PIT The Fields 6

Points In Time

Topanga Village , California

Saturday May 19,1986

2:20 p.m.

“Ummm.” My face alongside Sandy’s face I hear her moan. I see the movement of her hand on Ken’s dick and this further excites me and I feel the jetting bubbling water…

I’m not fucking her!

“Ummmm!” I hear Sandy — or is it me?

The air jet forcing the foaming, bubbling water through Sandy's thighs and erotically onto and around my dick…

My arms now even tighter about Sandy’s upper stomach, her hanging tits rubbing over my forearms…

But… I didn’t want it to go this far!

My breathing coming harder, faster…

I don’t want it to go this far….

I’m not! I’m not fucking her.’

“Fuck, yes!” I hear Sandy whisper.

I see her hand manipulating Ken’s dick.

Her ass thumping onto me…

A bit louder than a mere whisper… “Fuck, yes!”

Her ass moving from me..

I’m not… I’m not in her! I tell myself– thinking more that we’re masturbating each other. Yeah, sure... with her pussy and my dick… ‘Really’!

Her ass thumping onto me… I find myself going forward and back with her motions.

I’m…

“Oh, God!”

A guy knows when he has a boner, and when every spongy cell is filled with blood that boner will begin to pleasantly throb…

My dick was throbbing…

….and rubbing onto and between and onto, and...

Having to go somewhere...

“Oh, God!”

Had to go somewhere…

...It ‘came’.

My arms still tightly about Sandy’s upper stomach… Her tits still laying over my forearms... Sandy’s ass hard against my dick...

Sensing that momentary dull acne in my testicles after I ‘come’ hard… ‘Really’ hard!

The fore and back motion stopping.

No longer a whisper. “Fuck, ‘yeah’!”

Did I fuck her??

The blood in the cells reversing...

Was I even in her?

My dick jerking inward… The ache in my balls gone now.

Was it the water? Was it the wine? Was I actually inside Sand?

I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure of what had just happened.

Did I just fuck her?

Always amazed at how quickly I ‘return to earth’ after.

As wisps of thoughts, a number of thoughts rushed through my mind:

1… If I ‘came’ now, would my semen dissolve in the warm swirling water or would it float to the top and, if it did float to the top, would it be recognizable as semen or just meld into the bubbling foam?

Also, along these lines, if ‘I’ ‘came’ in the water, how many other guys may have ‘come’ in this water, that I am now standing near chest deep in?

If I ‘was’ fucking her, and ‘did’ ‘come’ in her, it’s got to leak out into this water that I am now standing near chest deep in,

I smell the scent of ‘chlorine’, but it’s feint scent.

2… I thought of Gwen’s admonishment about ‘becoming too friendly’. And my thoughts of ‘a Jacuzzi big enough to hold a number of naked people at the same time’? This is a way to keep people from becoming ‘too friendly’? Go figure I’d be one those ‘really’ friendly people.

3…If I wanted to — not now, but another time— Would Ken be upset if I asked Sandy to join me in one of those rooms ‘where people go when they feel themselves becoming ‘very’ friendly where they can have some privacy’?

Though I rather thought she would, would Sandy want to go to one of those ‘friendly rooms’ with me?

4… Also — considering how our marriage was going and the fact that I no longer have my kids to worry about — am I prepared to have an affair again? Because, knowing myself, if I did make love to Sandy I would ‘definitely’ want to do it again; recalling my affair with Elizabeth Herzon – whom I still thought of and still thought I loved – that ended outside of a Chicago divorce attorney’s office in November of 1963.

Ken, still sitting with his legs dangling in the water, in the minute or so since… since I did ‘whatever’ it was that I did, Other than my dick still held tightly between Sandy’s thighs, Sandy and I had not changed positions— her back and my front closely melded... except now her head lay across her crossed arms inches from Kens now nearly… not ‘all’ but Ken’s now ‘nearly’ retracted dick causing me to wonder.. where did his come go? Into the water that I am now standing nearly chest deep in, or did did she? Storing that question for future consideration.

Un-melding us. “So…” Sandy asked “ ...you plan on coming back?”

“To Elysium ?”

“Yeah here…” her wet front now very close to my wet front–causing a twitch in my dick “… you going to join up?”

"Oh, yeah, Sandy. I think so.”

“You going to tell your wife you joined a nudest park?”

Guess I’ll have to eventually. And if she’s still not talking to me by tomorrow. I just might be back and sign up tomorrow.

3:32 p.m.

As the motto: ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’!...’What

happens at Elysium stays at Elysium’!

So, though spending the day and becoming fast friends, we three knew that our friendship, along with any personal information, at least until we know each other better– if we ever get to knew each other better, was to remain private. So no telephone numbers were exchanged and any future meetings– at least for the time being, would be strictly coincidental.

Sanding, working my riding shorts on and pulling my jersey over my head and on. Sitting again, my socks and cycling shoes. The beach towel stuffed back into the pannier.

“Hey, it was really nice meeting you both...” I said. “...hope we do it again.”

“Yeah, Mitch.”

We shook hands.

How I hated saying...“Bye, Sandy.”

Standing, coming to me, placing her arms onto my shoulders

“ I ‘really’ enjoyed being with you.”

“Teasing me, you mean.”

“Maybe a ‘little’ more than ‘just’ teasing’. But yeah, that, too.”

Urging me closer. “But I’d ‘love’ to get together with you again… ‘soon’!

Sandy’s tone of voice, her inflection telling me that maybe our ‘getting together’ did not necessarily have to be here, at Elysium which was something that might lead me back to a divorce lawyer which is something I certainly did not want to do.

But, here, now...

“Yeah…” Hugging her. Her naked tits pressing hard onto my chest. My hands cupping both cheeks of her ass – God, how I love the feel of Sandy’s soft ass in my hands.

Now being the first time I’d had a ‘really ‘ confining ‘boner in spandex cycling shorts.

“Yeah, me, too, Sandy...” I said, matching her sultry tone “...I want to get together again with you too... ‘real’ soon also.”

Truly hating to leave, but…

“Bye.”

Wondering what I would face once I returned home, this erotically beautiful day’s mellow feeling dissipating the closer I came to home, and to my wife.

Woodland Hills, Ca.

Saturday May 19,1986

3:50 p.m.

“Hi.!”

A balmy breeze coming through the open patio door… The television on, but completely unaware, Marsha Lipensky dozed in that extremely comfortable plateau where not asleep and not awake the remembrance less than a dream and more than a thought.

She loved Stan Jacobson.

Still to this day, Marsha Goldman Lipensky loved Stan Jacobson

Marsha had not seen Stan since November of 1955,— one month before her marriage to Mitchell, and would have no idea what he might look like all these near thirty-two years past.

Would the Roosevelt High School star basket ball player still be as slim and as muscled and handsome as he’d been at seventeen years of age.

Was Stan still into the muscle building exercises that had made his nude body to— At the time fifteen year old Marsha Goldman loved to lie nude alongside Stan, running her hands over his blonde haired chest and onto his taunt stomach and noticeably muscled thighs and… Marsha Goldman loved the sensation of his long penis as it grew three times it’s relaxed state as she held it in her hand…

Taking her virginity at age fourteen, Marsha Goldman loved the sensation of Stan Jacobson’s penis within her vagina as they made love; always, though with ‘protection’ ….

“Hi!”

The television on, but completely unaware, Marsha Lipensky dozed in that extremely comfortable plateau.

“Hi!”

Glancing at Mitchell as he entered the room. Wordlessly bringing her attention back to the television, then doing a quick ‘double-take’. Her eyebrows moving upward, her eyes widening, Marsha stared at her husband for a slow three count, then, with a lip curling sign of disgust – that Mitchell so recognized – turned back to the television.

Noting the look on Marsha’s face as she’d stared, fighting an urge to look downward to see if he’d zipped his fly, but cycling shorts having no fly, wondering why the look, he simply stared back.

Next PIT:The Fields 7