tagGroup SexRon's Journal 01

Ron's Journal 01


Author's note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, writings about his life. I have edited these accounts and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.

The sex starts after a bit of introductory blather. Please read on.

******************** 0: Introduction -- The End of Continuity

My name is Ron. I was born near Los Angeles in mid-century, in the same hospital where my dad was born 30 years earlier. My family had been in this town since before 1900 -- very rare in mobile Southern California. Dad's parents kept a small poultry farm and nut orchard on the far outskirts of town.

My sisters and cousins and I grew up with a typical post-WW2 middle-class suburban 'ranch'-house life under the smogberry trees. In those years, the mostly Anglo kids in my subdivision almost all walked to the same nearby elementary school, later biked to the same local middle school, then moved on to high school across town.

On hot days, we played in sprinklers on our front lawns or in the few backyard swimming pools. On cold evenings, we would gather in someone's house for games and hot chocolate and ghost stories. We ganged-up at any time for bike rides or record parties or spitting contests.

As we grew a little older, we kids naturally played exploratory sexual games. I cannot give details here -- but some girls wanted to know if my great height (eventually 6'5") and shoe size (I now wear 17's) correlated with penile length. (The answer: yes.) Others gave lusty greetings and good-byes. Others only wanted to play. We all learned a great deal around swimming pools, hey?

This typical life shattered and collapsed when I was 16 and my sisters Sue and Lyn were 15 and 14. Mom decided Dad was too boring and dull. Mom divorced him, and moved in with a lower-class redneck stud and his two thuggish sons, who became my "step-family". My sisters and I were bounced between various households and schools in various towns. Our old friendships faded away in the distance.

Even worse, the "step-family" guys molested my unwilling underage sisters -- and Mom did nothing to stop them. We learned to have zero respect for ourselves and others. We ran away, were caught and returned, and punished. Our late-teen lives generally sucked -- but not totally. I had a few bright spots.

******************** 1: Piedmont High -- Fun and Games

I turned 18 before my senior year of high school. I was in three different high schools that year and dropped out before graduation; more on that later.

I had to register for the draft. I gave my address as the place where Mom lived with her redneck stud, across the county line, out of Los Angeles County. The local draft board was racist, and drafted Blacks and Chicanos first. My thin white ass was pretty safe from being shipped off to die in VietNam.

I started the year at middle-class Piedmont HS in my hometown, amid the familiar cohort of kids I had grown up with, as well as kids from other parts of town. Some of those other-neighborhood girls became special friends, but all too briefly.


"Hey Ron, what's happening?"

That was Judy, shoulder high to me, with trimmed brown hair and nice curves, cute as a bunny and just as bouncy. She skipped alongside me clutching her books to her pleasantly pneumatic chest masked in an orange and vanilla sundress. We headed towards our next history class.

"Oh, same old same old. I'm still trying to play rock'n'roll on that bulbous old mandolin my aunt gave me. Yuck. I really need a guitar."

"Hey, you haven't been over to my house yet. Come visit me sometime and you can play with my guitar -- and with me!"

I smiled and straightened my tie.

I had been reading about Japanese schools and had decided to put together my own version of a school uniform. So I wore black JC Penny jeans, and a dark green short-sleeved button-down linen shirt, and wrapped a plain dark red tie around my neck, held down with a Rising Sun tie clip.

This was NOT the usual Southern California school garb in this Summer Of Love season.

"Sounds like a plan. What have you got there?"

Judy was pulling out her sketchpad, pulling out an inked sheet.

"It's for you. It IS you!"

It certainly *was* me, a detailed pen-and-ink drawing of me in that boring classroom on a typical day. My lean head topped with longish black hair, thick black-frame glasses, and a bored expression. My shirt and tie and its ominously glowing clip. My nervous gestures. Judy had put a lot of work into this.

I smiled again and looked at my watch, which I had actually remembered to wind and set that morning. We still had a couple minutes till the bell rang. I prodded Judy towards an unoccupied bench. I put my arm around her soft shoulders and gave her a good snuggly squeeze.

"This is really great! Judy, you're the best girl here!"

I squeezed her again, looked around to make sure no teachers were looking our way, and kissed her forehead, with a little wet lick too. I felt her shiver. (Or was she giggling?) I grabbed her hand and pulled her up, moving us on to class. We walked hand in hand to the door. We went to our desks for our hour of mental torture.

Our next classes were in opposite directions, so we split up with promises to get together at her place right after school.


With the school day over, I pedaled my Raleigh 3-speed to the drugstore to buy the latest DOCTOR STRANGE comic, then on to the affluent neighborhood where Judy lived. Her father was a dentist; her mother busied herself with various social and civic groups; and their house oozed money.

I still lived in the modest downtown apartment my Dad was forced into after the divorce. I had had to learn to cook out of self-defense. Judy's family's economic and social status was a couple rungs above anything I was used to, and I was nervous.

Judy met me at the door, hugged me, told me her folks would not be back for a couple hours, and dragged me inside and upstairs to her bedroom. We pulled off our shoes. A box of oatmeal cookies and a pitcher of iced lemonade waited on the window ledge.

Her Spanish acoustic guitar was in its open case on her bed. We sat down next to it. I picked it up and fingered the strings.

"Oh, I'll have to twist my brain around this. The bottom strings are tuned just the opposite of my mandolin strings. I'm used to GDAE and now I'll have to start thinking about EADGBE," I said as I put the guitar back in its case.

Judy grinned, got a sly look, and said, "Well, if you can't play my guitar, then you'll just have to play ME! Why don't you start here?" She turned around and pointed at the top button on the back of her dress.

I needed no more encouragement. Each unbuttoning was accompanied with a little rubbing of her back. She turned to face me. She started on my tie and shirt, then my belt and jeans zipper.

We both stood up. She pulled my shirt off and my jeans down to my feet. I pulled her sundress up over her head. We stood there, her in creamy bra and panties, me in pale undershirt and briefs.

We slowly reached out to each other, feeling our faces, arms, belly buttons. We stared into each other's eyes.

"Am I your best girl?"

"Judy, sure, you know you are."

"Have you ever been with a girl?"

I hemmed and hawed and told her about some kissing and groping and fond embraces. I didn't bring up the feet-vs-penis-length survey, nor a couple of close encounters.

"Is that all?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's about it."

Judy wore her sly grin again, reached over to a brass bell sitting on a bookcase, and rang it. Her bedroom door opened.

"You know Ann, I think. She's in my glee club. We've talked about you."

Oh shit, I'm busted. Totally busted. Is it fatal?

Faith, Hope and Ann Heineke were three sisters who lived across the street from me in my old neighborhood, each born 9 1/2 months after the other. Ann was just a few days younger than me.

They were supposed to be Faith, Hope and Charity. But Francis X, their father, ran off to Okinawa with a JAL stewardess while the last was still a fetus. Their mother thought the whole name game was stupid, thus the youngest became Ann.

Despite being long-time neighbors, I rarely saw these three girls because they were not in the public school system, being raised in Catholic schools instead. The closest we ever got was a couple weekends when we hung around together listening to a Hawaiian language audio course, drinking guava juice, and practicing hula moves. And I had run off a couple bullies who harassed them.

At least, that was the closest we got until recently. These three svelte sisters, all longhaired blondes with similar but distinctive lovely bodies and faces, were the very same Catholic schoolgirls who had attacked me with a measuring tape. They called their survey "anatomical research".

Of course, to get accurate measurements, they applied certain sweet incentives. They concluded that yes, long fingers and feet DO correlate with the length of other appendages. All in the name of Science, hey?

Ann had offered some of the sweetest incentives. Oh shit, I am *so* busted...

Ann and Judy both cackled. "Don't sweat it," Judy laughed. Ann smiled, "No huuhuu!" (That's Hawaiian for NO PROBLEM.)

Ann offered me yet more eye candy, dropping her school uniform to the floor around her slowly wriggling feet. Her chestnut-hair topped Judy by a couple inches; her willowy form was clad in no more than Judy wore.

They unsnapped each other's bras. I seemed to suffer a breathing difficulty at that moment.

When they pulled down each other's panties, my nervous system shut down momentarily.

But I quickly recovered. I might have prayed.

I sat down heavily on the bed, still wearing my skivvies and my Goldwater eyeglasses. My eyeballs oozed through the lenses. Looking directly back at me were four nipples inside four aureoles atop four bouncy tits.

TITS! Friendly, inquisitive, approaching tits. Tits that moved closer to my face.

Four hands reached out into my hair and pulled me upright, relieving me of my skivvies and glasses and rational thought, and then pushed me back down, sitting on the bed. Four tits brushed across my naked eyes, my shuddering nose, my drooling lips. Tits were inserted into my ear canals, my eye sockets, my nostrils. Tits were presented to each other's luscious lips, then inserted into my slack-jawed open mouth.

I responded rather quickly. I should have said grace -- "for these bounties I am about to receive."

"There, there, little Ronny, it's alright, just pucker up and suck," said Judy.

"Mmmmph," I replied. Yes, I was tongue-tied.

"Hey Ron, do I taste any better than Judy?" asked Ann, pushing forward.

"Mmmmph mmmph," was all I could respond.

Judy said, "Hey, we gave him the length test. I think it's time for a taste test."

Ann nodded. They each slowly stuffed a couple fingers into each other's cunts. I could see their digits twiddling about their insides, gathering up their warm juices. They pulled their dripping fingers out, held them to their own and each other's noses, inhaled, took tiny licks.

Ann poked her juicy fingers into one side of my mouth, and Judy poked hers into the other side.

"OK Ron, which of us tastes better?" asked Judy.

"Mmmmph mmmph mmmph," was my honest answer.

All our mouths and genitals and torsos were rather occupied after that. We circled and writhed, sucking nipples and navels and gonads and toes and whatever else was available. I came quickly the first time, but lasted longer with each subsequent suck.

Neither girl had the greatest blowjob technique, but who cares? I did not have the best pussy-licking skills, but I heard no complaints, only happy moans.

My naive cock was not allowed into either reserved cunt, but repetitive 69s amongst all of us were quite as much fun. I loved watching them eagerly tongue each other from mouth to breast to crotch to toes. They apparently both enjoyed feeling my tongue and cock, and tasting my saliva and jiz and toe-jam.

We all slurped like hungry puffer-fish -- until the alarm clock rang.

"Hey guys," said Judy, "we better stop and clean up. My folks should be home sometime soon."

There was a bit more slurping and stroking and shimmying, but in only a few minutes, we looked and smelled almost innocent again.

Judy's mother came up the stairs and found us supposedly rehearsing folk songs with Judy playing guitar, me blowing my Marine Band chromatic harmonica, Ann tapping spoons together. Our vocal mix was tolerable as long as I stuck to simple baritone lines.


Over the next few weeks, Ann and/or her sisters occasionally showed up at Judy's for more "jam sessions" where all we jammed were fingers and tongues. Judy drew some sketches of our sexfests and hid them carefully. And I quit being so nervous about hanging out in the upscale neighborhood, even if I was only there as a sex object.

Our next sexfest was purely educational. I was in for intensive training.

I biked to Judy's house after school. She yelled from her bedroom window for me to come upstairs. Judy and Ann were in bed, totally bare-assed, wrapped around each other, and kissing. They pulled their mouths apart and peered at me.

"Ron, get naked," Ann told me.

"You need to learn how to eat pussy," Judy instructed.

"Oh boy, a fun study session," I quipped as I skinned off my clothes.

Ann sprawled across the bed, legs opened wide. Judy sat on Ann's mouth, facing me.

"Put your long nose in front of Ann's cute cunt and pay attention," Judy said, leaning forward. I quickly obliged.

"This is your Female Anatomy And Physiology 101 class, totally extra credit... ooooh," Judy said as Ann's working tongue started affecting her.

Judy pointed a finger at Ann's cunt and said, "This is a cunt. It likes to be licked. Like this."

Judy dipped her head, stretched her tongue, and demonstrated. My face was right next to her upside-down skull. I carefully observed her actions.

"These are the lips, and the labial folds. They like to be licked all around, like this," and she showed how.

"Now you try it... oooh ah ahh," Judy groaned, and I did.

"They especially like to have a tongue loop around in their folds, just like this." Judy showed me how. I repeated her oral gestures.

"This is the vagina. It likes to have a stiffened tongue stuck down into it, like this... oh god no..." Another demonstration followed, with me copying.

Ann started to twitch, but not as much as Judy did.

"This little nub here is the magic button, the clit. It's like a tiny penis but it's not queer if you lick and suck that clit. Be careful and don't slurp too hard... oh shit, like Ann is doing to me now, oh fuck..."

Ann and Judy both shook as I concentrated on this anatomical detail.

Judy gasped, "OK, now you need to slowly stick a finger in the vagina and twirl it around... oooh oooh... and also use your thumb to press gently on the clit... oh fuck oh fuck... excuse me a minute," as she buried her face in Ann's cunt.

Ann and Judy both rocked and rolled and moaned. Judy eventually raised herself out of the 69 and sat upright on Ann's mouth. I could see Ann's tongue still working. Ann reached up and palmed Judy's breasts, then tweaked her nipples.

"Finally, there's a nice trick. Use your tongue to write the alphabet on her pussy. Go slow. Repeat yourself. Oooohhh... And now you need to practice all those moves, varying them, but especially concentrating on the clit to make us cum... oh god oh god oh god..."

I applied all I had learned in this lesson. I also improvised a little, reaching up for Ann's breasts, and rubbing her inner thighs with my hands, and even blowing into her hole and nibbling her clit.

"Oh god oh fuck oh god... FUCK! OH FUCK!" whined Ann's pussy-muffled voice.

Ann came, explosively, wetly. I guess I had passed the course. And practice made perfect.

A following session was even more interesting. When I arrived upstairs, Faith, Hope, Ann and Judy were all naked in Judy's bed. Judy was on her back. Faith was licking Judy's cunt. Hope and Ann were mouthing Judy's tits. All three sisters were rubbing Judy's body. Judy was writhing and moaning. I was fascinated.

Hope looked up and said, "Ron, my sisters and I have a couple rules. No cocks go into our pussies or assholes, and we don't lick each other there either. Anything else goes, pretty much."

Faith abandoned Judy's vulva and was replaced by Ann. Hope leaned over Judy's head from behind and they slurped each other's tits. Then Hope sat on Judy's face, bent over in a 69 position, and joined Ann in pleasuring Judy's pussy.

"Show me what you've learned about eating a girl," Faith said, opening herself to me. I demonstrated to the best of my ability, with lips and tongue and fingers and nose. Faith yelled happily.

Judy pulled herself away from Hope and Ann and moved toward Faith and me, saying, "Hey, make room for me in there."

Judy positioned herself, wrapped her legs around Faith's head, and swallowed my cock. I kept my mouth on Faith's pussy. We throbbed together in a triad daisychain. We all became very happy.

We fell apart. I flopped on my back, with my revived hardon still stiff and pointing skyward. We three looked over at sisters Hope and Ann. They were locked in a 69.

"Well, so much for the rules," Faith shrugged, as she sat up, straddled my hips, and lowered herself onto me, "but don't you *dare* cum inside me."

I didn't. Judy pulled me out and sucked me dry just in time.

The situation sort of degenerated from there. Everybody slurped everybody. My cock found many friendly mucous membranes. Wow, was it fun!

NEXT: The love of my life comes and goes.

******************** 2: Piedmont High -- Love, Found and Lost

I thought I had found the love of my life while eating canned kippered herrings.

I avoided the school cafeteria. I would not have eaten there even if Judy did not have a different lunch schedule. Also, I was too broke to pay for cafeteria meals.

Why was I too broke? Because after the divorce I never knew which household in which town I might be forced to at any time; and my only certain transport was a slow bicycle; and there is no way to hold a job in such a situation. I depended on a small allowance.

Thus, each day I brought a can of kippers, and a pack of crackers, and a couple carrots, and maybe some fruit I had stolen from trees or vines as I pedaled my 3-speed Raleigh to school. (This was before the very last orange groves and fruit orchards were ripped out to make way for freeways and apartments and mini-malls.)

I would sit on a table in the biology lab to eat and read quietly. Nobody hung out in biology during lunchtime, nobody but me.

Nobody but me -- and then Maria Sabbatini.

Maria was a long, tall girl, the top of her head almost up to my eyes, so she was not much less than 6 feet.

Yes, she was a classic Mediterranean beauty with direct almond eyes and smooth olive skin and thick obsidian hair and a modest nose. And ample breasts proudly adorning her taut frame; toned calves stretching below the light skirt hanging from her perfect waistline; sinuous thin feet.

I notice things like that. When a Minoan snake priestess appears, I notice, even when she is fully clothed.


I was lunching alone in the lab, reading and scribbling in a Bob Dylan songbook, transposing the accidental-key guitar chords so I would be able to play them on mandolin.

The door opened. Sunshine silhouetted the figure of a Minoan snake priestess. As she approached, I saw she wore a white blouse and beige skirt and simple sandals. I almost inhaled my forkful of kipper.

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