THE ICONOCLAST. Installment 4
“Good evening Dr. Peterson. We never see you. I do hope we could get to know you better.”
“My loss, but I promise you I’m going to do better.” This said with only a slight trace of sincerity.
She was about forty-five. Looked good. Enormous breasts. “You look trim and slim, Mrs. Rocco.”
“Oh Dr. Peterson, I’m into jogging, five miles a day. Maybe sometime when you are in town, we could go for a run.”
“I’d like that,” whether it was a come on or not, I decided not to take it any further.
I always did a lot of reflection about my life. I knew the Myers Briggs Type Indicator and knew I was an ENTP, which fit pretty well. I surely was an extravert but could go inside if need be. Surely an iNtuitive, always thinking and figuring out things. Jung said we all have a shadow, tell me about it. My love for pussy baffled me in a sense but then it didn’t. Here’s what I think is the story. We had moved to a new community. I don’t know why, I was thirteen and my brother was graduating high school. I think it had to do with my Dad buying this clothing store. Now, that I look back on it, his hippy views would be so out of context. I liked my school and was enough of a loner that my outsider persona didn’t bother me and so it seemed, I was one of the gang pretty soon. When you don’t give a shit whether people like you or not, they usually do. This was a realization that I seemed to employ throughout my life. We lived in this house outside of town. Mom seem to be moping around a good bit and I was on my own lots. There were probably things going on that I didn’t know about.
Next to us was a family, who lived in a really a run down house, I thought. The roof was tin as was ours but theirs kind of rolled up. The place had not seen any paint for a long time. An old car sat to the side, a wreck, I guess. I was in an age between two of the boys. One, everybody called, Rabbit. I don’t know why, the older one seemed always hostile. Damn if I know. What I do know was a strange sort of phenomena. Several times a week, this guy called Joe would come with his beautiful wife and two children. They would visit awhile and he would leave with one of the older boys. I don’t think up until that time, I had even gone into their house. Rabbit and I were playing catch, the first time I saw the woman up close. I had never seen a grown woman that beautiful. She had on a calico dress as they called them in the day. Her skin was so white. Without even thinking my dick would get hard, my mouth dry and I could not resist starring. She was to serve as an object of my love and fantasy for masturbation. I would go to the barn and masturbate.
My mom caught me once and gave me the dickens. I was sure she was going to make a big deal out of it. She did tell Dad and he came down to the barn where I was semi hiding out. He laughed and then launched into a sex education class. “Son, your body is like a big old steam furnace that heats a building. Occasionally, it has to blow off steam. It is the same with your body, it is a boiler and on occasion it has to blow off steam and so when you do what you did, you are blowing off steam. There’s nothing wrong with it but most people are not quite willing to talk about it.” Then He didn’t say anything for a bit and I could see that he was proud that he thought of these things to say. I wondered if he had ever talked with my brother. If he had, my brother had never mentioned it. I was a little embarrassed. Dad must have realized it and said, “Son, here’s what you have to remember.” Then he paused smiled and said, “don’t let your mother catch you.” My Dad was so great. I still wondered why he gave up teaching to run a clothes store.
I was thirteen and all I could think about was the white skin of Mrs. Shirley. Think about it, I'm thirteen going on twenty. My dick stays hard all the time. I am masturbating about three times a day. It is what farm boys do. My best friend during those years was another teenager named Chester. We use to "beat" off together to see who could get off first. These are topics nobody talked about. I hardly had any semen at first and Chester was beating me bigtime. We were absolutely fascinated with our dicks. Someone told me once that all men loved their dicks. I think so. And most started the loving way back in those teen yesteryears. When Chester moved, I lost my jackoff partner and it was devastating. I couldn't talk to anybody. I had a wealth of questions.
Dad had tried to give me the talk but he was fumbling around mostly and looking at his feet. It is a difficult subject to talk about I guess. He was at heart, a school teacher and I guess should have been able to be more proficient at it but then again, who knows. I do know that my brother knew next to nothing and didn’t seem to care. He was playing ball and hanging out. And then Mrs Shirley showed her. Her white skin is mostly all I could think about. She came every Thursday and Friday and you better believe Rabbit became my best friend. In the early days, she stayed on the porch and rocked her baby back and forth. When the time changed which I hated, I lost my fantasy of looking up her dress. Rabbit always wanted to do something and I wanted to stay around Mrs Shirley. Then as I look back on it, there came a day when it all changed. It was dark and Rabbit had gone inside. For some reason that was related to Mrs Shirley, I quietly walked up the steps. I could hear her rocking the baby. I stood outside the door and then gently opened it. Mrs. Shirley who was lying on the bed, raised up on her hands and looked at me. I fully expected her to tell me to scram but she whispered, “come in.” I stood by the bed. She took my hand and moved it to her pussy. I almost fainted. She was moist. There was all this fuzzy hair I think but I didn’t know. Somehow, instinctively, I started to get on her. I thought I knew what to do. She said, “no” and at the same times felt me through my jeans. “Unbutton them.” she whispered. I did and she took my cock in her hands and said, “big for a boy.” I didn't know what to say as she began to gently masturbate me. I had never felt anything like it. When I came, I almost screamed. She whispered, “quiet. Button up and you need to go. We can't be caught.” I slipped out the door.
For the rest of the night and when Friday dawned and I was waiting for the bus, it was all I could think about, replaying the evening in my mind. I might have dreamed it. Every time it entered my mind, I played it in my head and my cock would get rock hard. It was the most wonderful feeling of my life. I didn’t eat anything for breakfast. “What is wrong with you, boy?” How could I tell her or anybody. No way. I grabbed a biscuit and went out the door. The day moved as slow as molasses. I could not wait to see her again. Finally, I could stand it no longer and went to see Rabbit. It was time. Here was Joe. She wasn’t with him. I couldn’t asked. I wanted to cry, where was she? I guess this was being in love. For a few days I moped around. More than once Dad wanted to know what was wrong? Oh nothing. Finally, Thursday came and still no Mrs. Shirley. Damn, fuck under my breath, I kept saying. I couldn’t tell anybody. Fuck, my Mom would kill me if she heard me saying that, “nasty” word as she would call it. But, I was hurting. Friday, still no Mrs. Shirley. What could I do? I didn’t even know where she lived. I at least wanted to tell her that I loved her. She was a grown woman and I was a boy. I guess this is what happens. And, then on Thursday, she was back. I looked at her, kind of sheepishly and she smiled. Rabbit and I played. She went to the room. I pretended to go home. I silently crept into her room again. She smiled at me. I was waiting, not knowing what to do. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “Know why I didn’t come last week?’ Without waiting for me to answer she said, “I was afraid you would tell someone what I did. And, if you did, it would ruin my reputation, hurt me and my family.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” As I remember, I think I said something like, “I never even thought of it, why would I tell?” She smiled. “Would you ever tell anybody?”
“No, why?”
“Well, I just wondered.” Do you promise?”
“Of course, I promise.” With that, she started caressing my cock and masturbated me again. But, this time when I started to come which seemed to be much more, she let it go in her mouth. I was so blown away. “Protein,” she said.
Thus began two years of the most fabulous time of my young life. I never talked and in later life, someone said to me as I was BSing about starting sex early, relating a little of the tale. It was “child abuse.” I laughed and would invariably say, “it was heaven.” And, it was. Probably all men have some older woman tale, at least fantasy. The sex was great and she taught me but it was more. For one thing, there was the secrecy of it which was exhilarating. From time to time, she would talk to me about talking again. “You might get tempted sometimes, people talk.” I would reassure her. And, I never did. In fact, I got so much pussy in high school and as I look back on it--totally related to the idea that, “he doesn’t talk.” High School boys love to talk about their exploits but not me.
She taught me about her body. Touch this, lightly, a little more force. Lick, don’t suck. All women are different, have to search out how they respond. And, women “come” in different ways. Love women, she would say. But, I just love you. She would smile as if knowing it but understanding too. Of all the things that burned their way into my mind, the fact that sex was a great gift and as long as I was interested more in the pleasure of my partner, the greater it would be for me. I don’t think I really got it then but did later in life. Sometimes, she would arrange to go to a larger town where we could have hours. She would always say during those times, “never waste a hard dick,” and we didn’t. There are a lot of tentacles to a relationship of a fifteen year old boy with no life experiences and a woman twice his age. What I knew was that I loved this woman with all my heart. It was so much that it hurt sometimes. She understood.
She was so careful to avoid discovery. I don’t know how we did it. I think it had to do with the idea that nobody really paid much attention and from time to time, she would tell me not to visit Rabbit, to throw them off track. It became a ritual. Mom and Dad would say to me on occasion, “Boy, why are you so lethargic?” Well, Dad, I would say in my head, I am pussy whipped. And, then in my head, I was smiling. It was a term that I had learned from the older boys who often hung out with my brother. They didn’t half know what they meant. If they only knew. There was some pleasure in my secret but not one time was I ever tempted to tell anybody.
Did I say that I think people can smell pussy on you. I was fifteen or I think I had turned sixteen and missed the school bus and so I had to hitchhike or run to school. My Sunday School teacher picked me up. She chastised me for missing school but then said that she needed my help. She was trying to find a lost picture album and had a ladder to use but was scared of doing it on her own. I was at the bottom holding the ladder and could see up her dress, “Don’t be bashful, go up under my dress and hold me,” she said. I was a little embarrassed but I did it and felt this mount of hair and her pussy lips. I gently caressed them. She moaned and then I ran my fingers to the top of her pussy and touched the clitoris. She moaned. I gently stroked it, suddenly, she began to shake, the whole ladder was shaking with her orgasm. When she climbed down, she was still shaking slightly. When she returned from the bathroom, she didn’t say a thing but locked the door. “Sit on the couch,” she said. She knelt before me and unbuttoned my jeans. My cock was rock hard.
“I’ve heard you have a nice cock. I’ve got to have it.” she said as my cock penetrated. Briefly I thought, how would she know. She came immediately. She waited just a couple of seconds and then started again. She was so wet. She got off about five times and the last one, I couldn’t hold any longer and shot off. I momentarily thought of her getting pregnant but she didn’t seem to mind. I think I was feeling a little guilty, an emotion that Marcie said was useless. Mrs. Merriweather was taking a chance in a way. What if I was one to tell. I think she knew I wouldn’t. Somehow, I knew that this was not going to be the last time we had sex. I felt a little better when she mention that her husband had not touched her in years. He seemed like a nice guy and yet I don’t think if I had ever spoken to him a single time. I think I liked him. He was mostly bald but combed his hair in such a way that hair covered everything.
Marcie had taught me with ideas like, sex is natural but you always have to be responsible. It was kind of distracting to listen if your cock is in a wet pussy. But, nevertheless, it was a good diatribe about loaded terms like adultery, unfaithful, and even philandering. I hardly understood any of it. Still, it must have penetrated my psyche as it was a driving force my entire life. “Don’t interfere with another’s relationship. There should be a reason that sex is involved. And, then she would relate the case of her own husband, “a sorry ass adulterer” she would call him. When she saw me recoil from that character iteration, she would pat me and say, so what my darling if I am getting back at him. I am having more fun than he is.” I never knew what to say.
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Merriweather said down the road, “I’m past that.” To be honest then, I didn’t even know what she meant but later on figured out she meant pregnancy. That was one morning that I left for school pretty happy. I never mentioned it to Marcie. I just kept secrets I guess. It seemed the thing to do. I thought about it a bit but in my young mind, thought that I owed my Sunday School teacher not telling. How the hell I was that good at it is beyond me. I can only say that my Sunday School teacher and I enjoyed lots of sex until I left for college. The only thing that ever bothered me about her was that she was pretty reckless. I’m sixteen and seem to” get” what it is. Fucking and getting off but she seemed to be insatiable. I know it now and always wanted it when I was around, which I made a point to be often. Why? Well, sex was about all that I thought about. This was nothing new with me but then, I stayed a little confused. I briefly thought about telling someone just to see if my other buds felt the same way. I rejected the idea of asking because all the guys I knew talked as though it was all they did. My brother included. We had this gigantic grocery store, just down from our house. Across the street was another smaller store that had a pool table in the middle. I started playing against my Dad’s advice but like so much in life, he didn’t ever say no, just a warning. These guys in the pool hall were a few years older and their playing was constantly interspersed with their sexual exploits. I took it as gospel. It was only later in life that I realized they were probably lying. Regardless, this fueled my knowledge and made it seem more like all this fucking is what I am suppose to be doing. It really was like I had my own private sex education classes. Nobody ever talked about sex in terms of education. This predates things like the pill and woman’s lib although to be perfectly honest, I’m really not sure that we are much better today. Really good sex ed that should be taught to High School kids is simply not there as sexuality has become one of those political wedge issues and none of us are any better for it. Marci taught me that sex is pleasurable. She would say to me over and over, “sex with someone you love or care about is as close to heaven as you can get.” I believed her.
One complicating thing with Mrs. Merriweather was her daughters. She had two and a son that seemed to be one of these larger than life figures but never present. The other sister had a steady boyfriend and around her I always felt invisible. I didn’t care and seemed to be around lots. At least it seemed that way to me and so the other daughter and I started dating with her mother’s encouragement. In fact, a really funny encounter happened with the daughter. It wasn’t funny at the time and for a teenage boy, it was bigtime trauma. We were parked out at one of the favorite teenage spots, it was this little overlook which was in essence, a hill that showed the lights in the distance of our town. The cars were lined up for blocks it seems. Mary and I were necking and things were getting pretty hot. She whispered in my ear, “Please don’t hurt me.” This was the signal that she was a virgin. OK, I reached down for Elvis which was always ready and it was wilted lettuce. What! I could not believe it. I didn’t know what to do. It had always been “on call.” Help!
I can’t even remember what I did but I surely remember the event. It began an internal joke with me. I must have “beat” it close to death over the next week or so to make sure it was working. I guess Elvis was just tired. And, my School teacher seemed to always want it. Once there were people in the house and she leaned over the kitchen table and motioned me over and pulled aside her panties. I didn’t know what to do. But, then entered her from behind. Immediately she would come. She moved me out, smiled and went about her business. I was aghast. I am a “come” nut she once told me smiling. But, I learned too. She taught me how to put on a condom. “If you are going to be fucking half the women in town, you have to protect yourself and them.” I sat on the couch and she gently stroked my cock until it got hard. Then she took the condom, gently placed it on Elvis, unrolled it. “Always make sure it goes to the very end of your great copulatory organ,” she would say as she laughed. “You do not want it coming off. And, don’t buy them in town, go to another town. Too much talk. Get large ones”, she would laugh again. More than likely the sex education lesson would end with her getting “off” several times.
This sounds like some sordid tale that could only be in a sooty magazine but it isn’t. It was kind of an education for me. I never one time thought anything being bad but a great gift, even if I couldn’t articulate it then. Inwardly, I was always smiling. No bullshit.
There were rumors that there were NVA in the area. This always called for a tighten asshole. They could fight, were well disciplined, and something I always remembered: they were fighting for their homeland or at least I thought so. I had been in Nam almost no time when I realized that we were fighting a bullshit war and let's just get the fuck out. Barring that, at least keep the troops alive. We had a new platoon sergeant who had his shit together and he often acted as the field first sergeant. Andy and I would sit and bullshit for hours. He was what I called with great affection: a combat soldier with portfolio. He got a charge out of it. He lived for war, for fighting. He started out in the Marines but didn't like their policies of rotation. They would let him come to Nam for a few months and then bring him home. The army didn't give a shit. He could stay in Nam forever. Working on his fifth year, he had finagled a tour with us because he heard and rightly so that all we did was fight. And, he was right. We had the reputation of getting the most gung ho battalion commanders. Make that mostly ambitious. The mother fuckers didn't want anything but to get in their six months and get the hell out with a bunch of hero medals, one or two “water walker” OERs and they were on the way to general. Platoon sergeant Anderson didn't give a shit. He liked me because I was such a cunt hound as he called me." How do you know?"
"I can just tell." He would constantly say, "Captain Peterson, tell me some pussy stories.” We would die laughing. Andy taught me a hell of a lot about soldiering. One of the things was that if we suspected NVA, we wanted to let them know if they got in a firefight with us, they were going to be in for one hell of a bruising. "Al, call third platoon and tell them to light up that tree line." Al had no more called than Andy had a fifty caliber barking and the trees exploded with fire. Then it all went quiet. Eerily quiet: Al, seemed a little quiet. Andy is quiet. “The NVA fuckers are just taking a break”, I thought but then there's a kind of sense that comes over you in combat. It is what makes it different than anything else. A kind of tattoo that is implanted on your soul and you never get over it. An inexplicable uneasiness sets in. Kind of like an overlay of depression. The stress of combat I guess. The radio went off. "6, a bird is enroute to your location from Alpha and Delta. A little parlay. Something big.”
“Roger that”. Al was quiet.
Andy said, "Cap," he rarely called me with any title. Andy, for being on occasion boisterous, was surprisingly serious. Finally he said, “Guess they got a big conference for you bigwigs." He half smiled. "You ever thought that the VC monitors radio traffic."
Odd comment. "No, not really."
"What about the NVA?"
"Haven't thought much about it."
"Why?"
"Don't know, just haven't."
"If they did, they could be waiting for the chopper to blow your ass away."
The radio went off from one of the platoons. I heard Al saying, "I'll tell him." Long Silence
Before the chopper arrived, I wanted to make sure that all was calm while I was in at Battalion, "Al, call 1st platoon and see if they can snake toward the tree line and draw fire." I started walking toward the 3d platoon's location. Something made me weary but like so much of combat, I didn't have a clue. Just as I got to 3d platoon, I heard the chopper coming over the tree line and glanced up at it just as it swung wide over our location and suddenly, the helicopter changed course like it was headed to the fire support base. Al had waved them off by popping red smoke. What the fuck was he doing? Just then, the sound of an RPG rattled my eardrums with a direct hit and the bird shredded into a thousand pieces. Fuck. I was stunned. Two of my brother company commanders and the air crew. Mother fucker, no wonder those sons of bitches were quiet, they were waiting and would have gotten my ass too had not Al waved them off. Oh my God.
I was tired beyond belief. We had three quick jumps in succession. They all were in the middle of the night. Three of the platoon's best troopers were hurt. One pretty serious. He had collapsed his chute way to quickly, probably thinking he was on the ground or these guys got to be so damn macho. It is what being so macho is all about. The truth was that he busted through some low hanging limbs and they'd beaten him up badly breaking ribs and maybe internal injuries. I felt a hundred years old. Fuck. Anyway, I'd been up for two days with little sleep. I was going to Denver to meet a military contractor who was trying to sell us some chutes that were tear proof. Tearing was a big problem as we often were in tall trees or close to buildings that we didn't know about. My trip was kind of a boondoggle, wasting the taxpayer's money but the platoon needed a break. We wanted our chutes intact and who knows, this could be worthwhile. I was sitting in the middle seat. I didn't like the middle for lots of reasons; mainly I think I'm slightly claustrophobic, the aisle seat was better. Just as I started to get in, this scraggly haired kid, dread locks even, said, "Would you mind giving up your aisle seat so I can sit with my wife. I almost said no hated jerks so I nodded. Sitting in the aisle seat across from me was this little Asian girl, not all that attractive. I guessed Japanese. I made some asshole smart alecky remark as my dad would say, "can't believe I'm giving up my aisle seat." She said something like, "We are all giving up something." "Well, I am a pretty interesting guy so maybe we could talk." When I heard it coming out my mouth, I was sorry. Some self-centered asshole she probably thought. "Or, maybe we could sleep." Well said I though, putting down some self-centered motherfucker like myself.
She immediately went fast asleep. I love to watch a woman sleep. There is something soothing to it. I am crazy and at first stole a few glances but then she was so sound asleep I didn't have to sneak a peek, I just looked. I can't tell if she's Japanese or Chinese, Filipino. Damn if I knew. The more I looked at her, the more beautiful and sensuous she became. I watched with adoration. She opened her eyes and then closed them. She opened them again and closed them, half in and out of consciousness. She was wearing jeans with a blue sweater and a wool red scarf. Her jeans were tight and I immediate went to figuratively running my hands between her legs. She sat up in her seat. Stretched a bit, smiled at me and then stood up, took a bag from the overhead and walked toward the bathroom. I blew out my breathe a couple of times. She slid back into the seat. She leaned toward me while twisting in her seat, "I needed to put my diaphragm in," she whispered. I was at a loss. "Do you want to be a member of the mile high club?" I smiled while thinking as my adrenalin was pumping and my blood pressure hovered around three thousand. I didn't want to tell her I already was a member. Once, I fucked a little Korean woman three times on a flight from CA to NY. Wow, now that was an experience.
She touched my arm and walked toward the back. I followed. She looked around and went into the bathroom. I followed her. She was immediately grabbing for my cock. I was helping her but Elvis was only half awake. She reached over and began to lightly suck. Her brown skill against the whiteness of my dick was a turn on for sure. Elvis did respond and she stroked it a couple of times. Her jeans came off like magic. She sat back against the sink and spread her legs and I started to slide in. She put her hand to her mouth and added saliva to her little hairless pussy. It still was tight. She was moaning. I went down and applied a generous amount of saliva and even with that I could only get about half way in, she moaned and kind of grunted and then said in a whisper, "I got it. I got it." With that she shivered and shivered and suddenly was still. I pulled out. I straightened up my trousers and went out. Shortly she returned and slightly smiled. Then she laughed out loud and broke out in this broad grin, "I've always wanted to do that." She went back to sleep.