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Stimulating Stories About Couples Sex
A Compilation of Literate Erotica
Californicated - Part I
by Harry Merkin
This
short story is a work of
fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents
either are the product of
the author’s vivid
imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual human
beings, living or dead,
business enterprises,
events or locales is
entirely coincidental.
That rubia chingagada
(fucked up blond) was sooooooo easy. You know what I mean? She saw my
parked car and waited for me. Who knows how long? She really liked my Día de los Muertos
(Day of the Dead) paint job and all that chrome. She claimed to be an
artist though she couldn’t draw a stick figure. But man, oh man, was
she an artista in bed!
Her legs were so long, her pussy so sweet, her tits to die for. Her lips, what couldn’t she do with those lips!
All the vatos (guys) warned me.
I just thought they were jealous. Yeah, I know Eh Lay is full of such
girls. They all come from Iowa or Nebraska and they want to be noticed. Las Sajonas
(Saxons, Germans) get noticed all right. They are spotted by fat old
creeps with small desks and a large casting couch. How do those pendejos get away with it? Why do those girls still fall for that crap? You see them in all the fancy restaurants, Señor Pendejo all over Señorita Pendanga. Es mierda – pura mierda. (it’s crap, pure crap)
Let me tell you about our first 24 hours. That was the best
part - the only part I want to remember. It went totally downhill to the Port of San Pedro after that.
6 PM
“Is this your car?”
“Yeah. You like it?
“It’s great! Why all the skeletons?”
“It’s my way of honoring the Día de los Muertos.”
“It’s so cool. I know about the Day of the Dead.”
“You know any Spanish?”
“Un poquito, (a little bit) from working at restaurants."
She points to an ornate ‘G’ on the trunk, “Your car has a ‘G’ spot.”
“It’s my initial.”
She extends her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. G.”
I shake her hand, “It’s my nickname, Gavilán.”
“What does that mean?"
"A bird of prey."
"So, why do they call you that?”
“Because I eat chicks!”
“You sure don’t beat around the bush.”
She’s hungry and suggests Korean tacos. She must be a foodie tourist. ¡Caramba! She ate 7 of them! “Were they starving you in some basement?”
“I was on a diet to lose weight for a movie. I didn’t get the part.”
7 PM
“How long have you been in LA?”
“Three fucking years.”
“There are good fucks and there are bad fucks.”
“Mine were mostly bad.”
“Have you thought about going back home?”
“I can’t. Like a good Viking I burned my ships.”
“If we leave now, we could see an amazing sunset. Hop in”
----------
I take her to my big project, off Bel Air Road. As I punch in the gate code, she says, “Sammy is in Europe.”
“You know Sammy?
“Yeah, I do some movie work with him.”
We get to the pool terrace just before sunset and my mosaic mural is lit perfectly.
“Wow. That wasn’t here a month ago. Is that a train car?”
8 PM
“It’s a full scale New York subway car, mid-1970s vintage. Sammy wanted
it to look like he had spray-painted the graffiti himself.”
“Was Sammy in a gang?”
“Sammy? Not likely. He just wanted to leave his mark on subway cars, but
never did. He told me he was a total klutz as a teenager and that even
if he had gotten anywhere near a parked one, he would
have ended up with most of the paint on himself. He and his brother
would
draw page after page of their own graffiti. This is based on his
favorite drawings.”
“You did all this?”
“Yeah. I cast the 1 meter square units at La Fortaleza (the fortress),
our place out in Riverside county, and then added the tile and rock chips.
It took over one year.”
“This is so beautiful. How did you get those colors? How did you learn how to do this. You’re so young.”
“My abuelo (grandfather) came here from San Luis Potosí. His parents
apprenticed him to a tile setter who had come from the same village. He eventually started his own business and would
take the unused and broken tile back to La Fortaleza. We now have piles
of every possible color along the entire perimeter fence. Those were my
jigsaw puzzle pieces while growing up. He taught me how to cast the
concrete bases and secure the tile chips with mortar and finish with
grout. When I was 12, I started selling them along our highway frontage
on weekends, as patio tables. Except for the four years at Berkeley,
I’ve been doing this since I was 6 years old.”
She walks toward the mural. Touches it, as if to make sure it isn’t a
mirage, stands back, and I can’t decide if she is sad or angry. “You
took Sammy’s fantasy and created art. Sammy and I take the fetish
fantasies of rich guys and make custom porn flicks. We make trash. You
make art, real art.”
9 PM
We embrace, kiss, and hold each other until it is dark, ignoring the breathtaking panorama of Los Angeles.
“What are your fantasies, Gavilán?”
“My dreams, aspirations, or fantasies?”
“Your sexual fantasies. The ones you imagine when you masturbate.”
“Usually, I just remember a particular girl I’ve known and recall a specific episode.”
“Don’t you have sexual fantasies?”
“Yes, a few. But I’ve never told anyone.”
“Tell me one that we could act out.”
(second installment posted on Halloween, 31 October, 2019)
10 PM
"I'll tell you the one that haunts me. It was a too brief meeting of two minds and a roof-top meeting of two bodies."
"Now
I really want to hear it. ... Tell me the whole story. ... Tell it
slowly while you hold me. ... I want to feel what you felt."
"An uncle got me an incredible waiter job in Gourmet Ghetto soon
after I arrived in Berkeley. The tips were so good that I could afford a
top floor apartment with a distant view of the Golden Gate bridge, as
well as a vintage muscle car.
"On my way to a Halloween party in my junior year, I saw her removing black and
orange ribbons braided onto the wisteria stems climbing the iron fence
immediately to the right of the entrance to Alice's restaurant. I was in
costume and said to her, "My, my, what a tangled web you do unweave?"
"She
turned to me nonchalantly, eyed me from helmet to pointy toed boot,
and smiled. I was immediately smitten. It was lust at first sight."
"Do
you imply I deceive or undeceive? I want these ribbons to embellish my
hair. And what the hell is that on your head? It looks like part of a
samovar."
"It is a helmet of a Conquistador."
"If you intend to rape and pillage, I'm not in the mood."
"The carrier of my Y-chromosome probably wore such a helmet when Tenochtitlan was sacked. I wear it ironically."
"Should I call you Cortez? Or stout Cortez?"
"Keats was referring to Balboa on that peak in Darien."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Okay, I like the ring of stout Cortez."
"Well, stout Cortez, since you seem sober and use big words, I think you'll do."
"Do for what?"
"I've been stood up and have waited here more than an hour. I'm late for a party and need a date."
"What kind of party?"
"A Halloween party, you dolt. Or are you dressed like this to see the Easter bunny or Santa Claus?"
"No, I should have asked, where is it, who is the host, and what sort of people will be there?"
"Your
life will not be endangered, though your sanity might suffer. The host
is the rotund pedant I want as my dissertation advisor. The venue is the big heap
he calls home, and the guests will be his acolytes and would-be
acolytes."
"Great! I'll go with you."
"By the way, I told him I was coming with a guy named, Ivan. That will be your name while we are there."
"Have I told you how much I admire Ivan the Terrible?"
"God, I hope you don't embarrass me."
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"We take off on foot and within a block she takes my hand (to slow me down) and hold hands the rest of the way."
"I should probably warn you about the host and the others."
"Didn't you state there would be no danger?"
"Did you forget my comment about sanity?"
"Do they play mind games, or worse?"
"Worse. They are mesmerized by Postmodernism. So don't be snarky."
"Me? Snarky? Don't be silly. I do read Michel Foucault ... though only when I want to fall asleep."
"Yeah, he puts me to sleep as well."
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"They
were definitely navel-gazers and nihilists, but they did know how to
have a good time. Alcohol consumption really improved them and there was
no mention of their academic work, nor their French demigods.
"She
asked me near midnight if I wanted to leave. We walked out into a
downpour and quickly decided to go to my place because it was closer.
"We
were drenched; leaving puddles in the lobby and elevator. We ran into
the bathroom of my apartment, undressed, left our clothes dripping over
the bathtub and she asked for a tour of the place after we had dried
ourselves. She looked so good naked. I was aroused but she said nothing
about it.
"She
was curious about the ladder secured to the wall between the living
room and kitchen. I climbed it, opened the hatch in the ceiling, and
went into my enclosed sleeping loft with west windows. She followed me.
"I
turned on the heater and handed her the binoculars. She first
identified the Coit Tower, then the Golden Gate bridge, the lights of
Sausalito, the marinas, and Tiburon. She kept scanning and finally saw
the silhouette of Alcatraz.
"She placed the binoculars on the shelf below the window, turned to me, and held my penis."
"Remember when I said I wasn't in the mood when you caught me stealing ribbons? I've changed my mind."
"We
started kissing, then French kissing, then she knelt and gave me a
long, slow blowjob. She sucked my balls and resumed with my dick."
"Do you have rubbers, stout Cortez?"
"Under the back corner of the mattress."
"How many girls do you bring up here?"
"Quite a few, though most of them have been impenetrable."
"That is such a funny way to phrase that. You may tongue me as a reward."
"She got on the old iron bed, slid to the center of the mattress and spread her legs. I began
tonguing and sucking her earlobes, then her breasts and nipples, and
took my time reaching her pussy. It didn't take long before she climaxed and we did it several more times."
"Do you have rope?"
"I'm glad you asked. There are four lengths of cotton rope in the nightstand."
"Just four?"
"Why not four? Do we not have but two arms and two legs?"
"But what about one for the neck?"
(third installment posted on the Ides of November, 2019)
"I've started to experiment with bondage, not choking. Why did you ask about rope, do I look like the type who ties up girls?"
"It's
your bed. The other two guys I've known with antique iron beds were
also into bondage. I guess the three of you have watched the same porn."
"I found this bed on the roof when I cut the opening for the hatch and later built the loft around it."
"Aren't you the handy one."
"I like working with my hands." (as I fondled her nipples)
"So, where again is the rope?"
"In the nightstand over there, under the semen-colored towels."
"Yuck. That sounds gross. What kind of towels do you have?"
"The beige towels I place on the bed to catch drippings. Don't worry, the ones in the nightstand are clean."
"You think of everything."
"Not really. I constantly think of only one thing." (as I move the tip of my penis up and down between her labia)
"Guys are all the same."
"I'd like to think I'm unique."
"You
might be distinct from the waist up. But you are all the same below the
belt. Lets put a towel on the bed and take out the rope."
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"I've done this and had it done to me a few times. Anyway, it's your rope, don't you know how to use your own equipment?"
"I'd better be careful how I answer that."
"Answer as though I'm referring to your rope, not to your equipment that is pointing at me and dripping precum."
"I've used the ropes a total of three times with two different girls."
"That
being the case, I have more experience, so I'll tie you first. Then
we'll sleep for a while and you can tie me up before breakfast. Do you have a safe word?"
"We've used 'red' and 'green' for 'stop' and 'go'."
"You are so unoriginal."
"What is your safe word?"
"Shunga."
"Gesundheit."
"You are so sophomoric. Shunga is Japanese erotic art from 300 years ago."
"Is it any good?"
"I love it. It is elegant and spare and naughty enough for my tastes."
"We
got one bath towel and the four lengths of rope. I laid on the towel
and steeled myself. She tied my feet together and secured the end of
that rope. She then tied my arms to each end of the headboard and made a
noose but left it to one side."
"You
won't be motionless, just severely limited. The restrictions are to
enforce deferred gratification. I'll forestall your orgasm longer than
you think possible; far longer. We shall embark on a painstaking
exploration and ultimately discover the Urheimat (original homeland) of your orgasms. I'll have you agog and desperately unfulfilled. At the end, you will explode when I decide it is time."
"I was attentive; entranced actually. I knew I was in the hands of a true master of this craft. She did not disappoint."
"Close your eyes, or should I fashion a blindfold?"
"I'll close my eyes."
"She
placed one finger on the tip of my penis and spread the bead of
moisture with such delicacy and such erotic effect. What she did had
absolutely no semblance to foreplay. She spent the first hour touching,
caressing, licking, and completely exploring my penis. She traced the
veins and bumps and ridges as though reading Braille. She created a
mental erotic map of my erection and learned where to return and where
to avoid.
She
found every sweet spot and lingered to extract all possible sensations.
She exhausted each nerve ending and then proceeded very slowly to the
next one. And then the next one. And so her explorations continued.
"I was enthralled.
"She never said a word. At one point she lifted my head and placed the noose around my neck.
"She maintained me on the brink of ejaculating for so long. I both longed for that consummation and wished it would not come.
"She
further constricted the noose. All of my being was concentrated in my
penis (though ex-girlfriends would tell you that was always the case).
Nothing else mattered or existed. I was a throbbing perpendicular,
feeling only her spellbinding touch, the pulsations of systole and
diastole, and the overwhelming anticipation of unimaginable ecstasy.
"And
so she continued to tease my penis within and without her vagina. Her
mind was at once within me and without me. She knew everything about my
sexual organ and the detonation
to be delayed. She knew when to fondle and when not to fondle. She
knew when to suck and when not to suck. She knew when to slip me within
and when to lift herself free.
"I was suspended in a moment that would not end. She kept torturing me with intense pleasure and I could not get enough.
"Her vagina squeezed me rhythmically and a different moment began; the moment of climax.
"The
sudden relief, the contractions, commenced. I felt all of me, every single cell, exiting
through a narrow pore and filling her warm and wet embrace. More of me departed in manic fits and spurts.
"The pleasure was the sum of every ejaculation I had ever experienced.
"And then nothing.
"I was nowhere and then I was hovering over our shimmering selves, watching her chain of orgasms.
"Again there was nothing. It was neither sepulchral nor eternal.
"It was nothing.
"I
felt her pinching my nose and blowing air into me. She was screaming
when not blowing as I regained consciousness. She kept filling my lungs
as I gasped and hoarsely asked her to untie me."
(fourth installment posted on 30 November 2019)
11 PM
"That fucking bitch could have killed you."
"She
didn't, obviously. Please don't speak about her like that. It was an
accident. She began having orgasms and was distracted. We believe the
end of the noose rope got caught under her knee."
"I'll
never forget the anguish contorting her face. Through teary eyes she
beheld me with a softness I had previously seen only from my mother.
Her repeated words of contrition were unnecessary. Her face conveyed
that and more. We spoke softly, with a tenderness seen only in
long-married couples, for the remainder of that night. We slept and
awoke suddenly
as dawn lit the fog bank advancing across the bay and reflected a
mellow light into our loft. She looked into my eyes and whispered,
"Thus begins the rest of your life."
"We embraced
for a long while. I saw nothing but her eyes and knew we would become
close. We kissed tenderly, so very tenderly. I eventually said to her,
"I am so hungry for you. I want to make love to you forever."
"So, my stout Cortez, how do you want to start this?"
"Not like last night. I'm completely cured of using ropes."
"I'm not. Don't look at me like that! I use ropes almost every weekend rock climbing."
"You, my fair philosopher? How did you fall in with that crowd?"
"I
know what you mean.
I looked askance at them in their booth during the first week of
freshman year. One of them asked if I wanted to monkey around. He
immediately blushed and I knew he was harmless. They are all harmless
and fun to be with. I had so much in common with them. I came from the
Volvo-people of Mill Valley. They came from the Volvo-people of Orinda,
Walnut Creek, Atherton, and
other places where parents belong to the safety cult. I yearned to do
something dangerous, breathtakingly dangerous. I was bored being safe.
Not one of my neighborhood friends or their siblings had broken an arm
while growing up. I had never been allowed to climb a tree. I was sick
of being safe as my parents defined it. That's also why I got into
bondage. I was a repressed wild child, but not any more."
"Tell me more about that later. Let's not waste this morning hard on."
"Okay, dick-brain I also want do it."
"Do you know, On First Looking into Chapman's Homer?"
"What does Keats have to do with this rooftop romp?"
"Please recite it one line at a time and pause after each line."
"I so hope this becomes really kinky."
"Ready when you are."
"Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
(as I walked my fingertips up her thigh and circled her pubis)
"And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
(as I walked my fingertips up her belly)
"Round many western islands have I been
(as I walked my fingertips around her breasts)
"Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
(as I kissed her nipples)
"Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
(as I walked my fingertips back down her belly)
"That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;
(as I kissed her labia)
"Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
(as I inhaled her scent)
"Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
(as I tongued the button of her clitoris)
"Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
(as I gazed into her eyes)
"When a new planet swims into his ken;
(as I got a condom and moved it in an arc)
"Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
(as I went in)
"He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men
(as I turned toward the Golden Gate)
"Look'd at each other with a wild surmise—
(as she had a vaginal orgasm)
"Silent, upon a peak in Darien."
(as I spilled my seed)
"I doubt Keats ever intended this."
"I guess he was playing it safe."
(as she started a pillow fight)
(fifth installment posted on 16 December 2019)
"So, how long were you two together? What part of this do you want for us to act out?"
"We were together just that night. She found out after breakfast that Ivan had been hit by a
truck while riding his bike to meet her at the restaurant. I took her to
the hospital where he was being treated and didn't see her again."
"I
want to experience an extreme orgasm like that night, but without
resorting to erotic asphyxiation. I sure don't want another out-of-body
experience."
"We have two houses in the San Pornando Valley we use as studios for
CDP. We have a couple of bondage bedrooms. We could could do it there."
"Do you mean San Fernando Valley? Who or what is CDP?"
"The San Fernando Valley has a big pornography industry, so I call it San Pornando. The studio was started before I got here. It was either Sammy or his brother who set up Cum Dump Productions."
"That's a great name for a porn operation."
"Is that opinion coming from your real brain or your dick brain?"
"I'll take the 5th."
"Yeah right. That tells me it's a dick-brain answer. (she rubs my zipper
zone) Let's warm up by skinny dipping before we drive up to the
Valley."
"Brilliant idea."
12 AM
She
does a slow strip tease while humming, using the middle flagpole for
her pole dance. As the finale, she places her panty on my head and
brings it down over my face. I quickly pull it off and sling-shoot it
back to her.
"Obviously you aren't a knicker sniffer."
"What the hell is a knicker sniffer?"
"I guess you've never seen any of our knicker sniffer fetish videos.
They are quite popular in Japan. Knickers are panties and lots of guys
enjoy smelling them while they masturbate. They even have vending
machines selling used panties, or should I call them, porn
panties?"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, Gavilán. Try it. Here, smell the front.”
"Ah yes, it's definitely an excellent vintage of Eau de
Pussy. I'm detecting floral highlights with an intense mocha and
bourbon base. But you know, I'd rather lick you than sniff these."
"That's what they all say."
1 AM
"So, are we spending the night at Cum Dump?"
"Let me call and find out. The cam girls often use the bedrooms overnight for private shows."
(to be continued in Part II)
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The End
Harry Merkin (a nom de guerre)
is a dick-brain who is more
articulate than an arthropod
and has many ways with words.
He tries desperately not to
write like Edward
Bulwer-Lytton, but often
fails.
NOTES
A. This short story is a fabrication.
B. (more to come)
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