lay side-by-side, arms across each other, gasping.

"Ooh Ron, that was a good start. What are you doing for the next day or so?"

"Fucking you, hopefully. Do you have any other plans?"

"Just a shower, some lunch, and more sex. You up to that?"

"With your mouth, Bette, I'll be back up in no time."

She dropped me at a turnpike ramp east of Rochester the next morning. Hey, nice way to start a trip!

-----

Like I said, I thought I was going to Canada. But there's a basic rule of vagabonding: follow the rides.

My next ride was with a guy in a Firebird, wearing casual clothes and short hair, a few years older than I, shorter and muscular. A duffel and garment bag were on the back seat.

"Hey there, I'm going to Baltimore, want a ride?"

Hmmm, I thought, wrong direction, but a 350-mile ride! Sure! Yeah, I had time and no firm destination. One of my favorite little books ends with this:

STRANGE TRAVEL DIRECTIONS ARE GOD'S DANCING LESSONS.

I decide to go dancing.

(The book was by a wandering hobo who made a living sharpening tools. The title is SCISSORS SAM SAYS STAY SHARP. The book is about keeping one's blades and mind sharp. It's my second bible.)

Frank was a USAF airman, on a one-month leave. He was driving around visiting buddies and family. He was a wild and crazy dude. He drove fast -- until he saw any adult bookstore beside the highway. Then he drove faster, parked outside, ran inside, and emerged a few minutes later with a brown paper bag, which he threw in the car's trunk. I always waited outside. I didn't need to waste money and rucksack space on porn.

Frank stopped at a dozen sleaze stores at least. He wanted to stop at a whorehouse in Harrisburg too, offered to treat me to a girl, but I told him I was already well-fucked. I told him about my previous day and night with Bette. He laughed.

"Well, you aren't quite Jody, but you're close."

Jody is a military legend, a mythical demigod-demon. Jody is the guy who preys on your woman while you're on duty away from home. Jody romances your lonely wife or girlfriend, entices her, fucks her, fathers her kids. Jody is the cuckoo. But I hadn't pursued Bette; she had enticed *me*. So I was just almost-a-Jody.

Frank dropped me outside Baltimore. I got a couple rides, found myself on the western outskirts of DC in the dark. I unrolled my sleeping bag under a highway overpass and slept. Only June, but the night was hot and muggy and miserable. I decided I hated DC.

Next morning, a couple rides got me up into the piedmont. Another housewife kissed me but didn't take me home -- not lonely enough, I guess. A CIA analyst and his young son were going rock-climbing in Shenandoah National Park and took me to a good spot. And the next ride was a real winner.

-----

Jesse and Jimmy had just graduated from prep school in Connecticut and were driving to Houston to see friends, then to Colorado for a summer-session at university. Wow, DC to Houston in one ride! Further, actually -- I'll get to that in a minute.

Jesse drove his Camaro down the length of the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway, then cut over across Arkansas through the Ouachitas (south of the Ozarks) into Oklahoma and down across east Texas. We stopped often for photographs and munchies and beer. We tented near Mt Ida, the crystal capital of America. We rolled through endless plantations. We reached Houston.

Their friend Dave was another recent grad of the same prep school. Dave lived with his folks in the Riveroaks neighborhood of Houston. That's the Beverly Hills of Texas, I was told. Money money money. Dave's dad's den had originals by Picasso and Matisse on the walls. We lunched and swam at the Riveroaks Country Club, wearing our tees and jeans. The staff probably scrubbed the pool after we left.

Dave's folks were gone for the night. He invited some girls over, six girls for us four guys. We had all the couplings and triplings you could imagine. When the group fuckfest died out, Dave and Jesse and Jimmy retired to separate beds with one girl each. We spread blankets on the den floor for me and the other three. Picasso and Matisse looked down upon us as we fucked and sucked and slurped.

Michelle the swimmer with cropped black hair sat in my lap, arms and legs wrapped around me, her cunt impaled on my cock, my mouth impaled on her tongue. Long-distance runner Diane with the long blond ponytail kissed and fondled frizzy-red-haired Jessica the dancer.

Michelle and I disengaged our faces. We watched as Jessica laid Diane on her back, spread her legs, and kissed her tits and belly and vulva. Diane moaned and writhed under Jessica's expert tongue-lashing.

Michelle climbed off me and straddled Diane's head, feeding her wet dripping cunt to Diane's active tongue. I raised Jessica's jaunty butt off the floor; she rose to her knees and spread her legs, keeping her mouth on Diane's pussy. I slid on my back between Jessica's legs and licked her clit.

After Jessica's next orgasm, I scooted back out, knelt behind her bubbly butt, and slid my rigid ramrod into her velvet vagina. My persuasive pounding distracted Jessica from tonguing Diane's cunt. Diane moved away and pulled Michelle atop her into a vigorous thrashing 69.

I continued to do the dirty dog on Jessica. She clenched the blanket in her fists and wailed, "Oh fuck oh fuck oh oh fuck me fuck me oh oh OHHHH!!"

Jessica collapsed. Her abused cunt pulled away from my still-stiff cock with a plop. Michelle rolled off Diane. Diane looked at me, her face drenched in Michelle's juices.

"Hey Ron, that sounded like fun. You got any left for me?"

"For you, baby, I'm just starting. But my knees hurt a little. Wanna ride me?"

"Fuck yeah! Lie back, take it easy, I'll do all the work."

Diane crawled over and kissed me. She soaked my face with new flavors. Then Diane climbed on me, mounted me reverse-cowgirl, and started sliding up and down my cock, her long blond ponytail whipping across her lean back.

Michelle looked at me. "Me some too," she said, and climbed onto my face in the same direction as Diane. I slurped Michelle's juicy pussy while she turned Diane's head around and frenched her. Jessica knelt over my outstretched legs in front of Diane and worshipped Diane's tits.

Diane broke away from Michelle's kisses. She looked to the ceiling with closed eyes and a grim grimace and pounded frantically on my willing willy. As Diane started to wail, Jessica muffled her with her own mouth. Michelle and I fought over Diane's tits. I won. No, everybody won. No losers here.

Dave got everybody awake and clean and presentable before his parents returned home in the morning. I was invited to stay another day and night. Dave drove us guys around Houston in his folks' BMW.

Dave dropped me back at the mini-mansion while he took Jesse and Jimmy to see other friends. I had a nice chat with Dave's MILF mom Doris, a lanky blond tennis-toned goddess. We talked about places and times. She insisted on cutting my long hair so I could make it past the steely-eyes at the border.

I showered after the haircut. Doris slipped into the shower with me. We shampooed and scrubbed each other thoroughly. She knelt under the spray to blow me. I bent her over and took her from behind. We got very clean. Then we screwed on a huge sectional couch, and had to shower again. We were respectable when her husband and son and his friends arrived for dinner.

With Dave's folks at home, we 'youngsters' couldn't play there that night. But Jessica's nearby home had a pool house perfect for partying. A few more guys and gals gathered there. We all wailed until 2:00 AM.

The next morning, Doris gave me a couple bottles of Kaopectate to forestall Montezuma's revenge -- she didn't trust Mexican hygiene. And Dave gave me... a spring-loaded collapsible black top hat! It fit easily into my rucksack, and came in useful, sooner and later.

Jesse and Jimmy had to leave for Colorado now, but they were not yet rid of me. Jesse drove us through San Antonio and on to the border at Eagle Pass, Texas. I thanked them profusely. What a great ride!

-----

I walked the pedestrian bridge across the Rio Grande / Rio Bravo to Piedras Negras, Coahuila. The Mexican customs man checked my passport and my money, then told me to open my rucksack. The collapsed top hat was on top. He picked it up and asked, "What's this?"

I grinned, popped it open, and set it on my head. He scowled and waved me on. His comment could be roughly translated as "crazy focking gringo!"

I walked the couple blocks to the bus station and bought a ticket to Mexico City, the Federal District, a.k.a. Mexico DF.

I checked my guitar and rucksack and took a seat in the very front. My seatmate was a medium-sized longhaired girl named Marina wearing a light sweater and a short skirt. She was returning home after finishing her freshman college year in Austin, Texas.

The scheduled twenty-hour drive to Mexico DF stretched closer to twenty-four hours when the bus blew a tire sometime after midnight somewhere south of Saltillo. Other passenger busses stopped; their drivers and mechanics assisted in the laborious manual-labor tire-changing process.

Marina and I had chatted and napped a bit before the breakdown, and we dozed again during the stop. A few sips from the bottle of mezcal I had bought in Piedras Negras probably helped.

Our bus finally rolled. All other passengers settle down to sleep. Marina and I were mostly awake now, whispering, holding hands, smooching a little in the dark, sipping some more mezcal. Our touches became more intimate. Marina slipped her panties off.

I unzipped my jeans, pulled them off my butt, sat back. Marina sat in my lap facing forward. She rode me reverse-cowgirl, about the only genital-genital position possible in the bus seat. We didn't move much. We didn't need to. The roadway vibrations were stimulating enough. I unobtrusively fondled her nice breasts.

No screaming, no loud groans, just satisfied moans as I turned Marina's head to join our mouths together.

******************** 11B: Fun in the Federal District

We disembarked at the huge Mexico Norte bus terminal. I kissed Marina adios before we left our seats; her family was waiting. I located a big bulletin board offering rooms for rent. I stayed in the capitol for a couple weeks, wandering around, shooting photos, getting fucked, having what fun I could.

I took a room in a posada near the Zona Rosa, the 'happening' downtown district. The innkeeper, Norma, was a tidy woman, maybe a bit younger than my parents were. Her daughter Maria was a pneumatic 15-year-old glowing beauty. I complimented Maria on her clothing style. She loved to hear me sing Beatles songs. She smiled a lot. I never touched her.

Norma's boarders ranged from folks staying just a few days (like me) to some who had spent years there.

Margie from Scotland, and Tilly from Ireland, shared a room. They worked for a TV network, translating USA and British soap operas into Mexican (Maggie) and Argentinean (Tilly) dialects of Spanish. I vainly eyed their Celtic charms. They were polite to me, nothing more.

Carlos was an older man, some sort of uncle of Norma, maybe just an honorary uncle. Both Norma and Maria called him Tio. He worked for the Montana de Piedad (Mountain of Pity), the national pawnshop. He probably could have gotten me a nice discount on an old Nikonos underwater camera I fancied.

I found girls on the street to sneak into my room. Just one at a time; but Norma eventually caught me with one lovely and told me I must leave, she did not want Maria exposed to this life. I sincerely apologized. I packed, put my stuff in a storage locker, and went looking for other quarters before I left to return stateside. More on that later.

I learned the simple "rules of the road" of Mexico City traffic.

1: Right-of-way belongs to whatever gets there first.

2: Anything with less than 4 wheels does not matter.

Abide by those rules, and you *might* survive as a pedestrian or bicyclist. Maybe.