PIT #19: Flatulence
Points In Time
Topanga Canyon, California
Saturday, May 17, 1986
3:01 p.m.
Making no coy pretense! Seductive words first spoken by my wife after our terrible, months long breakup and sexually beautiful marital recovery way back in — I’ll ‘never’ forget the exact day. It was on the Fourth of July in nineteen-fifty eight when, for the first time, whispering in my ear Marsha asked…
“Mitchie, you want to eat my pussy?”
For the first time, whispering back, “Marcie, you want to suck my cock?”
“Yeah, I ‘do’…” nodding her head backwards, towards the Elysium Lodge where there are the three private rooms “...finish the fucking story already!”
8/18/50: Union Pier
“Wait, Mitchie.” Yanking the blouse over her head, reaching
behind her back, unclasping the three hooks Ina pulled her arms through the straps and, tossing the blouse and bra over her head, onto the back seat and turning towards Mitchell, Ina threw her shoulders back proudly jutting her 38C—now that she was sitting upright—more than just slightly sagging breasts forward.
Moonlight streaming through the Pontiac’s bug splattered windshield lightening the car’s interior…
Though Mitchell had seen and, Oh, yeah! appreciated Ina’s breasts at the Liebman cottage, her blouse and bra had not actually been off, but now they were and he plainly saw her totally exposed chest and, God, he thought, she’s got grrr-eat tits. But, of course, to Mitchell Lipensky, in this position, anyone’s tits would be ‘grrr-eat tits’ and hardly believing that he was ‘truly’ here, in ‘this’ place, with ‘this’ girl, in ‘this’ situation and for the moment he could only stare at…
In the defused moonlight Ina’s dark areolae appeared to be almost black in contrast to the stark white flesh of her breasts — made to appear even whiter against the darkly shadowed tan of her chest and…
Leaning forward, putting his forehead onto her chest, lifting and holding a breast in each hand, he enveloped his face within the soft, warm flesh.
Enjoying the sensation of his cool hands and warm breath, closing her eyes, Ina leaned against the car door.
With the so warm, so soft mounds of flesh pressed against either side of his face a memory resurrected, a memory he’d unknowingly played in his subconscious mind since he was seven years old…
Seventeen year old Lou Ann on the bed, her breasts splayed across her chest, her large, dark nipples—so like Ina’s—being palpitated between the fingers of Sal Diamond, just as he himself was now doing.
The prank Dominick Diamond had played on his newly married brother in 1941, using Mitchell to bait his brother did make a profound impression on the then-seven-year-old boy and throughout the years, been the catalyst for Mitchell Lipensky’s premature preoccupation with sex and now, at this moment, Mitchell’s mind transformed Ina to Lou Ann and himself to Sal Diamond and…
No! He’d fantasized doing this for too many years to be anyone but himself… And in just a minute he was going to do what he’d fantasized, and masturbated to since he was nine years old…
But no! Thinking, Fucking and seeing a cunt might not be all I want to do!
He was surprised when the rest of the mental picture from that afternoon in 1941 came to mind— the picture of Sal’s head between Lou Ann’s thighs.
Moving his face from between Ina’s breasts he held both forward, kissing one then the other with rapidly accelerating passion and drew one, then the other now-elongated nipple into his mouth and, holding the underside of a breast in one hand with the cone of hardened flesh between his suckling lips, his other hand dropped to Ina’s thighs.
In the unflattering light of day Ina Dorfman’s thighs were thick, dimpled and heavy. But in romantic moonlight — even in bug-splattered romantic moonlight, Ina Dorfman’s thighs were soft, smooth, inviting and ‘most’ importantly, available.
“Mitchie,” holding a restraining hand against his chest, “wait. I’ll help you.”
Ina Dorfman was normally — to say the least, of a lustful nature…
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:08 p.m.
Totally soused— Ken and Evie keeping a half-assed lookout for a field monitor who possibly ‘might’ think this group of middle aged men and women were becoming just a ‘mite’ too friendly and as all were ‘semi-privately’ either ‘diddling’ or being ‘diddled’ all were.
“My cousin Ina, ‘to say the least was of a lustful nature’?”
Slouching against Morgan, one hand ‘way’ up high on his thigh. Morgan’s big hand still hiding Evie’s small breast.
Wine sloshing from her coffee cup onto her stomach pooling into he bellybutton.
“ Shit…..” Evie proclaimed “...Ina’s of a lustful nature my ‘ass’!”
8/18/50: Union Pier
As for Ina Dorfman, the thought of actually being with Mitchell Lipensky, along with his contagious, accelerated passion carried Ina to an even higher degree of urgency than normal and, sitting up, lifting her lower body she popped the buttons and pushed her shorts, along with her panties, down her legs where they fell off, alongside the brake peddle.
Oh, God! She’s here! Mitchell thought. She’s here! Naked! A real, live naked girl is here and we’re going to fuck! ‘Really’ going to fuck!
This time was as if, and indeed a sexual fantasy had come to life from out his dreams and to be sure that this was not yet another fantasy—not that Mitchell Lipensky wouldn’t have done it if this were a fantasy—he brought his hand to the tri-section of Ina’s thighs and twined his fingers through the coarse hair there.
Sixteen months ago, when he and Gina had been naked together, he’d been in a drunken fog and when he tried to visualize what Gina had looked like nude—although, in the pitch-black room and later, in the dark hallway, he’d never really seen what she looked like nude—he could not remember. He could not even remember what she’d felt like, or, for that matter, what ‘it’ felt like when she did what she did to him with her mouth.
All Mitchell Lipensky clearly remembered about Gina Glambos was that she was ugly and skinny and had green teeth, and Mitchell had all but erased the experience from his mind and considered this, ‘now’, as the first time that he was with a girl ‘this’ way.
Mitchell looked at Ina through the light of the bug-splattered windshield: at her sloping, milk-white breasts; at the areolae of her large, dark nipples; at the, albeit fully shadowed, triangle of her pubic hair…
And in the excess of his passion thought Ina Dorfmann was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. And, in a way, being the only girl he had ever seen fully nude, she was so… “Ina...” he said hoarsely “...you are ‘so’ beautiful!”
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:12 p.m.
“ ‘Beautiful’! My cousin looks like a pig!”
“Evie…” speaking without any body movement because he ‘loved’ what his wife was doing below the towel on his lap “...you want me to tell you what happened with me and your cousin that night, stop butting in!”
“Yeah! Yeah! Go on.”
8/18/50: Union Pier
Ina Dorfman rarely, if ‘ever’ heard the words ‘you are ‘so’ beautiful’, but Mitchell had said them! Twice, in fact! Once in the Liebman cottage—actually, he was also about to tell her ‘she had beautiful tits’ when they’d
heard the slamming of a car door outside, and now here… And, sensing her vagina saturating, becoming even, if possible, wetter, and wondering if she was leaking onto the front seat of her father’s 1950 Pontiac, she squeezed her thighs together, as…
Seeing Ina naked, wanting to be naked with her, having an urge to feel as much of her naked body against his naked body as possible—within the confines of the front seat of a 1950 Pontiac—pulling his shirt off, he tossed it onto the clutch, unbuttoning his jeans, pushing his underpants off at the same time, he wiggled out of both.
In the semi-darkness watching him undress, “Mitchie...” taking hold of his stiffly-standing penis, in an excess of passion “...you’re beautiful, too.” Ina said. “All over!”
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:15p.m.
Giggling, leaning forward and brushing her breasts from side to side on the back of her husband’s head. “Yeah, I used to think so, too,”
“ ‘Used to think so’?” Reaching up, holding both of Marsha’s tits on either side of my head in the palms of my hands. “And I ain’t no-more?”
“Mitchie, baby; you were twenty-one the first time I saw you naked, and ‘yes’…” she lied “...I did think you were beautiful then.”
Actually she did not as in her mind Marsha had compared her love of Mitchell and Mitchell’s body to her love of and the heavily muscled body of Stan Jacobson, and there was ‘no’ comparison.
Her hand beneath the towel no longer in motion.
“ ‘Marcie, baby’…” thinking “...that was thirty-one years ago and, uh…” rubbing my no longer twenty-one year old getting pudgy stomach “...things change.”
Thinking it best not to make the comparison of the body of then nineteen year old Marsha Goldman Liprnsky to the fifty year old — having given birth to four children body of my now fifty year old wife.
Holding both breasts on either side of my head in the palms of my hands…“Well, baby…” I lied “...I think that you’re still absolutely beautiful.”
Her hand beneath the towel in slight motion again.
8/18/50: Union Pier
He saw a hand—not his hand—holding his penis. And the hand was cold and thinking, ‘Oh, God!’ Saying, “That feels so good!”
Sitting with her back angled against the driver-side door with her feet under the driver-side console, his penis still held within Ina’s cold hand, Mitchell angled his body toward hers.
Knowing from past experience that in this position— in times such as this most boys abandoned any thought of foreplay and fully expecting him to place himself into position for insertion and intercourse…
“Hold it a second…” turning to the right and straightening her back, giving herself enough room to lift her right leg and by stretching it to the side, Ina was able to position Mitchell between her thighs and in position to insert his penis into her, Oh, yeah! more than ready vagina.
But instead…
Not altogether ambivalent over the fact that Ina had just opened her thighs to his sight, two things had happened: First, a large cloud, the forerunner of a summer squall, had darkened the moon darkening the interior of the car and secondly; intently watching the jiggling of Ina’s breasts rather than the opening and stretching of her thighs— feeling he’d, at least temporarily, lost the opportunity, Ina’s crotch was now flush against his hip and he couldn’t see ‘it’ so instead, putting his arms around her waist, pulling their bare chests together, feeling the warm push of her breasts, “Oh, God!” he said aloud as the pliable flesh bore through the layers of Mitchell’s sexually starved psyche. “Oh, my God!”
Wanting foreplay rather than just a quickie, as most guys do, further impressed Ina and she began to manipulate the sheath of skin that covers the hard core…
As he, in turn, rubbing the palm of his hand over the coarse, damp hair at the ‘V’ of her crotch, Mitchell searched for a moment or two until— even in this awkward position, finding the orifice his finger slid between Ina’s thick lips into her ultra-slick wetness and…
Feeling his hand ‘there’ and his finger ‘there’. Widening her thighs even further. Her encircling hand moving up and moving down, squeezing and loosening, expecting it. Looking for it, Ina’s thumb played over the tip of Mitchell’s penis till soon she felt the droplet of semen that, with her help, had worked its way up and through his urethra— and the feel of the slippery semen that then covered his glans made Ina Dorfman even hotter and…
“Oh-my-God, Ina!”
Looking as Mitchell looked, Ina would have taken bets that he’d have had plenty of experience with girls and she had been surprised early in the evening when she’d learned of his complete inexperience.
Ina well knew what was about to happen, but thought, If he comes now it’ll be a snap to get it up again… Especially knowing what she planned on doing because she especially ‘loved’ the feeling of a limp penis growing less limp within her mouth… an’ then, maybe. Not that the feeling a limp penis becoming less limp within her mouth didn’t always cause her to orgasm, too—he’ll last long enough for me to come, too—Again! So…
“Oh-my-God, Ina!”
He wanted to savor this long-awaited, long-desired experience for as long as possible and as much as, Oh, yeah! He sure did love the feeling of her fondling, he knew that if she didn’t stop ‘now’, right ‘now’, he would climax. So somehow finding some hidden source of self control...
“Please, Ina, ‘stop’!”
Taking hold of her hand he shoved it, along with his near unbending penis, between his thighs and clamped both in an unmovable grip as screwing his eyes shut, thinking for the second time on this night: Don’t come! Don’t come! Do not come!
And only when the all-but-uncontrollable urge passed, did he open his eyes.
“Almost came, huh?”
Breathing heavily, “Yeah...” he admitted “...almost.”
The scene of Sal Diamond’s head between Lou Ann’s thighs still pictured within his mind. Knowing there was something else he wanted to do. Feeling he then had his ejaculatory problem under control — at least temporarily. Loosening his thighs he freed Ina’s hand, along with his penis.
“Lay back some, can you?” Kissing her mouth. “I want to kiss you...” his lips grazing her neck “...here...” lowering his head, lingering, kissing, a number of times first one, then the other breast “...and here...” stretching his finger even deeper into Ina’s vaginal canal, speaking hoarsely, passionately “…and here.”
Thinking she knew what he meant. He’s gonna eat me! “Yeah, Mitchie...” her voice no less passionate “ ...do it!”
The night was suddenly splintered by a ragged bolt of lightening and seconds later the sky opened.
Feeling rain on her head and face and he on his back, relinquishing their positions as slightly as possible, trying to move no more than the needed hand, each rolled a window closed.
Bringing his attention—and hand—back to where they had been seconds ago. Willing to do it again. Hell, finding the kissing of Ina’s breasts to be about as enjoyable a task as he’d ever preformed.
Returning to her breasts. Once again kissing each a number of times, his lips trailed past her chest, onto her soft, actually rather mushy stomach, over her navel and onto the outer fringe of hair…
Where his lips hesitated because—being very cognizant of odors —because of a, albeit, not a thoroughly unpleasant odor but a strong odor nonetheless, he halted Also, because being this close to it, the movement of his finger within Ina’s vagina caused a ‘squishing’ sound that he could actually hear and also, in this position his neck was beginning to hurt, but what stopped him, what stopped him cold was that suddenly…
Because the orifice of Ina’s vagina was stretched in preparation for intercourse and flooded with readying fluid, in order to feel the pressure of his finger, Ina had kept her thighs and vaginal muscle constricted and expecting, ‘anticipating’ his tongue, waiting for the sweet sensation that she so wanted, that she had never experienced because no guy had ever done it to her, for her, Ina loosened her thighs and vaginal muscle… and due to the excessive fluid within her vagina, the sudden release of internal pressure caused…
A loud, fart-like sound emitted from Ina’s vagina that she might not have heard, but being as close as he was, Mitchell sure heard, and…
Next PIT #20; Flashlight
