To Barbie from Ken - 43 years later

Now locked together, we take the syringes from our mouths.

I gasp, "Oh my god..............."

"Yes, me too baby, me too" you say and squeeze me from inside. "Okay, what now?"

"Do you trust me?" ...........

"Yeah, do you trust me?............ are you thinking what I am?"

"I think so.....................let's do each other."

"Oh fuck yes baby."

Having been tied off for a few minutes, both our forearms are flushed blueish/red, veins bulging. I register you first, gently laying the syringe on your forearm and then register myself, laying mine down in the same manner.

I quickly untie each of us and let the hoses fall to the floor.

Each of us will be using our right hand to shoot the dope into our partner's left arm. The load in each is small but potent, requiring only a short excursion of the plunger to deliver the full dose into our bloodstreams.

"Are you ready?"...............

The combination of sexual arousal, intense mental concentration and precise manual dexterity in piercing our veins has all made me literally breathless..............My heart is racing and I can feel it pounding in my chest.

I see you are in a similar state. Your breasts rise and fall as you gulp for air. Some of this is anticipation of the rush to come, some is the previous shot already pulsing through our veins, but most of this is a sexual crest that is already higher than anything I have known. I can feel my cock swelling and ebbing inside you, the cadence matching my racing heart.

Your vaginal walls grip and release my shaft in counterpoint. The sensation is incredible, as though we are truly one being.

You lean toward me, opening your mouth to speak, no Barbie voice, no "cool my coozie" voice, just a fecund, full woman......."Kiss me".

You open your mouth, giving me your tongue.

Mouths wide open, we breathe into each other.

We pull apart and carefully reach down to the other's forearm and secure the barrel of the syringe between our respective index and middle fingers.

We place our thumbs on the round disc at the end of the plungers.

Looking back up at each other we smile, take a deep breath........... and finally in unison, our thumbs push the plungers to the stop and we quickly pull the syringes from our arms and toss them onto the table.

I watch your eyes open wide, your tongue lolling out over your lips, and I feel the coke unload into my system. A kundalini fire explodes down somewhere between my asshole and prostate as I involuntarily thrust deeper into you. I can feel my cock blossom and expand, lightning running up my spine.

The smooth, warm heroin rush follows into me, signaled by a warm glow behind my knees........... it joins the smack already in my system and thickens the opiate cocoon warming my soul.

You cry out, wrap your arms around my neck and lean back. Planting your feet on the bed, you push yourself up and off my cock. Open to the air now, my shaft tingles and feels like it is throwing off sparks, but before I can fully savor the changing sensation, you slide back down onto it.

You repeat this over and over, squatting up and down, each time growing wetter, warmer and somehow tighter. But I cannot move in this seated position as I am anchoring both of us. Your need rises and your movements become more frantic as your hot breath pours over my face.

"Come on, fuck me back, climb into me, fill me up". At this point I cannot tell where my cock ends and you begin. My entire body feels like it is all going up into your hole and you are consuming me.

Our mouths are all over each other's faces, almost eating each other. I taste blood as your lip splits open after smashing into my teeth. Grunting, you sink your teeth into my neck and begin sucking.

I hook my arms under your knees and stand up. With you hanging from my neck by your arms, that connection acts as our pivot point and I swing you off me and as you swing back I use my hips to drive my cock into you.

On the next stroke, I look down and watch as my swollen crown comes all the way out of your fuck hole, itself fully distended, lips gaping wide open. As we come back together, your ass slams down onto my balls, increasing their swollen tension.

Your mons and my pubic bone become the stop points as we smash together, bruises raising under the fair, soft skin of our groins, but instead of backing off, our union becomes even more frenetic.

Bringing your arms more tightly around my neck, you wrap your legs tightly around my waist and begin climbing up and down on my cock, lips pulled back in a fierce grin you lean into me and cry in my ear "More, I want more of you inside me, Fuck me, fuck harder, I want to feel all of you"..........

I can no longer hold both of us upright, I spin us around and slam us onto the bed, where I begin thrusting as hard as I can, my balls slapping your distended anus, trying to tear my way inside you.

You are speaking in unintelligible gibberish, spittle flying from your mouth, spraying onto my face, your fists are pounding my shoulder blades and your heels are hammering my lower back and ass.

As I lift my torso away from yours, you throw your legs open wide. Together, we watch fascinated, as your loins release me and then consume my length over and over again

Thrusting your hands between your legs, you begin flagellating your mons, fingers splayed wide as they race back and forth across your engorged clit.

Your vaginal walls begin quivering around me. You arch your back, mouth open in orgasmic rictus.

I feel your very being reach out from deep in your womb and grab my groin from under my ball sack and pull all of me into your cunt, milking me, pumping my semen out of me as I unload myself into you.

Breathless, I feel as though I am imploding, with all of my essence distilled into the milky nectar that you are squeezing out of me. My heart is thundering in my ears.

We go to kiss, but our mouths are now cotton dry. In unison, we roll apart and go between our legs for moisture. It's easy to find. It's covering my cock and balls and now flowing out of your cunt.

"Oh fuck, this is crazy!" You cry, bringing your hand, covered in our come to our mouths.

It's yours, it's mine and devouring our own fluids, we smear it on each other, licking it off each other, sharing it mouth to mouth.

Covered in sweat, oil and come, we are glistening like liquid gods. I notice that smeared amongst all this is a small streak of blood on our left forearms.

"Holy fuck!" I say and fall back on the bed.

"Yeah boy, me too........ and the night has only begun!" you laugh.

You curl up against me, head on my shoulder, knee bent, resting on my belly in a fit that belies that fact that we only met a few hours earlier. Cradling my right arm around you, I cuddle into your softness.

The coke was just enough to give us that incredible jolt but stood no chance against the fine Asian smack that formed the foundation of our evening. Sexually sated for the time being, we both go into a deep nod, spooned together like old lovers.

An hour or two goes by, the sun goes down and the hotel starts filling. A slammed door next to ours shakes the cheap walls and brings me out of my opium dreams.

Neither of us has moved. My groin has that wonderful, deep ball ache that comes from heavy love making. There is a bit of drool dripping from your mouth, running over my chest where it is puddling in my sternum.

Taking my left hand, I roll two fingers through your spittle and bring them to my dry, parched lips. As I smear your drool across them, pain shoots through me and I soften my touch over my swollen, cut and bruised lower lip.

Poking at it, I begin to realize it is most of my lower lip............ Damn, we were rougher than I remember. I slowly disentangle myself from your sleeping form and as I crawl off the other side of the bed, my body starts talking to me........my lips and balls are not the only aching zones!

I begin to clean up the room a bit. I gather up the syringes, cap them and then bag them with the first two. I put the remaining bindles and partial bag of coke into my little dope pouch and zip it up, not sure where the night will go from here.

Scratching myself, I luxuriate in the continuing buzz of a heroin high, so different when one is not strung out and just getting back to "normal" with each shot. Once addicted, you are one of three places: Sick -- Normal -- Nodding.

I have not had a habit for over a year and a half and this is only the fourth time I have done dope since then.

The nuances of what opiates can do to your brain and body are lost on the junkie. But the clean man............ well that feeling is how we end up being junkies, chasing the magical heaven that smack can bring, but not to it's slaves.

You have rolled onto your back and are noisily breathing through your mouth. I walk over to the bed and spend some time just looking at you. From the moment we met, you literally never stopped moving. If someone had asked me to describe you.......

Hell, I would have said, you were a classic California blonde, bouncy cheerleader chick hiding a seriously kinky side. Late twenties, quick witted, but that's about as far as I could have taken it.

I would not have known that your eyes were emeralds if the dope had not pinned your pupils so much that iris was all I could see. Athletics are somewhere in your recent past as there is definition to your legs (runner, cyclist?) and your upper torso is tight with defined, slightly cut biceps (now thinking gymnast instead).

I would have said you were make up free, but your discreetly applied mascara and eye liner has run from all our exertions and gives lie to any simple "hippie chick" mythos. Both your lips are swollen and one is more split than mine, the wound still open, not scabbing and a bit of fresh blood glints from the crevice of the gash.

Your breasts are full enough that they splay off to the side of your chest when lying on your back, but firm enough that shape and form remain. Come and spit have dried on your belly and dark red/purplish bruises form a crown around your bare mons.

Having never seen a smooth pussy up close other than this evening, when my face was buried in it, I lean in for more modulated inspection.

There is no stubble showing anywhere, so I assume this must be what waxing looks like. Your outer labia have contained everything and folded in on themselves, leaving a pouting, bruised pudenda.

"Want to see more?" your voice breaks my concentration and ends my examination......... for the moment.

"Indeed I would, but let me tend to you first."

You look at me quizzically, but as you go to wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth, you wince on contact with your lips.

I grab the ice bucket, but it has melted to room temp water.

"Back in a second", I jump into my jeans and run down the hall to fill it back up.

When I return, you are sitting up in bed, pillows piled behind your back. Patting the space you have left along the edge, you motion for me to come join you. Before I finish sitting, you reach out to cup my chin....... "Oh baby, you too".......as you trace your finger lightly across my swollen lip.

We each take an ice cube and gently run them back and forth across the other's damaged lips. It's a funny, tender moment. You squint a bit as if trying to see into me, your green irises shining like the northern lights.

"Oh shit, did I do that?" you exclaim, turning my head to expose the side of my neck.

"What? What are you talking about?" I ask.

"Go look at yourself in the mirror." As I walk away from you toward the bathroom, you exclaim, "Damn boy, you must have made me crazy".

At the mirror I examine myself and discover that while I only have one busted lip, it is so swollen that the shiny inner lip has rolled forward, making it double its usual size. On the side of my neck is the biggest hickey I have ever seen.

The dark purple welt still has teeth marks along its edge and is very tender to the touch. Looking down, I can see bruises showing through my pubic hair, essentially lining up with the swollen mons I had just observed on you.

"Turn around cowboy"......... I turn my back to the mirror and look over my shoulder at my back, which has a dozen tennis ball size bruises from your fists and heels.

You climb out of the bed and walk over to me. Pressing yourself against me, you gently kiss my neck with your swollen lips. We wrap our arms around each other and just stand there holding each other, trying to assimilate a relationship that is only hours old and has already gone so many places that few can even imagine.

"Do you eat sushi?" you ask. Sushi is a pretty new trend at the time, but I have discovered I actually like raw fish.

"Yeah, I would love some sushi, but do you really want to go out?"

"Let's call and see if we can get it to go".

Before I can say another word, you are calling information and getting the number of Hana Sushi, just down Ventura Blvd.

After a pile of "hais!" and "domos!", you have placed the order and we throw our clothes on and head down to the car. You insist on putting the top down and then stand all the way down Ventura, arms out like Jesus, or an airplane or just the crazy, funky chick I am spending the night with.

I am worried we will get pulled over. Loaded on dope, I am driving a car registered to a famous director, with a woman who looks like I may have beat her, puncture wounds in the crooks of our arms and semen crusted on various parts of our exposed skin, not to mention my own split lip and hickey.

But you are having so much fun, that I stuff my fears and let you enjoy yourself.

We make it to Hana without incident, you run in and are back in a flash with our food. I throw a U turn across Ventura and head back to the motel.

"Wait, we need sake! Go back!"

Luckily it's LA and there is a liquor store on every other block. I pull into a lot and we go in together and search around for some sake. There is not much of a selection, so we get the most expensive one they have and then grab four, one liter bottles of water.

Ever since our cottonmouthed dive into our come flow, you have been going on about how we need to hydrate.

The clerk takes note of our appearance, but he is probably going to see a lot stranger things tonight. The Valley on a Friday night after all is not Mid America.

Back in the room, you crack open a bottle of water and urge me to drink up after draining half of it yourself.

I pour some sake into a coffee cup and heat it up in the microwave, while you finish putting the sushi in order. By the time I turn around, you are naked again and lying on the bed, the plate of sushi on your belly.

"How do you like the presentation?"

I am speechless for the first time this evening and just stand there, staring.

"Hurry up Buster, I am starving and this plate is cold!"

After your insistence that I strip naked too, you get up and we sit cross legged on the bed, eating sushi, drinking sake and talking about our lives.

We have an assorted platter with a wide variety of sushi. We work together figuring out which is which using the little printed picture menu page included with the order. Both of us are fairly new to sushi and we coach each other on how to mix the wasabi and soy sauce, what the Japanese names are for each type of fish and which ones we like.

We both agree that tuna (maguro) and yellowtail (hamachi) are our favorites. Then probably salmon (sake), eel (unagi) and halibut. Sea Urchin does not appeal to me, but you love it, while I like the salmon roe (ikura) which you hate. We both find the squid too chewy, but the octopus is kind of fun.

As it turns out my guess was right and you were a gymnast. You made all state in high school and college held promise for possible national achievement via a full ride scholarship at UCLA. As a varsity level jock, you were headed toward a sorority girl life. But repeated iliotibial band injuries sidelined you from gymnastics and that's when you discovered painting.

All your pent up energy went into your discovery of art and your path began to change.

Art led to bohemian lifestyles well outside your suburban background and several older, willing professors and artists schooled you in not only palette choices and brush technique, but sex as well, until one day, you realized that you were the one in control and the possessor of what they wanted, not vice versa.

Your last professor before dropping out opened you to many things, including opium and then heroin. But he also groomed you as an object, rather than loving you as a partner. All the explorations and lessons were to feed his need and if you got off along the way, that was fine, but you were never really the focus.

Feeling used and emotionally burnt, you turned to women lovers for a spell. There was a lot in the lesbian world that worked for you. Your female partners guided you through a new and exciting adventure of sexual exploration.

You learned about your body in ways a man could never show you and found alternate rhythms to the dance of love making. You were a quick study. Since you were both working with the same "equipment", you could quickly put what you had learned into action.

Sex became true interaction and you discovered what it meant to really share on a physical plane. But you also discovered that you were not gay. Certainly bisexual, but not gay. You just needed to be more discerning in your choices.

You love the physical softness of women and their emotional accessibility. You still take female lovers although none recently and I can see that you wish that was not the case.

You ask if I have had experience with men and I tell you about Dorothy and Tom and our triad during college. While explaining that my interactions with Tom were initially to please Dorothy, you interrupt me.

"I asked you about experience with men, why does every mention of Tom have this Dorothy person attached?"

"It was my relationship with Dorothy that brought me to Tom, but that was not your question, was it?"

"No it was not, so what's up with that?"

You keep probing and for the first time, I really assess that period of my life. You don't let me sidetrack and keep me focused on what I seem to be unable to admit.

"Most of our sex was orchestrated by her. We were all very political, it was 1970 and feminism was changing everything for both women and men. She used it with Tom and I to dominate and guilt trip us. I was young, in love and easily manipulated."

"She sounds like an asshole."

"Yeah, well, she had issues and we were both deeply in love with her."

I begin to realize that I came to enjoy sex with Tom. He was a nice guy and we found our way to each other at a very vulnerable spot in our lives. In fact by the time I left, I cared more deeply for him than Dorothy.

You are gentle in your probing and when it starts to get too emotional, you find ways to diffuse the tension.

"Does Jerry know that you like to eat men's come?" you tease and I turn beet red. "I'm sorry, that was mean.

"No, I have kept that part of my life bottled up and have shared it with very few people. And any discussion had to do with the relationship dynamic, not the sex. That is why I keep saying 'Dorothy and Tom'. Your digging has broken through some barriers. I don't think I had admitted it to myself until just now, but yes, I liked sucking Tom's cock and enjoyed swallowing his come."

Having said that, a weight that I never knew I carried was lifted from me.

"What happened? You look different."

"I don't know, but saying that out loud was illuminating, invigorating, it's hard to describe. Thank you!"

"You are quite welcome, kind sir. You are also my first male lover willing to admit that he has sucked cock. Why is it that for me to eat pussy is considered hot and sexy, but you sucking cock is weird and weak? And by the way, the thought of you sucking a cock gives me shivers!"