Journal From Las Cruces, Part 1
(Naked Women)
By Aleq de Satyr
"A man who dwells not with women has no understanding of them".
Anon
Prologue
The narrator of this story is a gentle and gracious guy, with an artfulness that captivates women. He is never imposing or overtly aggressive. He speaks gently, smiles sweetly, and ingratiates himself with caresses. He lives for women. And women court him, love him and satisfy him completely.
He is a proud possessor of a huge, splendid cock which he uses with tender delicacy, and not like a battering cannon, that brings out of a woman's cunt festive, joyful melodies, and deep cataclysmic orgasms. Above all, he is totally virile, with a phenomenal sexual prowess that women love.
Like a visitor from another planet, he indulgently, urgently, graphically shares his experiences with the "Naked Women". Rich, powerful experiences of unusual erotic potency, and high-intensity adventures, that came from the blending of love and sex. The meeting of body and spirit, that opened up all the possibilities of human sexuality, in its many varied manifestations.
Every woman in the story was unique and different. From ripe young luscious maidens, to lusty Amazons in their prime, to mellow mature crones. They were all warm, engaging, intensely alive, vital and graceful in being at ease with their bodies, their sexuality, their pleasures.
With them he gave homage to the dark Mother, the Goddess; in the rituals of raw sex--juicy, icy-hot, perfect--that bordered on poetry. Like a wine connoisseur, he devoured their cunts, consumed their juices and drank their secrets.
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Perla...The Nympho
In mid-summer of that year, I decided to take a two month sabbatical in Las Cruces, to work on my pet humanitarian project. As events unfolded, I found myself engrossed in a wonderful, memorable encounters, some of them intertwined, with several women. The most notable ones are depicted in this journal. But not in any chronological order, nor a particular time frame.
When our eyes made contact that day I moved into the furnished apartment across the hall from hers, I knew that Perla and I would be more than just neighbors.
"Hi, I'm Perla Sanchez and I'm a dyke," she smiled. Well, that's refreshing I thought.
"And I'm Roy Dumas. I'm a het," I said.
"Well, welcome to the Mohawk apartments Roy," she said. She wore skintight leggings, low across her midriff and displaying her slender thighs, the haughty curve of her ass and the soft prominent mound between her legs, that suggested a luxuriant bush. It was an open erotic invitation to stroke that mound of flesh.
We quickly became connected as we talked candidly, and laughed over scotch and smoked salmon, after sharing a joint, in Perla's one bedroom apartment. She seemed to fit my bill of fare. I like my women hard-edged, funny, sensual and at least forty years old. Problem was, she was a lesbian although of the curious mix of Dykey-femme. She was a struggling writer, with an imagination and style Henry Miller would have envied. She also swore like a trooper.
Perla was a likeable, decadent Chicana. Good looking, cool, with a great mystique. She had a gift for words. She taught part-time at a school for mentally challenged kids, as well as worked for a publisher.
One week later, late Sunday morning, after a workout at the health club and a long shower, it was very humid in the apartment so I gave up on clothes, and walked around nude, enjoying the light breeze. I'd always enjoyed nudity anyway. It feels so natural. Suddenly Perla walked in and let out a whistle upon seeing my tumescent cock, hanging between my legs.
"Oh shit, Roy you really are hung," she muttered, staring avidly. "I also like to walk around my apartment in the nude much of the time," she said.
"Be my guest," I said. Perla hesitated at first, then quickly stepped out of her clothes. "Ok, but don't get any ideas," she warned.
I was stunned by her body: slender but curvy in the right places. She was hirsute with furry legs, and a jungle of black curls between her thighs. Her underarm hair was equally thick, and the nipples of her firm breasts were ringed with hair. I was instantly turned on! My dick sprang into a full erection of ten inches of very thick, veined, rock-hard cock.
"Oh fuck! What a magnificent dick!" she cried, beside herself, "Can I hold it?"
"Please do," I said.
She fondled it for long moments, groaning, squeezing hard, asking me if it hurts. "It sure does" I lied, "but if you let me put inside you it will stop hurting".
"Not a chance, you should be arrested for having a dick like that," she hissed, walking to the fridge to get a beer.