Nudie Magazines

***All characters are over 18 and are fictional. Any resemblance to any real-life person is purely coincidental. This story was written by an adult, for adults.

...

"What's in that box?"

Uncle Jed's garage was that uniquely southern blend of part horror film set and part well-worn garage. It had always creeped him out as a kid. Despite his father saying he'd grow out of it, his skin still goosepimpled while standing around and watching his Uncle try to diagnose the latest rattle in his family's truck. Simon still called it that despite it only being used by him to commute back and forth from his college. Simon often blamed this heap of used parts and rust for his lack of an active social life. No self-respecting lady would be caught dead in this thing.

His Uncle Jed seemed to know the exact one without lifting his head from the engine.

"Boy, that there is a time-traveling machine for your pecker. Go take a gander."

Simon knew Uncle Jed was smiling that lecherous grin of his. That grin creeped out his sisters and all of his female cousins. Nobody had ever said Uncle Jed acted inappropriately, but it always seemed in the realm of possibility.

This box was unlike any of its neighbors. Surrounded by aging oil-stained cardboard boxes, the wooden box looked more like a small footlocker. There was a moment of hesitation before Simon bent down to slide it out of the pile. The legend of Pandora's Box sprung into his developing academic mind as he looked down at it. There was a war between the tug of his ever-present horniness and the creepy vibe of the situation.

"It ain't going to bite you, boy. Just open it already."

And with a short tug, it slid out. A simple action, yet it felt like something bigger had occurred. Something unnatural made Simon's neck hairs stand up.

The wooden box was probably the only dust and grime-free object in the garage. The hinges were clean and well-oiled. It opened with the ease of a thing treasured, or more precisely, the contents inside were.

"Nudie magazines?!?" said Simon, a strong note of disappointment in his voice.

"Boys nowadays are spoiled." echoed Uncle Jed's voice off the open hood of the truck. "Y'all just tappy tap tap in your phones and poof. All the world's porn pops up. A damned cornucopia of women, all shapes and sizes, doing whatever you all type into the search bar."

Uncle Jed stood up and wiped his hands on an already filthy rag.

"But back in my day, this was all you had, and that's if you were lucky enough to find or steal one. I stole my first one from your grandpappy. He hid them all around his barn but was forever forgetting where. One had a lady made up to look like a nurse. I took it. I've had those giant white boobs burned into my brain ever since."

Simon noted this explained the parade of girlfriends that eventually all stomped out of his Uncle's screendoor. They all had two things in common, bad taste in men and giant boobs.

"So all you had was your magazines and your imagination. I don't know if young ladies have changed since, but in my day, they all held onto their assets like bank guards."

Simon would have liked to share his personal experiences on the matter, but his Uncle had an uncanny knack for seeing through any attempt at a lie. Simon wasn't a virgin. But he wasn't a Cassanova either. His experiences were limited to awkward fumblings and rushed encounters. The looming threat of getting caught in the act had always been a buzzkill.

"Go on, take a gander at one." He chuckled and returned to looking in the engine. But then a sharpness slipped into his tone, "But don't even think about stealing one from me. I will take a crowbar to your knee, boy. Favorite nephew or not."

The first thing that Simon noticed was the hair. All of that hair they had down there.

Some of them were neatly groomed and shaved into various cute shapes. Sometimes, it was wild and unruly. Simon slowly discovered he had no preference either way. Sure, he was used to clean-shaven or small patches in the videos. But he was relieved that he had found no particular kink for either extreme.

Another difference was the lack of tattoos on these women. Simon had a complicated relationship with tattoos. His high school crush had gotten one on her ankle. He had spent entirely too much time staring at her long tanned legs. Her cheerleader's skirt and that delicate rose tattoo peeking above her ankle socks had featured in many an erotic daydream. But his favorite pornstar was an energetic petite champagne-haired actress with three words tatted on her ribcage. A looping cursive style tucked under her left arm, Simon had never been able to read them. The not knowing often distracted him from all the wonderous things she was doing in her scenes and having done to her.

Simon browsed through a dozen different magazines while waiting. There was no particular order to them. The magazines covered a range of styles and decades. Some were more hardcore than others. Simon had initially assumed that the top ones would reflect his Uncle's particular tastes. But that didn't seem to be the case. Simon smiled to himself that his Uncle Jed might have an organized rotation to his stash of porn magazines.

"Found you! Slippery son of a bitch was hiding in the grime!" laughed Uncle Jed. "I get this bolt tightened, and she'll be purring like a tomcat with a can of tuna. 15-minutes max, so wipe your pecker and put it back in your pants, boy."

...

Simon admitted on the ride back to his parent's house that his Uncle had a knack. Without him, the truck would have been in the junkyard years ago. His parents probably saw that as a blessing. Simon was more comfortable with seeing it as a curse. Or at least it was kinder to his ego to blame the truck for his lack of success with the ladies.

Rounding the last bouncy dirt road corner, he noted the family house was darker than it should have been.

"Too early for everyone to be in bed," he thought as he drove up the hill toward the house. There was an out-of-town high school gymnastics meet tomorrow that his two sisters were competing in. But experience told him they'd stay up late with pre-meet jitters, not get a good night's sleep.

He climbed up the steps to the house's wrap-around porch, noting his Dad's SUV was gone. Opening the backdoor to the kitchen, he saw the folded note addressed to him in his mother's distinctive chicken scratch handwriting.

"Simon, we went ahead and took the girls to their meet early. We'll get a hotel room near there. The satellite dish broke again. The girls were bouncing all over the house without their Wi-Fi. Your father was fixing to strangle them both. It being the weekend, they won't be able to get anyone out to look at it until Monday. Go to the library if you got homework to do on your laptop. We will probably stay in the hotel Saturday night and come home Sunday. I don't think your father wants to hear the girls whining about nobody being able to reach them on their cellphones any longer than he has to. God forbid the girls ask anyone to call the houseline.

There's plenty of food in the fridge. Call us if you need anything.

Love,

Mom."

Simon absently scrolled on his useless phone while microwaving some leftover pizza. Nothing. No bars, no signal. He had an empty house, finally all to himself, but every entertainment option was gone. Worst of all, no access to porn.

There was no lying to himself. The trunk of nudie magazines had, to turn a phrase, primed the pump. Family or no family, he had planned on spending "alone time" in his room tonight. Maybe find a video of the energetic blond with her tattoo facing the other way. A plan ruined by another piece of junk his parents should have replaced by now.

Lethargically, he trudged up the stairs chewing on the pizza. His bookbag thumped on each stair as he dragged it along. The weight of the day was on the verge of completely overwhelming him. He dropped his things on the floor and kicked his sneakers off before falling back onto the unmade bed. As he finished the pizza, he watched the unmoving display of his phone through heavy eyelids.

...

The flash of heat lightning outside was the first thing to rouse him from his restless sleep. His eyes blinked open. The house was completely dark. Clicking his bedside light repeatedly, he cursed his luck.

"Wonderful. Power's out now too."

Fumbling, he removed the rest of the clothes he had fallen asleep in. With the air conditioning out now, his room was getting too warm. He opened his squeaky bedroom window. A cool breeze pushed through the gap making it more comfortable.

Simon stumbled back to bed and drifted back off to sleep.

...

When Simon awoke this time, he knew he was in a dream.

The curtain from the window was billowing a beat too slowly for real-time. The blue light that filled the room was unnatural. It filled the corners and spaces in a way that created dramatic shadows.

She was standing at the edge of the bed.

Simon struggled to describe her. She was an amalgamation of the various women from his Uncle's magazines. There was a timeless quality to her beauty. But there was also a tabula rasa quality to the form standing in the dream moonlight. She had curves but wasn't curvy, lean yet not exactly thin. Her shoulder-length hair was a tossup between blond and brown. Her eyes, which seemed to be assessing him simultaneously, were a blueish-green glow like something vaguely radioactive. Regardless of the color, the intent in them was clearly sexual.

She slowly started to walk to the side of the bed. Almost predatory in the way she paused on each jutted hip. A promise of explosive movement contained in each moment. Simon jumped quickly from the bed. A growing sexual hunger motivated him to rise, but also an undercurrent of fear of giving away a positional advantage to this dream lover. His feet had no sooner touched the floor when she reached up with a flourish to grab his hair and pull him in for a kiss.

Now was entirely different than any sex dream he had ever had.

Before, they had always seemed like the disjointed clips of a porn compilation video. Three hard thrusts from behind into that red-headed cashier from the market before loudly grunting into her. A half dozen smooth pulls up and down his cock from the tall substitute teacher from his senior year Spanish class, wearing her tight Christmas sweater, before he painted the bottom of his desk sticky. The cute dental assistant roughly riding him in the chair, hurriedly milking his load before the dentist returns. Her hand, with her crisp white fingernails, clamped over his mouth as he bucked desperately up into her as he unloaded.

However, in this one, she was controlling the languid pace. Her kisses were playful, softly biting Simon's lower lip if he tried to rush ahead. Like a trained martial artist, her hands deflected and redirected Simon's own as he clumsily pushed the slow dance of her seduction. It was an agonizing lesson, but Simon was becoming her student. She rewarded him with a soft moan when he found the right pace and pressure to touch her. Her hips and lower back were his hand's training ground. When they did drift up her smooth stomach to her breasts, she gave him a moment to show he was adapting. Soon he was an apt pupil.

Simon recognized the benefits of her sexual tutelage with each growing moment. Freed from the frenzy of rushing towards his desired release, he was experiencing all things in greater detail.

There was something in the dream woman's scent. He inhaled it as he slowly kissed down her neck.

"Was it... coconut?" He wondered as another thought began to pull at the back of his mind. Simon did not appreciate the distraction. It tugged insistently, not to be ignored.

...

Until now, the experience that defined him sexually was a Seven Minutes in Heaven performance in a friend's basement closet with Jessie Parker. It had been an end-of-summer party. Jessie's family was relocating closer to her dad's new job. She would start the new school year there. The girl who shut the door had given us a wink, whirled, and yelled something Simon couldn't understand over the blaring music. There was scattered laughter then someone he didn't know shouted, " To his dick!" just as the door clicked shut.

In his confusion about the identity of the unknown yeller and the roar of laughter, Simon had missed Jessie removing her black t-shirt. There was only a quick peek of the pale outline framing her boobs from the deep tan of a summer spent in a swimsuit. Then Jessie's kiss hit him. It hit him hard. They fell back against the unpainted drywall from the force of it. Tounges at war, she had jammed her hand down his pants and boldly grabbed his cock. Squeezing wildly, she had him erect almost instantly. His hands were grasping wildly at the fabric of the pink skirt covering her taunt ass. Jessie broke off the kiss. Dropping to her knees, she roughly tugged his jeans down his thighs.

Before he could react, his exposed erection slid between her lips. Wet sounds echoed from her bobbing head, the summer blond curls whipping back and forth with each jerky motion. Stunned, Simon awkwardly groaned and contemplated if he should or shouldn't grab her head. Before he could decide, she let him slip from her saliva-coated lips and stood.

She grabbed his hair and pulled him into another battleground of tounges. Abruptly, she broke it off again to whisper in his ear.

"Fuck me."

Jessie turned around and tugged her skirt up. The pale milky skin of her butt cheeks displaying the same tan outlines as her top. It was the evidence of a variety of tiny bikinis she had worn sunbathing at the lake. He saw her white cotton panties crumpled at her sandaled feet. She had somehow expertly slipped them off during his first blowjob.

Simon grabbed the base of his cock and tried to insert it into the eager Jessie. His overly excited and inexperienced efforts only lead to some fruitless poking around. Jessie, with an audible sigh, reached back between her spread legs. Simon was unable to see what she was doing from his position. After some subtle movements, he felt his sensitive penis head become coated in her warm lubrication. She now adjusted and slowly pushed back into Simon. The immediate change in friction was evident even to his inexperienced erection. This time he could feel her tightness opening up to him. She inched him into her sweet depths until her butt cheeks met his pelvis. Simon moaned a low hungry groan the whole journey.

Jessie's muscles grew taut when she arched her back to slide almost off his rigid penis. This time she slammed backward with more force. Simon thudded into the unfinished closet wall behind him before grabbing Jessie's hips. Ancient instincts began to kick in as Simon plunged forward. The two bodies began to find their tempo. A harmony of each withdrawing, then returning to each other.

Simon's confidence grew as they continued. As he continued thrusting, his hands snaked up her back. Roughly grabbing her shoulders, he kicked his pounding up a speed. Jessie began grunting with each deep stroke. Outside the door, he could hear the host yell in an excited scream that only three minutes were left. Jessie must have heard it as well. She jerked herself into a standing position. With Simon still crashing into her from behind, Jessie pulled his head to hers by his hair. She gowled raspily into his ear.

"Fuck me."

His lust became animalistic. His hands lunged across Jessie's sweaty body, trying to find a better grip to force his way into her screaming body further than ever before. Body parts slapped together loudly. To go faster, to go harder was all that filled his mind. The death grip Jessie had on his damp hair was the only part of her body that hadn't completely submitted to his sexual barrage. Simon's arms, wrapped around her thin torso, kept her from slumping to the floor in gooey ecstasy.

A giggling voice yelled from the party on the other side of the door, "Two minutes left! I hope he doesn't dick her to death before then." A chorus of laughter and cheers rang out after her shout.

Jessie rallied back and began squeezing down on his pistoning shaft. Simon continued to power through the contractions, a hunger possessing him. His face buried into her neck, and Simon could feel the quick jerking in her arm. She was now rubbing her clitoris furiously. She tried to tell him something from behind her increasing moans and heavy breathing.

But it no longer mattered.

Simon was no longer fully in this memory. He recalled the ghost of a voice yelling, "One minute left!" Jessie's cries of urgency echoing off the unpainted closet's drywall. He hadn't until now remembered the scent of her sweaty skin. The closed-in heat and the salty beads activated the smell of the tanning lotion Jessie had worn like a second skin for that last summer together.

It was coconut scented.

...

Disoriented, Simon instantly returned to the dream bedroom. The curtains were still billowing uncannily in the indigo glow of an unknown light source. For a second, he couldn't locate the woman. Then he saw her. Directly in front of him, she kneeled on the worn bedroom rug. There was, however, no mistaking it for anything even remotely adjacent to sexual or worship. Her eyes stared at him with an intensity that terrified him.

Then she spoke. Her lips hardly seemed to move, yet her voice was everywhere at once. It was a whisper and a roar at the same time. Simon did more than hear her. It was something closer to feeling what she said.

"Be careful. Think before you speak. What have you learned?'

Something buried in his bones warned him this wasn't the sex dream he had ever thought it was. The darkness behind the curtains was now a void, not the night sky he had assumed. The seams of the room were more like cracks. The objects in his room were no longer familiar.

He began to try and focus on her riddle.

And just as his bones had warned him earlier, now something deep inside answered for him.

"Restrained patience and burning desire are two sides of the same coin. You show the side of the coin based on the currency needed in the moment."

The woman smiled. The atmosphere of the dream room changed. A warm purple glow replaced the color of night. Beyond the curtains, a crack of light appeared on the far horizon.

"Now for your reward," she said. Her eyes lowered to Simon's manhood. Soft hands slid up the back of his calves. A gentle touch to the back of both knees made them buckle. Simon flopped back onto the edge of this dream version of his bed.

Wary of the situation, his eyes never left hers as he landed in a sitting position. It was almost like the surreal beauty had planned the positioning.

Simon had also become aware he was fully nude now. He was almost sure he still had his boxers on before the scent of coconuts had transported him down memory lane. They had been struggling to hold his erection during the make-out session. His member was currently flaccid. Spooky threats from dream beings were not generally considered mood enhancers.

The woman kneeling before him wasn't exactly the one he had been lip-locking with earlier. Under the purple glow, things had changed. Her longer neck rose elegantly from sculpted shoulders. Her hair swept back from her face and was as dark as a shadow. Smooth and shiny, except for pinpoints of the purple light reflected in the sheen of it. It wouldn't take much imagination to believe one could spy constellations in its volume. Eyes, once more intently locked with Simon, had shifted to deep luminescent green.

And her full inky lips slowly parted to accept the head of his phallus. The sensations she expertly created, with what felt like multiple attentive tongues, were supernatural. So warm and wet, his manhood began to jerk and swell in her unbelievable mouth. Her silky tongues savored every curve and ridge on Simon's lengthening shaft. Her mesmerizing eyes stared directly into Simon's. Somehow, while her lips engulfed him, the visage managed a small smile at the edges.