tagFirst TimeVicious Young Heartbreak

Vicious Young Heartbreak


The First Date

I wasn't with a girl in a long time. I only had one a year prior. My brother in law handed me a sheet of paper. It read vibe something. It was an email of a girl from his work. I emailed her, and she sent something back about exploring each other's bodies. She was confident sexually but had zero self esteem elsewhere. I was surprised by the email but turned on. I emailed back a meeting. She was to come to my house for dinner and music. I never met her before, but trust was established via my brother in law's selling of me, I guess.

"She is hot as shit, cute little ass, just let me know if you get some, if she is shaved," brother in law said.

I didn't answer to that wretchedness. There was a part of me that was a puritan, but I got in the habit of drinking that away. He was right about her though. My God he was. I cannot stand my brother in law, but I secretly thanked him for this.

I was 21 and she was 19. She came over to my dad's place. He was in Germany for a month visiting his girlfriend. A decent size house with a pool. She looked like Angela Jolie. She wore a black rose patterned choker, tight jeans, a red tank top, smelled like fresh flowers, had straight long light brown hair, and carried a large denim bag. I had an erection at the door.

We didn't eat dinner. We ate elsewhere before the nine 'clock movie night at my house. She drew Magna art and I drew Robert Crumb art with Rapidograph technical pens. She drew young girl superheroes and I drew portraits of people and cartoons of just about anything. I had butterflies in my stomach and twenty years later, I have never felt anything like it again. Life is tragic like that, I guess.

We broke the ice with cold Michelob lights. I had a case in the fridge. We drank beer and I showed her around the house. My dad's house had guns, orchards, Peruvian quilts hanging from the walls, thumb tacked dead butterflies in the kitchen, seven thousand coffee mugs with pictures, oil paintings done by me, and twenty calendars of everything from cacti to wolves. I put on a record. The Beatle's album, "Let it Be".

We grabbed our third beer each and sat on the back patio to smoke. I was feeling buzzed and she had to be. I was 6'2" about 150 and she was 5'4" about 110. I chain smoked Marlboro lights and she chain smoked Parliaments. The quarter acre backyard was black except for the glow of the pool light. I fantasized about swimming with her naked and hid my erection caused by that thought. The back porch was filled with plants. I just ran a hose over them and never knew what they were.

The Beatles song, "I, Me, Me, Mine," spun on the record player. It is one of my favorites. My stomach still had butterflies. She looked at me with her mouth open and the security light illuminated the top of her pink tongue. I had blue balls from this.

"Do you mind if I smoke pot back here?" Shannon said.

I never smoke pot sober because I become paranoid but after a few beers, I can deal with a hit or two. But I didn't want to act like a fucking goof.

"Sure, go ahead," I said. "I might smoke later on, but I am good now."

"I didn't offer you any," she said.

My father was somewhat of a social idiot when he did not drink. He was brilliant at math but just not a fluid conversationalist. I believe I adopted this trait, although I can speak fluidly alone in a mirror. Flirtation was always laborious.

"I see how it is," I said. What a shitty comeback you idiot.

She laughed. I think it was a laughter of relief that she was allowed to smoke and wanted to as soon as she got in the door. She pulled a silver metal pipe with flowers on the shaft part. Followed by a purple lighter and a rolled-up zip lock bag of buds. It smelled pungent and fresh. I could tell how she handled it that it was very moist and sticky. She stretched out a piece and plopped into the empty bowl and put it to her lips. I lip up another smoke as I watched her burn an orange ball and push out thick white smoke from her cute little nose.

The record stopped, and I left her to flip the record. My heart was puttering, my balls were being strangled, and the butterflies in my stomach were tying knots. John Lennon started singing as I relieved my beer from my bladder. What do we do now? She will have the munchies and be paranoid. What about a movie? Which movie. When do we explore each other's bodies? I could barely find the sanity to piss out everything. I had that feeling of anxiety like I used to when my dad was too fucked up to deal with. I thought that when I got back on the porch, I would have a handicap guest. I needed to be a baby sitter and not a sleazebag either.

When I got back, she was on her cell phone. The butterflies were ripping my guts apart. It is an ex-boyfriend calling her.

"Okay, I will call you tomorrow, ok?" Shannon said.

"Hey Jay," Shannon said.

"Hello there," I said.

She lit a cigarette and stalled a bit almost knowing that I could be curious of who she was blabbing with.

"That was my older sister, she was calling to check up on me," Shannon said.

Her poor little lungs. She has been exhaling white mist for the last ten minutes. Her beer was empty and so was mine. Yes, my Lord, give me something to do. Thinking is bad.

"Need another beer," I said.

"Fuck yah," she said.

I got up and my penis was on fire with that remark. But deep down inside, there was a tiny red flag waving in the bloody winds of my soul. I just got a feeling that she was possibly promiscuous and could have a personality disorder. I walked to the fridge and saw the cold beers standing like bowling pins on the top shelf. I wondered what I would be doing if I was alone. Certainly not drinking. I only drank coffee, lots of it, when alone.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" I said.

"Nah," she said.

I knew how to draw portraits and play the guitar. I didn't feel like doing either. We were far from the music.

"Fuck it, we can smoke in the house, pot too, let's sit next to the record player on the sofa," I said.

She collected her stuff and we both plopped down on the sofa. I found an old Bambi ashtray in the kitchen. It was a ceramic my mother made. Her name next to '1972' was carved into the bottom. The music was richer in the dining room and it was cozier. I leaped up and lit two white candles on the coffee table. Her face glowed in the flicker. Her blue eyes shined. How do I get closer to her?

"Do you have any of your Manga art with you?" I said.

"I do, hold on," she said.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a pad. I sat close enough were we shared the same cushion and our thighs barely touched. She flipped through the pages and I could give a fuck. However, she was talented. My heart was vibrating the couch.

"No shit, this stuff is great Shannon," I said. "Most people are average, but you are damn good."

Finally, I felt confidence for the first time. I can draw like a mother fucker and when I saw that she could too, I was in. I jumped up and raced to my bedroom. I pulled a manila folder filled with sketches. Her favorite of mine was a very overworked crosshatched sketch of the killer peeking through the door at the old man's eye in Poe's, "The Tell-Tale Heart". My favorite artist is Robert Crumb and he and I are both obsessed with asses. She saw numerous drawings of woman's bubble butts. She had one herself. Her jeans revealed it by the time I watched her strut to the kitchen.

"Your stuff is very original," she said. "I am jealous."

"Thanks," I said.

I looked up at her. Her eyes locked on to me. We both looked in each other's eyes, down to the nose, and on to the lips, then back up to the eyes. We met halfway leaning into each other. Our lips completely missed each other's as our tongues tapped together first. I felt her smile and sucked on parts of it. My penis was a rock-solid icicle. I pushed her back into the sofa and put my hips between her legs. I practiced thrusting into her a few times through are clothes. I kissed her neck but only to give her mouth a break. Her tight red tank top revealed her belly button. I caressed her stomach feeling the soft light fuzzy hair. My fingers crawled under tank top like a spider and cupped her breast. The spider backtracked and moved under her bra to the soft malleable skin around her nipple. I gently palmed the back of her head like a basketball and placed my tongue between her teeth once again. I felt her smile. My penis was a dripping volcano.

"You want to take this to the bedroom?" she said.

"Ok," I said.

We both got up and walked. This time I did not hide my erection that was stretching my boxers and orange linen pants. We entered my dad's room that had a decent enough light from the hallway. I took off my shirt and ran and jumped into the bed. The springs squealed. She followed, first setting down her purse and then taking off her sockless Keds. I kicked off my Crocks to the tile. She lifted off her red tank top and folded it leaving on her bra. Her two hands met together as she unbuttoned her tight jeans and slid them down. What was left was a tiny red thong. She turned around to toss her jeans on an old rocking chair in the corner. Her little silk thong could barely contain the bubbly white smoothness of her ass.

She crawled on the bed and over me. This time when my tongue moved in between her teeth, both of my palms cuffed the cold wobble flesh of the bottom of her ass. I moved slowly over her goosebumps and my cock screamed. She heard it and unbuttoned my denim pants and pulled them down to above my knees. Next, she did the same to my boxers. Air circulated my erected dripping penis. There was a traffic jam of clothing over my knee caps. I rolled over and threw them across the room. When my tongue went in between her teeth again, her hands grabbed my penis and balls. I reversed a few feet and gently pulled over her thong. I went back and put my tongue between her legs. I moved it around as her ass kept leaving the mattress and falling back down. Oh God, this has been too fucking long. I need to do this more often!

Neither of us verbalized any sort of protection. I will pull out! I crawled back up and our tongues tickled each other's. I felt her smile and the fresh air that came out of it. I felt her grab my dick that had its own elevated heartbeat. She angled it and the head of my penis felt a door. The door cushioned the top of my penis. I decided to test its durability. There was none. I slid right into her fucking happy place. I was all in and then slid back out. I picked up her back-right leg and put her calf over my shoulder. The bed rocked so bad I thought it was going to break.

"Oh shit, oh yeah," she said. "Fuck me Jay!"

I am quiet in bed, but I did. I bounced in and out of her pussy for eight crazy minutes.

We went to the master bedroom sink and washed each other's genitals. I was depressed that it was over. I wanted to replay the last twenty minutes a thousand times. I settled for a glass of water a few Marlboro lights instead. We watched, "The Graduate".

I jumped up and ran the walk-in shower. She joined me and we both washed each other. The water was hot, and the body wash was dripping. I went over her tits several times. I went over her ass twenty times. Washing, palming, and pinching each cheek.

"You want to go out in the pool?" I said.

"We just showered!" she said.

"I will leave the shower on," I said.

"I slid the back slider and watched her ass jiggle with each step towards the shallow end stairs. The water was like an emerald blue. She walked down the third step and I came in and took her from behind. Her palms and fingers splayed out on the pool deck as I watched her ass jiggle with each thrust. I put my arms under her and found her tits. I kept molesting them as my thrusts became animalist. She moaned under the moonlight.

"Come on baby," I said. "You feel so fucking good!"

The thrashing chlorine water fell all over the pool deck. Her glowing blue ass cheeks vibrating with each smack. My penis hit that point were the load of seamen was shooting out. The point of no return. The pause before the explosion.

"Oh, little girl, God help me!" I said.

I never pulled out and sprayed my pressure deep inside her.

"Oh fuck!" I said.

That oh fuck had multiple meanings at the time.

We showered and drank more water. Smoked two more cigarettes and went to bed. She rolled on top of me in the morning. We started kissing and her right hand found my dick. She pulled down her red tiny thong only three inches and sat on my cock. I held her waste and watched her face. We were sober, and she was fucking me. I watched her ride my morning wood. My hands crawled up her torso like spiders and massaged her tits. They were not huge tits but very satisfying.

"Oh Jay," she said. "You feel so good."

I got dizzy and came. I am not sure if she did or not. I was twenty-one and didn't care.

We showered again at the same time but washed are own bodies.

"I am going to see my sister today," she said.

It was Saturday, so I figured we would have another amazing night tonight.

"You want to have dinner tonight?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

She pulled away in her silver Volkswagen Bug. I didn't know what to do with myself.

The Relationship

We slipped into a weekend routine of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I was addicted but slowly realized I was not in love. In fact, I actually hated parts of her personality. The sex was too good, and she was too beautiful to just give up.

My dad came back home and a sort of moved in with her and her sister.

Over months, what unfolded by her family and friends to me, was that she had borderline personality disorder, was a cutter who cut her skin around her ankles and was promiscuous. I saw the bloody artwork around her ankles, her psychiatrist's prescribed medication, and her hidden journal of multiple sexual partners. I luckily was the animalistic one.

"You're playing with fire!" my best friend said.

Three consecutive months, I expected to hear I'm pregnant. I was lucky it never happened. I had it with the bloody cotton balls in the bathroom trash. The marijuana paraphernalia everywhere. Her cell phone ringing with strange numbers that she did not answer in front of me. Zanex pills loose in the sheets of our bed. I broke it off and went back to my dad's.

If anyone wants another similar version of what happened next. Please watch Clint Eastwood's, "Play Misty for Me".

My car was covered in lipstick stating that I was a bad lay. There would be odd things like Mexican clay crucifixes by my front door. My phone would ring at four in the morning from odd numbers. I would find her cigarette butts with her lipstick stains in my driveway. My dogs would bark late at night. I was terrified.

The weird stuff stopped. I moved in with my mom on the other side of town. I bought some beer and scored some pot and went home to watch American History X. I had six beers and opened my upstairs window to smoke a few cigarettes although my mom didn't care if I smoke them in the house. My cell phone rang. I answered it. It was Shannon.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I said.

I was buzzed, very lonely, and very horny. And yes, I invited my psychotic ex over for a movie date. I had a wooden ladder in my closet and she climbed up the second story window because my mother slept downstairs. The ladder shook as I held it. Out of the darkness, her blue eyes appeared first.

She was wearing a black tank top, tight jeans, her brown hair was very short. She smelled like Gardenias. She sat by the window and smoked a ton of pot. I came up behind her and started playing with her tits. She had on no bra. I loved how the thin fabric felt draping her soft breasts and nipples. I unbuckled her belt and from behind, slide her obnoxiously tight jeans exposing her protruding wobbling ass cheeks. I bent her down, so her palms gripped the window sill. If any neighbors were walking through the parking lot, they would have had a great show. Her ass cheeks jiggled around my penis as my thighs burned. I was out of sex shape. I pulled out and came all over her buns. As soon as I came, the darkness came. My world became black and lonely. It was me with a horrible lie and one psychotic girl who was scary lost.

We smoked more pot and put on American History X. There was something different about us. It was almost as if we both wanted one more test drive before leaving the track. I was so high and horrified when Ed Norton gave that man a watermelon on the curb. I crawled into Shannon's lap shivering with horror. She was not affected like I was. I think that is what I hated about her. How could an artist like her not be morbidly sensitive like me?

"You're such a fucking pussy," she said. "I need a real man."

I think at that moment, we both equally hated each other but the drama was gone. It wasn't worth it anymore. We became totally indifferent of each other. In the early morning she walked down the ladder and walked across two parking lots to her silver buggy. She never turned around.

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