Hurricane Bob

Chapter 4

"Wait, so you guys haven't had sex?" Jackie asked, staring open-mouthed at me.

Connie was blushing. This whole conversation made her uncomfortable, but the margaritas were helping to open her up. We'd driven up to North Myrtle Beach for dinner, and as the drinks flowed, the conversation had unavoidably drifted into sexual territory. I wasn't thrilled at discussing my sex life in the dining room at Garcia's Mexican Restaurant, but nobody at the nearby tables seemed to be listening.

"I want to wait until we get married," Connie explained. "Or, at least until we are engaged."

"So did I!" Jackie agreed with a giggle.

Mike put his arm around her and said, "That lasted about a week. Once she saw my big dick, she had to have it inside her."

"You are so retarded, sometimes," Jackie fired back, pushing Mike away.

"Well, the difference is, Connie's a virgin," I elaborated.

Jackie raised her eyebrows at my remark. Was she surprised that Connie was a virgin, or was she offended by my implying she hadn't been? Nobody spoke for several seconds, and all eyes were on Connie.

"What are you talking about? I'm not a virgin!" Connie exclaimed. "Why d'you say that?"

Now it was my turn to be uncomfortable. I blushed profusely and stammered.

"I thought that's why you wanted to wait until we got married," I replied, my words stumbling out awkwardly. "I thought you'd never had sex with anyone."

"I never said I was a virgin," Connie said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "I had sex before, Bob, just not with you."

Mike guffawed loudly, spitting out a mouthful of Blue Margarita.

"So she likes sex," he bellowed. "She just doesn't like it with you! Heh-heh-heh. Such a fucking loser."

"Mike! That's not nice!" Jackie scolded her boyfriend. "She didn't say that at all!"

"Wait, so you're not a virgin?" I asked, growing angry. "So, all that innocent behavior and professed lack of experience was just an act?"

"No, it wasn't an act," Connie replied, defensively. "I have never done a lot of the things you like to do. I only had two serious boyfriends before you. They just wanted to do it, you know, like they were in a hurry. They never did anything for me to make me feel good. It was all about them. They just wanted to, you know, put it in."

"Fuck," Mike said bluntly.

Connie nodded.

"So, no foreplay?" Jackie asked.

"Not really," Connie replied. "It was always the same thing. They wanted me to use my mouth on them; then, they would climb on top and do it. As soon as they finished, it was over."

"Sounds like Mike," Jackie said, laughing.

"Hey, I make you cum, and you know it," Mike retorted. "Jackie's a screamer."

"Mike!" Jackie punched him in the arm.

"Yeah, we know," I replied with a sarcastic smirk. "We've heard her."

Now, Jackie blushed.

"I'm sure you have, but the funny thing is," Mike said slowly, drawing it out for dramatic effect. "Connie's slept over a few times, but we've never heard her screaming. Hell, we've never heard any sounds from your bedroom. You must not do it for her."

"Mike! Goddammit, if you don't stop, I'm cutting you off!" Jackie snapped.

"Cutting me off? From what, booze, or your pussy?"

"Booze!" She replied. You're an obnoxious drunk."

I muttered under my breath, "It's worse when he's sober."

"What was that, Blob? Mike asked, staring at me. "Don't get pissy with me because you can't make Connie cum."

Connie sat upright and pointed her finger at Mike accusatorially, her Latin temper provoked. "Hey! You don't have to worry about Bob! He knows how to make me cum! I just do it quietly. I'm not a puta."

She seemed to realize that Jackie may have taken umbrage with that remark, so she quickly added, "No offense, Jackie. I didn't mean you are a puta, but you are really loud. Just because I am quiet doesn't mean Bob doesn't know how to make me feel good. He knows how to do lots of things that nobody ever did to me before! You watch your mouth, Mister Mike before I snatch out the little bit of hair you have left on your head."

"Woah! Tone it down there, Consuela," Mike said. "It was just a joke. Heh-heh-heh, no harm, no foul."

"What kinds of things?" Jackie asked, finishing her Peach Margarita and waving the waitress down to order another round.

"Huh?" Connie asked, her anger dissipating quickly.

"What kinds of things does Bob do to you?" Jackie was sitting forward, curious to hear all the details.

Connie shot me a look, but I didn't react.

"You know, he does this thing with his mouth, on my pussy." Ok. That proved it Connie was officially drunk. She never liked to talk about sex, so she had to be pretty hammered to say that to others. I have to admit the way she pronounced the word 'pussy' was sexy. It sounded like 'poosie.'

"He eats you out?" Jackie asked, a glint in her eye.

"No, he doesn't eat anything out of me!" Connie said with a laugh. "That's crazy! He just licks my pussy. You know, he licks all over it, on the outside, on the inside where it's wet, and then he licks me in the place at the top that feels so good, the clip."

"The clit?" Jackie asked. She seemed to be squirming in her seat.

"Yeah, the clit!" Connie said, smiling. She leaned closer to Jackie and whispered, "That's when he makes me cum the best! And sometimes, he uses his fingers at the same time, and then it's like my head explodes."

"It's called eating pussy, Connie," Jackie explained.

"Why you call it eating? He's not eating nothing; he's just licking it."

"Good question!" Jackie replied.

"Whatever you call it, I like it," Connie said with a smile. "It is wonderful."

"It's disgusting," Mike chimed in.

"What? You don't eat your woman's pussy?" Connie asked, glaring at Mike.

"Hell no," Mike exclaimed. "Bob watches too much porn. Dudes don't eat pussy, lesbos do. Men just fuck."

"Well, I like to have my pussy licked," Jackie said, almost absent-mindedly.

"You what?" Mike asked. "You never told me that! When did you do that? Who was it, your dyke of a roommate in college?"

"Maggie was not a dyke, I mean, lesbian. She dated guys, too."

"Yeah, whatever," Mike replied. "She was a muff diver if I ever saw one."

"You can be a real dick, do you know that?"

"You just figured that out?" I asked rhetorically.

"Hey, fuck you, bro," Mike snapped. "This explains a lot. Your dick is about as big as a clit, so you compensate for your lack of manhood by muff diving. Now we know! Bob is a lesbo! Blob the Lesbo."

Jackie took Mike's newly arrived cocktail away. "You're cut off. If you don't stop, you'll be cut off from the pussy, too."

"Look, I know what women want," Mike professed. "They want a man to tell them what to do. They like men who are in charge. They want a man to grab them by the hair and shove his cock in their mouth, then bend them over and fuck the hell out of them."

"You're such a pig," Jackie proclaimed.

"Yeah, but you love to be fucked, just like that, by this pig," he threw back at her. "So what does that make you? A pig fucker?"

"That's it," Jackie said, standing up and throwing her napkin on the table. "I'm leaving."

She stormed out of the restaurant. Mike jumped up to go after her. "Pay the bill, Blob," he shouted. "I'll catch her. She's our ride!"

Connie was shocked by Mike's behavior. "Is he always such an asshole?"

"Only when he breathes," I replied as I stared at the check. It came to almost $200, and, of course, Mike hadn't left any money for their portion. I didn't want to wait for the waitress to come back, so we took the bill to the bar to pay. As the bartender ran my card, I watched the news on the TV over the bar.

A tropical storm had just formed in the Gulf of Mexico and was heading east toward Naples on the west coast of Florida. It didn't seem like much of a storm, but the funny thing was its name. Bob.

"How do you like that?" I asked Connie. "I got a tropical storm named after me."

"Where is it? Is it coming here?" She asked nervously.

"No, it's way down in Florida," I reassured her. "It's nowhere near us."

"Oh, thank God," she replied.

I signed the receipt, leaving a reasonable tip, and then Connie and I went out front. Jackie had pulled her car up to the curb to wait for us.

"Took you long enough," Mike said as we got in.

"Mike! Give it a rest!" Jackie scolded him.

Connie and I climbed in the back. She snuggled up next to me and kissed me on the cheek, saying softly, "I like how you eat my pussy."

Jackie must have heard her because she commented, "I'm jealous, Connie. He-man up here refuses to do that for me."

"If you want your pussy licked so bad, why not let Bob do it since he's so good at it!" Mike snapped. "He is a lesbo, after all."

"Well, maybe, I should!" Jackie shot back.

"Yeah, Mike, maybe she should!" yelled Connie.

"Hey, leave me out of this," I said.

We rode the rest of the way back south in silence. Connie had her hand on my cock, squeezing it the entire way back.

As we neared the Pavillion, I spoke up. "Hey, were you guys wanting to go to Mother Fletcher's or head back to the room?"

"What the fuck is Mother Fucker's?" Mike asked.

"Mother Fletcher's," Jackie corrected him. She had grown up in Conway, South Carolina, which was only a few miles inland. So, she knew Myrtle Beach even better than I did. "It's a bar. Let's go back and drop the car off and walk."

"It's ten blocks, one way," I explained.

"Maybe we can get a ride down with someone," Jackie offered. "If we're going to Mother's, we don't need to be driving. I plan to get shit-faced."

"Good idea," I agreed.

When we got back to the room, Mike declared a cease-fire. "We all need to mellow the fuck out," he said, as he dug out his bag of weed and rolled up a joint. We sat outside on the balcony and smoked it, passing it around from person to person. Connie swore she'd never smoked grass before, but willingly participated. By the time the joint was only a roach, we were all feeling mellow as fuck.

The four of us went downstairs and started walking along Ocean Boulevard. Ten blocks may not sound all that far, but it is, especially when you're half baked and three-quarters drunk. After about two blocks, the traffic started picking up. There were a bunch of young people cruising, with the hatches open and loud music blaring.

"Hey, let's jump in!" Jackie suggested, grabbing Mike's hand and pulling him out into the street. They sat down in the back of a Toyota Celica and started talking to the people in the car, who were all friendly.

"Are you sure it's ok to just jump in someone's car?" Connie asked me.

"Yeah, that's why they have their hatches open," I told her. "It's like an open invitation. Come on!"

We darted out and jumped in the back of a silver 1979 AMC AMX. "Mind if we ride along?" I asked.

"No problem!" shouted a girl who looked to be about our age. "Want a beer?"

"Sure! Thanks!" I replied. The girl in the back seat opened a cooler, pulled out two silver bullets, put them in coozies, tossed one to Connie, then the other to me.

I popped open my beer and smiled at Connie as she did the same.

"I'm Bob!" I shouted over the helicopter in Pink Floyd's Happiest Days of Our Lives. "This is my girlfriend, Connie."

"I'm Audrey," the girl in the back said. "That's Steve, my boyfriend driving, and my best friend Alexa, next to him. Don't mind her; she took some acid."

"Cool!" I replied. I'd tried acid twice and loved it.

"Want some?" Audrey asked. "Ten bucks for a purple microdot."

I was tempted. If I had been alone, I would have done it. "No, thanks. We're cool."

"Five bucks for a joint, already rolled," she offered next.

"No, thanks," I replied.

"Quaaludes?"

"You have ludes?"

Audrey gave me a knowing grin and a nod.

"How much?"

"Ten for one or two for fifteen."

"Give me two!" I said as I pulled the money out of my wallet. Connie seemed concerned, but I reassured her. "For later, don't worry."

Just then, Another Brick in the Wall Pt 2 came on, and we all started singing along at the top of our lungs.

"We don't need no education!" I shouted, looking to Connie, who smiled and sang with me. "We don't need no thought control!"

The music was so loud, everyone we passed turned and joined in the song. Even the people in the car behind us sang along.

The drive was slow, but it beat walking. By the time we finished Goodbye Blue Sky and started on Empty Spaces, we had reached the Pavillion. When the car came to a stop, I jumped out and pulled Connie with me. "Thanks for the ride!" I shouted.

Steve and Audrey waved, but Alexa just giggled. She was tripping hardcore. I was slightly envious.

When we reached the sidewalk, we found Mike and Jackie looking at hats.

"Is the sun too much for your bare scalp?" I asked, pointing at Mike's balding widow's peak. "It's getting pretty red."

Mike immediately began examining his head in a mirror. He bought a cap and tucked it into his back pocket.

"Hey," I shouted, getting everyone's attention. "There's a band at the Magic Attic tonight. Want to do that instead?"

Everyone came over to check out the marquis.

"That could be fun," Connie offered.

Mike put his arm around my girlfriend and said, "I could go for some hot cock in hole, I mean, rock and roll."

"What's the band?" Jackie asked, ignoring Mike.

"Never heard of them," I replied. "Cinderella. What kind of band is named Cinderella?"

"Looks like a bunch of fags, if you ask me," Mike said, pointing at the poster, which showed four guys with big hairdos and colorful, glam outfits.

"Let's not and say we did," chimed in Connie.

"How about we don't and say we didn't," Mike replied, grinning.

So, we decided. Cinderella was out. I regretted that choice a year later when they released their triple platinum album Night Songs and were all over MTV. Instead, we crossed the street and made our way to Mother Fletcher's.

Chapter 5

Mother's was packed, and there was a line waiting to get in. Everyone was young, hot, and dressed in shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops. Many of the girls had on swimsuits, but it was common for them to leave the tops off under their t-shirts. The line looked daunting. Wave 104.1 was broadcasting from the inside, which only added to the crowd.

"Fuck," Mike exclaimed. "This is going to take forever."

We got in line, and I excused myself. "Hey, you guys wait here, I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" Connie asked. I don't think she wanted me to leave her, especially with Mike. I kissed her cheek and told her I'd be right back. I walked up to the front of the line where I had seen someone I thought I recognized, and I wanted to make sure.

It turned out I did know him. He was a buddy and one-time roommate named Rick, from back when I used to spend my summers at Myrtle Beach. Two minutes later, I came back, then escorted my friends around the waiting line and into the bar.

"You're not completely useless after all," Mike said as he patted me on the back. "I'll buy you a drink."

Wow. Mike was going to buy me a drink. That was a first. "You get the first round," he added. Ok, that was more like Mike the Mooch.

The bar was slam full of people partying their asses off. I waited, three deep at the bar, to order drinks. I noticed that many people were getting shooters. The popular ones seemed to be Kamikazes and something called a Russian Quaalude. I'd never heard of that one before, but it looked interesting. A girl next to me just drank one, so I leaned over and asked her, "What the hell is a Russian Quaalude?"

"Best drink ever!" she replied.

"What's in it?" I asked.

She smiled and shook her head. "Fuck if I know, but it will fuck you up!"

It turns out it was a layered shooter made of Kahlua, Frangelico, Bailey's Irish Cream and Vodka. I ordered eight of them. I figured the first one would be gone quickly, so we'd need another. I watched the bartender make them. He put eight test tubes in a small bucket and then poured the booze in, starting with the densest and ending with the vodka. What you were left with was a test tube full of alcohol, in four bands, Kahlua on the bottom, then the Frangelico, followed by Bailey's and topped with Stolichnaya.

I gave the bartender a twenty and told him to keep the change. It was 1985. The shooters were only two bucks each. Twenty dollars went a hell of a lot farther back then.

I headed back to where I'd left Connie, but she wasn't there. I walked around looking for my friends and finally found Jackie standing against a rail talking to a guy in a neon-orange Mother Fletcher's T-Shirt and yellow board shorts. When she saw me, she stepped away from the guy, saying, "Maybe we can later." He must have assumed I was Jackie's date, because he gave me a dirty look, then drifted away into the crowd.

"Where are Mike and Connie?" I asked as I handed Jackie one of the test tubes, looking around for my girlfriend.

Jackie pointed to the dancefloor with her drink before tilting it back and downing it in one shot. It took me a minute to find her, and when I did, I was less than thrilled. Connie dancing with Mike. The song Shout, by Tears for Fears, was blasting out of the loudspeakers. Mike had Connie pulled up against his body, crotch to crotch, hands on her hips as they swayed rhythmically back and forth.

"Oh, wow, that was good!" exclaimed Jackie. I turned back, and she dropped her empty tube into the bucket and pulled out another. I set them down, pulled one out for myself, raised it, and poured it in my mouth. It was delicious and dangerous. You couldn't taste the booze at all, nor was it overly sweet. I could drink a lot of those things before blacking out and puking for two days if I wasn't careful.

"What are we drinking?" Mike asked, surprising me by suddenly materializing. He and Connie were slightly out of breath from dancing. He had his hand on her ass. I offered them both one of the shooters.

"It's called a Russian Quaalude," I explained. "Russian because it has Stoli vodka in it and quaalude because it can knock your ass out!"

"You mean like the pills you bought from the girl in the car earlier and stuck in your pocket?" Connie asked.

"Dude," Mike interjected. "You got ludes?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Legit ludes?"

"Looks like it to me," I said. "Round, white pill with Lemmon 714 on it."

"And you're Bogarting them? I thought we were friends."

I pulled one out and broke it in half, giving Mike both halves. "There, you take half and give the other half to Jackie."

"I don't want it," she replied immediately.

Mike grinned and popped both halves in his mouth. He grabbed one of the test tubes and washed the bits of pill down with his shot. "Now, it really is a Russian Quaalude!"

"Can I have one?" Connie asked. That surprised me, too. She'd never struck me as having any interest in drugs. With a broken heart, I broke my last Lude in half, snapping it along the nice little premade groove, then handed one to Connie and popped the other half in my mouth, dry throating it.

She put it on her tongue, then started grimacing, waving her hands for a drink. I handed her one of the test tubes, and she drained it.

Connie and I danced for a while. The music was a mix of top 40 and rock that I didn't mind dancing too. Thank God it wasn't disco. She seemed to be getting very mellow. Mixing ludes with booze was generally considered a bad idea since the alcohol could amplify the sedative effect, but I figured she was ok, having taken only half of one. She seemed to be enjoying the feelings she was experiencing. If anything, it seemed to make her more affectionate and playful.

We were grinding against each other, crotch to crotch, just like she had with Mike. My cock was hard, and she felt it, pressing herself harder against me. If she felt mine, she had to have felt Mike's, based on his rumored epic size. I was about to ask her when she declared, "I need a drink!"