The Gift Memory Lane

Author's Note:

My stories are about sex and drugs in the late 1970's and early 1980's; long before AIDS, which put a halt to our lifestyle. I certainly wouldn't condone doing anything like what we did in the past now. These days unprotected sex, drugs, or throwing vibrator batteries in with the trash is dangerous and should be discouraged. If this upsets you, or you're one of the gutless Anon's that snivel about sex and drugs please feel free to stop now and don't read this or any other of my stories!

NOMUFFTOOTOUGH

*****

My wife has always saved mementos from special dates and occasions for as long as I have known her. Way before 'Scrap-Booking' became popular she was saving matchbooks from weddings, menus from fine restaurants, and other little tokens of times long gone. When scrap booking became popular it was a hobby made with my wife in mind. She still has the program from her high school prom, so it shouldn't have been a surprise when I came across her 'special' stash of mementos.

It was the day after my wife left for an extended visit to her sister. She had been complaining forever about the state of her closet, wanting one of those fancy modular systems that are all the rage on the many Do-It-Yourself cable programs. I am a retired engineer, so I decided to surprise her by installing one of the nicer systems while she was gone.

The first thing I had to do in order to install the new system was to remove everything from her closet; going so far as to move all of the hanging clothes into mover's boxes, made with hanger bars installed, so as not to wrinkle or soil anything. My plan was to work methodically; clearing my way to the back, boxing shoes and accessories separately so as to not mix anything up; remove the existing shelves and clothes poles; locate the studs, then patch and sand any holes in the wall, prime and paint and then begin the new installation.

I was clearing the top shelf that ran around the perimeter of the eight foot by eight foot walk-in closet just above the clothes poles, filled with shopping bags, rectangular wicker storage baskets and shoe boxes, some full to overflowing and few very nearly empty, when I came across her special stash of mementos, quite by accident. I had grabbed the loops of a shopping bag with one hand and the handle on a rectangular wicker basket next to it with the other, and pulled. The bag was lighter than expected and trying to compensate I gave the basket a quick tug and stepped back.

The basket tumbled down onto the carpeted floor, spilling a large portion of its contents out like a cornucopia of what turned out to be memories of an era long past. My first reaction was 'Oh shit' what broke; followed closely by 'She is gonna be so pissed at me!' However, upon closer inspection it didn't seem as though anything had broken. There were several items strewn about the floor along with her favorite raffia sun bonnet. The first thing that caught my eye when I knelt down to gather up the contents of the basket was a large safety pin; and by large I mean six inches long and an inch wide. Then, as I looked around at some of the other items, I realized what I was looking at and the flood gates opened, and memories of that time in our lives came rushing back!

The closet is finished, but now that I discovered my wife's mementos I have a new project, to write about what each item meant to me. The following is a list of the items I could remember having any significance to me, along with a paragraph or two about what I recall about some of them. My ultimate goal is to write a story about each item I recognized and why it was there, as best I can recall, in some semblance of chronological order. I will fill in the details of each item later on in separate stories, along with a little more background; hopefully not so much as to distract from the stories, just enough to help the context of the stories flow.

I wrote 'The Gift' in 2000 and submitted it to another adult site and to Penthouse Letters, who printed their edited version in their annul Wife Watchers edition in November of that year, in the Sloppy Seconds section.

Once upon a time, a long, long, time ago, (The mid-seventies to the mid-eighties; the decade before AIDS and the worst that could happen was a dose of the clap, which I will always remember fondly as 'the good old days'!) my wife had used that safety pin to secure several very short little wrap-around skirts and dresses. Then, under a wide variety of circumstances, and usually after my wife and I had been out at some nightclub or bar, or hotel lounge, she would let some guy pick her up and remove the pin.

The first time that comes to mind was when my wife let some businessman pick her up in a hotel lounge over by the Ontario airport while I was sitting across the bar. An hour later they were in his room where the guy accidentally stabbed her in the thigh with it in his haste to get her skirt off. From that night on my asking if she had been 'pinned' became our little joke. We weren't talking about some fraternity pin; it was a way of asking whether or not she'd gotten laid.

Speaking of fraternity pins, one of our favorite pastime was picking up hitchhikers on and around the many campuses in the LA area! That was one of the first few fantasies we'd read about and then later adapted, but with our own little twist. Back then it seemed like you saw someone hitchhiking almost any time you were out driving. We would cruise the main drags around the local university's; Cal-Poly Pomona and UC Riverside, and a few others, depending on where we were going. She had all these little pleated plaid skirts in several of the school colors that she would wear, along with a plain white blouse that was tied just below her breasts and a pair of white gym shoes or Mary Jane's with two-inch heels.

Then there was the time that we ended up hitchhiking! It was late Saturday night, early Sunday morning. We'd been out playing The Game (successfully) and couldn't wait to get home and fuck. I pulled off the main drag and parked in a darkened strip mall parking lot. As luck would have it, I couldn't get the car started again afterward. My wife had ventured out to the sidewalk while I moved things to the trunk to avoid tempting anyone from breaking in. While I was moving things around some guy in a '65 GTO pulled up next to my wife to offer her a ride; probably because of the way she was dressed.

Allow me to back up a bit further. My wife and I are both seventies grads from the same California university, which was where we first met. It was my first week back in school after a ten year hiatus which started when an uncle of mine sent me on a two year, all expenses paid, trip to southeast Asia. She was this beautiful young long legged salon blonde that always wore unbelievably short dresses and skirts, who had enrolled in two of the same classes as I. She was a business major. Mine was engineering. I struck up a conversation with her the first chance I got. Luckily for me, she prefers older men, because I'm twelve years her senior. A year and a half later we were married!

Another pinned skirt memory that came to mind was of our one-and-only double date. It wasn't anything we had planned, and neither of our 'dates' was aware that we even knew each other, much less that we were married. I'd taken my 'date' to this sports bar, where my wife got her coke, because my date had let it be known that some coke would make for a special evening. My wife had been as surprised to see me as I was to see her. Over the course of a half dozen or so games of pool the girls sort of bonded and the four of us eventually ended up naked in my wife's date's hot tub.

Several matchbooks lay strewn about, a matchbook from the Gobbler Motel and Supper Club just east of Madison Wisconsin, where we spent a long weekend in November of 1980; and two from the Beverly Wilshire hotel, one of our more popular 'Game' venues from 1978 through the early 1980's. It was also my wife's favorite places to play, as she would usually end up rubbing way more than elbows with some very well known men. Another matchbook was from her best friend and boss Joan's wedding. That was the first time she fucked a stranger! Well, he was a stranger to us the time, but not for long. It turned out the guy was an executive vice-president of the bank group that Joan and my wife worked for!

There were two ticket stubs for a movie that my wife had scored a (very) minor part in; no lines, she was eye candy. She had doubled up late one Saturday night, early Sunday morning. We had already successfully played The Game but had car trouble on the way home. The guy that had picked us up and drove us to an all night restaurant became a quasi-regular for a while and set her up with about a half dozen auditions, which gave her the opportunity to discover that role play and acting weren't the same thing! We'd gone to the premier, which was very exciting for both of us, and then we had also been two of a very small group of people later on that had actually paid to see it!

There was a poker chip from the original Horseshoe Casino in Vegas, our first time with another couple. We met them in the registration line and ended up spending most of the weekend in their room.

A name tag and a wooden nickel were from a business trip I took to a late June of 1978. I had attended the Computer World conference in a Chicago suburb right by O'Hare Field. My wife flew in for a mini-vacation, the first of dozens of times on her or my business trips that some guy unwittingly introduced my wife to me, thinking that we didn't know each other. For some inexplicable reason that scenario has always been a huge turn-on for me, and a prelude to many threesome's! The wooden nickel, from Harold's Pool Parlour, was from that same mini-vacation. Some guy who had maybe an eight-ball of coke, ended up burying his coke covered dick balls deep in my wife's pussy with her bent over a pool table.

I'm not sure which of our Vegas adventures the poker chip is commemorating, because we've usually gone to Vegas three maybe four times a year, under the 'what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas' mantra, at least ten before some ad agency ever thought of it! One particularly memorable time that came to mind was when we met a couple while in line waiting to check in, and hit it with them pretty well. Then purely by accident, they were in front of us that evening in the restaurant queue. We ended up in their room after dinner, for drinks; and then stayed for the rest of the night. We still see Rita and Lawrence occasionally to this day, but now we're just close friends! Back then they lived on the ocean between San Diego and Black's Beach where, on one occasion, we ran into four college aged young men. They claimed that they were there to play volleyball, but spent most of the time boning Rita and my wife!

During one of our earlier trips to Vegas, about a year into The Game, we discovered the Adult Bookstore in Victorville, quite by accident. It was late on a Friday night. We had planned an overnight in Vegas. I ended up getting home much later than we had hoped. Rather than wait until Saturday morning, or cancel the trip altogether, we had decided go anyway; and it was 9 pm when we left Ontario for Vegas. About an hour later my stomach started grumbling. I managed to talk my wife, who was dressed to entertain the truckers, into looking for somewhere to grab a quick bite to eat, and by sheer luck I picked Palmdale Road, and our first bookstore visit.

There was a name tag, one of those 'Hello, My Name Is...' from a Chicago area computer conference we had attended back in the late 70's, when the company I worked for was in the midst of computerizing our conveyor systems. I had made a deal with my boss, incorporating a little mini-vacation between a three day business conference and a week long programming class I attended. I won't bore you with the details of the 'Small Computers / Large User Operations' conference other than to say that the deal was that my company would fly my wife to Chicago for the time in between venues, rather than me home and back. There was no difference in cost to the company! The inn where the conference was being held wasn't the nicest place I'd ever stayed at - enough said about that, other than someone had mentioned that Gene Autry was the owner, or maybe part owner! The real memories are from the nights after my wife flew in for a mini- vacation between the two events. Her first evening there she went down to the lounge before me and a half hour later one of the guys I'd met at the conference introduced me to Cecelia!

The second evening was just us; exploring an adult theater with peep show booths on the second floor. The wooden nickel was from when we got together with two guys from the conference that took us to a pool hall not far from where we were staying. I'm pretty sure my wife did close to half of the eight-ball of coke they brought, and I watched as she did them and two other guys.

The last night we played a prospective client pointed out my wife, sitting across the room from us, and later that evening I agreed that she could go with him to his motel to fetch some coke.. She staggered back just after sun up the next morning, looking like she'd been the repository for an all night gang bang! The prick had, according to his boastings' to my boss, had her semi-anesthetized with coke cut with Quaalude as her led her from a bar to an adult bookstore; after they started the night with a trip to a private club where he was a member.

As for the Dodger cap, Just like Tommy Lasorda I'm a 'Cut-me-and-I-bleed-Dodger-Blue' guy! There's a lot more to this story, but basically, for the night of my wife's twenty-third birthday I set her up with the biggest cock I have ever seen as part of her birthday present! Happy Birthday to her!

And then there was our last wild 'Game' trip - to San Francisco. There was no memento, but it was our last really wild adventure; my wife's thirtieth birthday, in July of 1985. We spent a week in San Francisco. A working vacation for me; a real vacation for my wife. While we were there my wife, as Cecelia, auditioned for and then stripped at the O'Farrell Theater. Her audition was on a Monday, and then for two of the nights we were there, she got paid to strip and then for lap dances afterward with members of the audience while porn movies were being shown in a small theater with stadium seating. She worked three shows a night, including the night of her thirtieth birthday when the night manager, who claimed to be a published author, a thin, balding guy with a huge cock screwed her twice across the course of the evening in the cabanas.

I also want to mention a 'Joanie's Butterfly' which was an external mechanical vibrator that she often wore when we went out together to play. The vibrator sat lodged in between her pussy lips and up against her clit. Before dumping batteries was prohibited we put a huge dent in the local landfill with discarded batteries from that thing before it finally died; and by then the wireless remote models were out and I had total control of the thing. Ah, the good old days!