Nailed by a Nine-Inch Dixie Boner

I halt. Definite snuffling from behind this door. I hear, "Oh, my nuts, my nuts, my nuts..."

I gingerly push open the door. By following the sound and watching out not to stub my toes or knock over something, I get to the bed.

"Steve?" he asks.

I ease myself onto the bed, lying beside him. I murmur, "No, it's me."

"Oh! Oh, God! I love you! You are my first girl! I'll always love you! I'll never forget you!"

I snuggle up.

"You saved me!"

"Not from getting your balls slammed."

A little sob. "Still hurts so, so much. I know I'll never get to sleep.

I reach down. Find them. He has thrown the covers on the floor. My hand closes over his balls. They feel very warm.

"Oh..." A moan.

I rub. He begins to sob.

He says, "I came in your mouth. That's the first time I ever came with a girl."

"Un-huh."

"I thought I would die of wanting you.."

"You want to make love?"

"Oh..." A scream. "What about him? He'll kill me!"

"Not my boyfriend," I say softly. "Just don't provoke him. He's like Johnny Yuma, "figgered he'd been pushed enough."

"What? Oh... Oh, Johnny Yuma." He is laughing.

"Never, ever laugh at him."

A long pause. "Right."

He hasn't answered my question about making love. But, on the other hand, he has a ragingly stiff dick, arching back. I hadn't even touched it! Just his balls!

I pull my knees under me and rise.

"Don't go!"

I swing my leg over him. Position the pussy target. Reach down to find the arrow that will pierce the target of truth. Much easier to accommodate than Carl. Besides, I am already creaming myself.

"Oh, God! Ellen! Oh, I love you, love you, love you.."

Can't listen to this. Aligned, I sink my loins, enveloping him, feel his curly hair against mine. Bump, full penetration. To the hilt.

He is weeping. Declaring himself. Pawing at my boobs.

Okay, well... I let myself fall forward, careful to avoid dick "fall out," and gently effect a landing of my lips on his. Is this his first kiss, too?

Yikes! He is going to eat off my lips! He is trying to devour my face.

I lift my head away before I require plastic surgery.

"What...what happened?"

"You were too rough. Just girl lips, not beef jerky."

"Oh..." He weeps.

Cheer up. I start rolling and rocking my hips, gently and persistently, grinding my mortar with his pestle. I'm getting hot.

So is he. Heavy breathing.

He is bouncing me. Not going to last long.

I feel him come in me like little heat waves.

I'm not going to get off, but it's okay. The destiny of woman. I gave in Dixieland.

Jim likes it. I make sure he is done.

I let myself fall forward. His dick slips out.

I need a kiss. I lay on him, lips pressed to his. Gentler, this time. His lips barely moving. Frankly, he couldn't care less. Came. But I indulge in some soul kissing.

A few minutes later, I roll out of his bed. He is snoring.

I grope toward the door. As I open it, I hear sounds from below. Girls shrieking. Giggling.

First the bathroom, for a shower. Dust of the cattle drive.

Hot water all over, soap in my mop.

Some wild restlessness refuses to leave me. I reach down to tease the little boy in the rowboat. No dice. My body is jumpy with energy, but not my clit.

Some yearning.

No towel. I step out of the shower naked and dripping. Open the door, grope to the stairs and go down. To Carl and his mesmerized women?

I open the front door. Naked, wet, I step into the moonlight. I have no idea where anything might be? Sand beneath my bare feet, then warm tarmac, sometimes pine needles.

This is solid road a clear 15 yards ahead, bleached in moonlight. I am walking.

Naked, but what can happen? Rape? Gang rape?

If I submit, will they feel the need to murder me?

In Provincetown, they are more likely to take me home to pose for life-drawing classes.

Oh-oh, headlights sweep over me and race down the road ahead of me.

Honking. What? I'm in the way? I'm walking in the sand.

More honking. I raised my arm, wave. Hi, there!

The car slows but passes.

Nothing more tempting or scary than a pale naked girl walking at night.

By the downward slope, I think I am headed for the ocean.

A weird, haunting call from the pine wood. Owl. Spooky. It calls again.

I run my hands down my body, breasts, belly, back to my ass...Yes, I am out stark naked on a deserted road toward the ocean.

Wait! My name! Someone calling.

Almost barking it, angrily. Clearer now, in the night air, and closer.

"Ellen! Ellen!"

Unmistakable drawl, even when shouting.

Behind me, running.

"Here," I call. "Here, Carl."

He comes fast. Suddenly, I am scared. Of violence. What will he do to me for...well...acting crazy? Behavior unbecoming his date?

With heavy breaths, he comes up. He is in trousers, bare chest. Bare feet.

He puts his arm around my shoulders. In the moonlight, I see he is frowning into my face.

He says, with infinite gentleness, "What are doing, Ellen?"

He adds, "I went upstairs. You weren't there. Nowhere."

He pulls me to him. I cuddle up. For some reason, I am crying.

"I got a flashlight, I saw where your bare feet went in the sand. I saw which way you turned onto the tarmac..."

Can't throw Carleton Beauregard Chapman off the trail that easily.

I am crying harder, now. He does not seem to find it strange.

He squeezes. "Come home, now."

And that, more or less, starts a year in psychiatric hospitals, interrupting my college education. But I never lacked for great Dixie.