PIT #14: The Hit

Points In Time

Topanga Canyon, California

Saturday, May 17, 1986

1:20 p.m.

“Yeah, I saw him and his wife at our twenty-fifth Roosevelt reunion.”

“ ‘His wife’? Anyone we know?”

“Yeah. Remember Harlene Pearlman?”

“ ‘Harlene Pearlman’? The cheerleader with the big tits that all the guys wanted to get into her pants? He married ‘her’?”

“Yeah, well… You know how it is with those muscle guys that in time stop being musclebound… All that muscle turns to flab and Stan and Harlene both looked like big butterballs.”

‘Like big butter balls’. Leaning back now. Feeling the shifting sun that now warmed ‘all’ of Marsha Goldman Lipensky.

Shifting her body—laying her head onto her husband’s warm thigh. Taking hold of his hand and laying it flat onto her chest, between the spread of her flattened breasts Marsha closed her eyes… ‘A butterball’!

Unlike Mitchell Lipensky whom had never again seen nor heard of Susan Friedman since that mid-morning of ‘June seven, nineteen-fifty two’, when she had tearfully told him that she could no longer see him.

In Mitchell’s deep memory he still sees Susan at sixteen years of age appearing as a young Elizabeth Taylor and still — after all these many years feels love for her and still wonders if she had the life her parents had wished for her… Or even if Susan Friedman was still alive.

As for Marsha Lipensky... Now knowing how life had turned for Stanley Jacobson; whom he had married and what he had become…

No longer the handsome, extremely muscled young man he had been in memory, now is visualized by Marsha Lipensky as a middle aged fat man… As a ‘butterball’.

The hidden love of this boy now leaves the memory of Marsha Goldman Lipensky.

Eysium Fields

Saturday, May 17, 1986

2:12 PM

“Hey, how’s ‘bout more wine.”

The three couples sitting and lying on the butted side by side blankets, Morgan and Ken were into their second game of Backgammon… Which seemed to be the preferred board game at the fields of Elysium.

Between bites of sandwiches and munching on potato chips,

Sandy, Evie and Marsha were sitting in a semi-circle talking, facing him…

Or rather, sitting cross legged, Mitchell – still sensing the two swigs of moonshine, had placed himself in a position facing the women watching…

As they gesticulated with their hands – Mitchell watched the jiggling movement of the breasts of his wife and Sandy and, if Evie had anything to jiggle, he’d be watching her, too.

However, Evie was a woman, after all, and though her breasts, at least to Mitchell, were not in the least of interest. She did have the baldest pussy he’d ever seen and this did add to the stirring beneath the towel he’d lain over his crotch, ostensibly to catch bread and potato chip crumbs, and to keep his penis from becoming even more sunburned.

Being mere feet away, the thought and sight of the close proximity of three completely naked women, that he ‘was’ able to ‘focus’ and ‘concentrate’ on were certainly adding to the upstanding movement beneath the towel.

His wife’s age but childless, Sandy’s breasts, obviously, were firmer and prettier but, in this sitting position, having a bit more of a tummy, her moderately sized sloping breasts lay over the upper swell of her stomach.

Looking into the hairy tri-section of Sandy’s crotch he could, and certainly did see the furled pink outer lips of her vagina.

Whereas his wife, at age fifty, sitting hunched slightly forward, Marsha’s, to say the least, moderately sized breasts actually rested upon her stomach.

Having but one tiny visible vaginal lip – that this husband loved drawing into his mouth and sucking on, all that could be seen at this time within the crotch of his wife was the tightened fissure…

But, surprisingly, primarily it was the sight of his nude wife in this idyllic setting that caused his erection.

Glancing in his direction, their eyes touching, each quickly looked away, however, slightly changing positions, Sandy purposely opened a little more of herself to Mitchell’s view… which tended to turn Sandy on.

Looking at her husband and the towel on his lap, smiling, Marsha made a flicking motion with her forefinger and thumb reminding him of her, joking?, admonishment: ‘Better not concentrate too much, ‘cause…’ flicking his – at that time, limp penis with the tip of her finger ‘...I'll know when you do. And apparently she did.

As for Marsha? She was actually enjoying the conversation and company of both Evie and Sandy.

Also — unused to alcohol, rationalizing this day as a ‘Learning experience’, and mentally comparing penis sizes as a ‘learning experience’, curious about her reaction to the sight of other men’s sex organ…

Marsha’s conclusion regarding Kenneth was that – retracted and hiding within his pubic hair Ken’s cock was indeed smaller than her husbands. Which pleased her.

As a middle aged Jewish lady, never having seen an uncircumcised adult penis, and…

Just a bit drunk. Sneaking furtive glances… Noting the embossment of the glans of Morgan’s thick cock hidden beneath the near inch of dangling foreskin – sensing a twitch in her uterus, Marsha Lipensky had an erotic urge to dandle Morgan’s foreskin, to slide it back and forth… to see what it looked like beneath… and ‘possibly ‘ to go further.

Morgan, in Marsha’s slightly off kilter estimation — because hanging in full view from beneath the hem of the ‘sixties’ ti-dyed T-shirt it was easy to see that Morgan did have a large cock, but Morgan was an extremely hairy man, consequently Morgan and his, in Marsha’s opinion, large cock were – as a learning experience – of no interest to Marsha… ‘Maybe’.

Although, thinking: Should good girls even be interested in seeing guys, other than their husband’s cocks?

Well, yeah...Maybe, if that ‘good girl’ was still horny as hell... And drunk.

“Hey…” backgammon over, at least temporarily “...how’s ‘bout more wine.”

Looking over her shoulder. “Thought you’d never ask, Morgan.

Yeah...” Evie said, holding her plastic coffee cup forward“...I’d love more wine.”

Pulling the gallon jug of white wine from the ice chest, Morgan refilled the three ladies coffee cups.

“They allow alcohol in here?” Marsha inquired.

“Hard liquor, no...” Ken said “...but wine is okay...” pointing “… see Gwen?”

Marsha looked to see the big lady she’d met in the office this morning strolling about the field.

“She and a couple’a guys called ‘monitors’ check around every now and then to see if anyone’s breaking Elysium rules.”

“ What rules?”

“To check for the ‘hard stuff’— like what’s in Morgan’s little flask and to see if anyone’s getting, uh, just a bit ‘too’ friendly.”

In the years of their marriage, Mitchell had seen his wife drunk only once, and that was on moonshine in Peoria, Illinois on the ‘twenty-third of May in nineteen, fifty-nine’, when she was cajoled into taking the first drink of the clear, near tasteless liquid – until it hit bottom – from a Mason Jar, handed her by a… Okay, let’s call it as it was and who it was. The Mason Jar was handed...actually forced upon Marsha by ‘Hugh Ivy’, a ‘hillbilly’ neighbor. The second and third sips of ‘Pappy Yoakum’s Kickapoo Joy Juice’ were all Marsha’s idea.

“Hey!…” standing “...anyone want a ‘hit’?”

“A ‘hit’?” Marsha asked. “What kind of a ‘hit’?”

“ ‘Grass’...” Evie said, adding “...I’m ready!”

“ ‘Grass’?” Marsha questioned.

Slipping flip-flops onto his feet “ ‘Mary-Jane’?” Kenneth said.

“ ‘Mary-Jane’?” Marsha asked.

Reaching into his shorts pocket, removing his car keys, “Come on…” Morgan said. “...we can’t do it here.”

“Yeah…” slipping his feet into his sandals, and as his wife had never removed hers, taking Marsha by the hand Mitchell pulled her onto her feet.

He’d had Marijuana once before and was curious about how it would effect his wife.

“Where we going?”

“ To take a ‘hit’.” Morgan said.

“ ‘Take a hit’?”

“Marijuana!” Mitchell said.

“ ‘Marijuana’, Mitchell! I won’t smoke any marijuana!”

“Marsha…” taking her hand “...this is really good shit, and you won’t even know you’ve taken a hit.” Morgan said, placing his arm across her bare shoulders, steering her towards the dirt path entrance to the parking lot.

Walking behind. Though a bear of a man from the waist up, surprisingly— for a man his size, Morgan had a rather small, tight ass and on the thin side, muscular thighs and calves.

His wife… Marsha had a small, tight ass and, on the thin side, unmuscular thighs and calves.’

Unlocking the driver side door to an older, faded ‘fire-engine red’, four door ‘Cadillac’ with fabric bench seats…

Reaching inside Morgan popped the locks on the other three doors.

Waiting a moment for the pent up heat to dissipate.

“You…” gesturing for Marsha to take the center position on the front bench seat “...here, and you …” gesturing for me to take the outer position. “You three…” jerking his thumb towards the rear seat “...wherever.”

The four doors slamming shut, the windows never rolled down…

Opening the glove compartment, Morgan retrieved a small pouch and a pack of cigarette wrapping papers.

Deftly taking a measured pinch of marijuana and laying it into a partially folded cigarette paper, then expertly rolling it into a tightly packed thin cylinder, Morgan sealed it with his tongue.

Twisting both ends of the marijuana filled cylinder shut. Using a gold plated cigarette lighter, lightning it while drawing inward…

Holding the smoke for three seconds, exhaling, the sweet scent of burning marijuana infused with the car’s hot air.

“Here…” Holding it between the tip of his thumb and forefinger, handing it to Marsha “… It's not a cigarette, so don’t treat it like a cigarette. Just take a small, deep draw and hold it in for as long as you can.”

Doing as instructed… Marsha took a small but deep draw holding the smoke in for possibly two second ...Then coughing and gagging the smoke erupting from her mouth, “ ‘ear,” she handed the joint to me and I took a larger, deeper draw and handed it over the seat to Evie, who, doing the same gave it to Ken, who, doing the same, gave it to Sandy, who, doing the same then handed it over the seat back to Morgan.

If anyone were not smoking, by simply breathing the marijuana laced smoke in the pent up car they would now be sensing ‘a contact high’.

Feeling noting, yet… ‘Thinking’ she was feeling nothing yet, shaking her head negatively on the second round, I took it directly from Morgan’s fingers, drew and passed it backward… By the time it reached Sandy, having to hold the ‘roach’ between her fingernails, Sandy inhaled the last of the smoke.

Sitting a short while in the enclosed Cadillac breathing the marijuana infused air, looking to my right I did notice that there was not so much as the merest fraction of space between the naked outer thighs of my wife and Morgan, yet there was at least two inches of space between my thigh and Marsha’s. On purpose, I thought, or just the way they were sitting?

Opening my side door. “Hope we’ve lots of munchie stuff left!”

Taking Marsha’s arm, I genteelly nudged her off the seat and out the door’.

Fully feeling the effect of my two deep drags of Morgan’s joint — as I was sure all four of us were, my feet feeling on the numb side, thinking I was, as we all were, waddling across the field back to our blankets…

After all, one ‘tiny’ hit and not sure what she felt, if anything, other than a mild ‘contact high’.

“Marcie…” I asked “...you feeling anything?”

“No…” giggling, very loudly giggling “...ain’t feelin’ nothin’!”

Yeah! “Okay.” I said, putting my arm about her waist to help support her on our way back while, I was sure, everyone in the fields of Elysium was watching as we four waddled back to our blankets.

Evie to the right of Morgan– still seeing Marsha’s and Morgan’s outer thighs pressed closely together, I sat between him and my wife.

Our coffee cups once again filled with cheap white wind. Sitting in a close circle passing a couple bags of potato chips and something else… didn’t matter what as we all had a major case of ‘munchies’ and would eat just about anything.

Swallowing my mouthful of potato chips, “Evie…” I said “...your last name’s ‘Dorfmann’, right!”

Swallowing her mouthful of that other stuff. “Yeah. So what?”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“My husband’s been thinking!” Marsha said before breaking into laughter.

Ignoring her. “I used to know a girl by the name of Dorfmann.” Taking a gulp of wine. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to ‘Ina’?”

“Yeah!” putting some more of the stuff in her mouth. “Ina’s my cousin. Why?”

Oh, God! “You don’t want to know!”

Evie's eyes focusing… Somewhat focusing on me. “Mitchell? She said it was a really good looking guy named ‘Mitchell’!”

Looking away, I said nothing.

Laughing hysterically, wine splashing from her cup… “You’re the ‘pervert’!”

Remembering what my friend Norman had told me Ina had called me about two years after…

“Yeah…” I said, giggling “...I guess.”

Next PIT : The Fields #15: Ina