Next PIT #20: Flashlight
Points In Time
Topanga Canyon, California
Saturday, May 17, 1986
3:25 p.m.
8/18/50: Union Pier
Though 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…
Changing his mind about doing the ‘Sal Diamond and Lou Ann thing’, straightening his back, Mitchell sat up.
Feeling the shift in his body, Ina opened her eyes as…
Damn-it! Slightly angry with him because, Shit! How come guys don’t wanna eat me like I wanna eat them? Ina thought, Screw ‘m! Let him do the work for a change!
Reclining on her elbows, shifting, lifting her body she laid her buttocks across his lap and bending her right leg, putting her right foot at an angle on the seat between his right hip and the car door, by stretching her left leg onto the passenger-side floor, Ina was able to lay back with her head lying on the seat, beneath the steering wheel.
The rain outside in combination with the heavy breathing inside had caused a heavy cast of fog to cover the windows and in the obliterated moonlight, what lay flat on the seat and across his lap lay wholly in a dark shadow. And though he could not see all that he wanted to see, the fact that a girl’s completely naked body was completely open to his hands and mouth—not making him ‘too’ unhappy with this position.
“Ina, lift up a second, can you?” Reaching beneath her buttocks, Mitchell pulled his cramped penis out from under and placed it, standing straight up, pressed between her right hip and his stomach.
Mitchell Lipensky looked at Ina Dorfmann and still, in whatever light there was, was able to see her darkly accentuated aureole against the stark white of her breasts, and the black shadow of her crotch in contrast to the flesh of her stomach and thighs.
Concentrating on Ina’s crotch, spreading her labia with his left hand, turning his right hand upward, feeling a heightening thrill he inserted his index finger.
In Ina’s mind, and most ‘always’ so, she was the one doing all the work with the guy doing all the enjoying— not, mind you, that she did not enjoy the results of her labor. But this time, now, lying on her back, closing her eyes, she’s doing all the enjoying and the guy’s doing all the work.
Work? Ah, yes! It’s a tough job but someone’s got to do it.
Shifting slightly, Ina’s left breast rolled off her chest and hung, looking downward at the clutch, brake and accelerator. Her right breast, propped by the fabric-covered seat, standing somewhat upward, appeared to be gazing at Mitchell.
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:31 p.m.
In their euphoric bubble, the group of five listened intently as Mitchell— in his own marijuana and moonshine induced bubble spoke on as though possibly re-living the time and place as…
8/18/50: Union Pier
Completely impassioned once again—not, mind you, that a little thing like a ‘cunt-fart’ would ever dissinpassion him.
Leaning forward, he drew the gazing nipple into his mouth…
But after a few seconds the awkward position causing a ‘crick’ in his neck he sat up, and because his index finger felt lost—and indeed it was—within the depth and breadth of Ina’s extended sexually prepared vagina…
Hummm? Thinking, Wonder if I can get another one in?
All of his knuckles and most of his hand wet from the abundant secretion, on the next outward trip Mitchell was easily able to insert his number one finger. Having two fingers in Ina’s vagina aroused him even further, only now it had become more than ‘just’ sexual, it had become ‘experimental’.
A learning experience, if you will, so… Plenty of room in there, he thought, maybe one more. And slid his number three finger in.
“Mmmm!” Clenching her teeth, Ina began to squirm.
Having no way of knowing ‘what’, ‘where’ or ‘why,’ but with his small finger bent back and his middle three fingers inserted upside down, filling Ina’s vagina, touching and caressing everything ‘sexually’ that there was to touch and caress—including, in this position, the highly erogenous zone on the roof of her vagina, that on Ina Dorfman was located midway between her clitoris and urethral opening, that in the past only she had paid attention to—a whole lot of attention—Mitchell had no place to put his thumb, so it accidentally fondled the little protruding button of highly sensory flesh at the top cleft of her vagina that…
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:35 p.m.
Laughing a thoroughly besotted laugh. “I hadd’a show him
where ‘it’ was.”
Coming out of my foggy bubble… ‘Somewhat’ coming out of his foggy bubble. “Yeah…” I said “...didn’t know what it was and didn’t know where to find it.”
“Sounding no less besotted than Marsha. “Didn't know what ‘what’ was an’ didn’t know where to find ‘what’?” Sandy asked; “What’s ‘what’?”
“My ‘clit’…” Marsha giggler “...he..” jabbing Mitchell in the chest with her thumb “...didn’t know where my ‘clitoris’ was.”
Barely able to get the words out… holding back laughter. “ ‘Didn't know where it was’?” I repeated attempting to keep from chocking. “Didn't even know ‘what’ it was...Besides, my compass was busted.”
“ ‘Compass’…” Marsha blurted “...what’s a compass got to do with where my ‘clit’ was?”
“Guess I…” giggling “... kept goin’ south when I should’a been goin’ north.”
8/18/50: Union Pier
Due to the position of his hand, the pumping motion of his three fingers and the dandling touch on her hypertrophied clitoris, along with the scientifically, still-unknown ‘G spot’, caused a sensation that Ina had never before felt and she began to rotate her hips, putting syncopated, rolling pressure against the erotically satisfying movement of Mitchell’s fingers, and the ‘more’ than satisfying caress of his thumb.
Forgetting that just a few minutes earlier she’d thought him wholly inexperienced. “Mitchie...” she said, breathing the words rather than saying the words “...emmm, where’d you, ahhh, learn to do this?”
At that moment, not actually cognizant of the thought, Mitchell realized that in sex, for him, it was just as important to give as to receive and was ecstatic in the knowledge that he was doing something to Ina that she, too, was enjoying, and—though he had no way of knowing just how much she was enjoying what he was, albeit, unknowingly, doing—having no idea what it was he was doing, he said nothing.
“Oh, God, that feels so nice!” Constricting and relaxing her thighs and vaginal muscle while gyrating her pelvis in harmonized movement with the pressure of his fingers, and the touch of his thumb. “Mmmm!” rolling her head from side to side… Taking hold of his hand, moving his hand — along with fingers at her desired speed, her breathing coming harder… faster, now oscillating her buttocks and hips, now…
Also rubbing against, and putting a silken, oh, so sweet pressure against her hip and his upstanding stomach entrapped penis…
So absorbed in Ina’s passion that he did not realize that now he too was pumping his pelvis and, of course, did not know of nor take notice of the spasmodic tightening and loosening within her vagina as Ina’s intensely strong orgasm began. But suddenly did realize that it was not only her raspy breathing he heard but his also and even beneath the weight of her buttocks, Mitchell arched his pelvis upward and this time unwilling, ‘unable’ to stop himself— laying his head back on the seat he closed his eyes as “Mmmm!” his…
More often than not, due to her date’s lack of staying power, consideration or most likely a combination of both, Ina’s sexual dalliances were consummated by her own hand in the privacy of her bedroom and now, completely satiated, relaxing, Ina loosened her thighs and if she ‘did’ realize, made no comment as…
Mitchell’s voluminous ejaculations arched upward then dropped splattering on her thighs, stomach and, looking much like melted droplets of vanilla ice cream, onto the dark-blue metal dashboard of Mister Dorfman’s 1950 Pontiac.
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:42 p.m.
“Hey…” straightening her body, Evie’s hand moving from Morgan’s thigh “...I remember something else Ina told me and …” laughing “...now it kinda makes sense.”
“Yeah…” somewhat returning from mu euphoric state “...what ‘kinda’ makes sense?”
“She said… Besides whatever the hell it was that you did to her, Ina told me that the next day her father was ‘screaming’ at her wanting to know who was the ‘God-damned’ pig that dripped ice cream all over his dashboard. And besides having ‘no’ idea what you did to her, she could ‘never’ figure out how the hell you..” pointing at me “...did it.”
“Never thought about it…” shrugging my shoulders “... but I’d guess I ‘came’.”
“Yeah, I’ll say ‘you came’..” resettling herself between Morgan’s thighs “...all over the place.”
For some reason feeling pride at being able ‘to come all over
the place’, slipping back into a monotone...
8/18/50: Union Pier
As his breathing, pulse rate and stiffly up-pointed toes returned to normal, the realization of what had happened hit him and angry at himself for ‘coming’ that way and not even getting to see ‘it’, Mitchell looked at Ina and, even in the dull moonlight, her face did not look nearly as appealing as it had a few seconds ago.
As often occurs to the male of the species immediately after that ‘climatic’ moment…
As a matter of fact, he thought, she looks really shitty!
Also, suddenly his wrist hurt terribly, so pulling his hand free with a wet, suction sound; opening and closing his fist a number of times to get the circulation flowing, Mitchell wiped both sides of his hand on the fabric seat of Mister Dorfman's nineteen-fifty Pontiac.
Still lying across his lap with her eyes closed and her thighs spread, Ina looked ‘almost’ as though she were asleep.
Tilting his head downward, he tried to see between her thighs, but it was much too dark there.
Looking up, he noticed the flashlight on the cluttered, now semen-splattered dashboard… and the hint of an idea came to mind.
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:47 p.m.
“Uh-Oh...” Her legs no longer spread, but crossed as she sat up leaning forward listening to me “...you ‘didn’t’”
“I told you all…” my eyes leaving Sandy as I glanced from her to Ken, to Evie, to Morgan and, tilting my head upward, to my wife “...that this was ‘really’ stupid.”
“ ‘Really’?” Marsha questioned. “You looked at Ina’s pussy with a ‘flashlight’?”
8/18/50: Union Pier
Mitchell looked at Ina’s face again. Her eyes were still closed and, Hmmm, she sleeping? Yeah, maybe! It sure looks like she’s sleeping.
He looked at the flashlight.
Nah! His eyes flicked back to Ina, and back at the flashlight.
Shaking his head negatively, Nah! But… But if she is asleep, maybe I can still get to see ‘it’.
Making the decision…
Slowly…
Moving slowly. Moving only his arm because he did not want to wake her— and turning the car’s dome light on certainly would wake her, so…
Reaching to the flashlight, he grasped and pulled...
Holding a moment, the strong magnet releasing with a slight jerk, he looked at her face once again and, her eyes still closed, Ina hadn’t moved.
Holding the flashlight, he waited…
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:50 p.m.
“And she ‘didn’t’ wake up!”
“No. Not yet.”
“My cousin was always a sound sleeper.”
“ ‘Not yet’, you said?” Morgan asked.
“This whole thing’s about to become even stupider...”
8/18/50: Union Pier
Tilting his head to the right. Looking down. Slowly, carefully. Being sure no to touch her. Positioning the flashlight between Ina’s thighs and taking a deep breath… he pushed the button and…
Light seemingly filling the car, several things simultaneously happened:
Thinking a cop was shining his flashlight through the window—as had happened oh, ‘so ‘ many times in the past, Ina’s instantaneous reaction was to open her eyes and bring her head up, and…
Ina’s reaction to the light drawing his immediate attention, releasing the button, the light went off as…
Bonk!
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:53 p.m.
“Oh, my ‘God’! ‘That’s what happened!”
“Yeah! I didn’t do nothin’ to your cousin!”
8/18/50: Union Pier
Ina’s forehead smashed into the hard plastic steering wheel, bounced off and fell back onto the seat.
“Ina?” said softly.
No answer.
“Ina,” said a bit louder. “Ina?”
Still, no response…
Waiting another moment, pushing the button shining the light onto her face. “Oh, my God!” Swallowing, he blinked his eyes rapidly, for…
Her tongue lolling from the corner of her drooling mouth, Ina Dorfman’s head lay flat on the seat staring upward, blankly, her eyes open, and crossed.
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:56 p.m.
“She ‘s unconscious…” Morgan said “...she’d knocked herself out!”
“And scared the shit out of me!”
8/18/50: Union Pier
“Ina?” Thinking she’s dead. “Ina!” And not only dead...“Ina, I’m sorry!” ...but that he was responsible. That he’d killed her! “Ina...” shaking her shoulder “...I’m sorry!” Apologizing for killing her, he shook her shoulder even harder… and watched as her jiggling breasts flopped back and forth with the motion. “I’m sorry!”
“Ummm.” She moaned.
She’s not dead! Relieved that she wasn’t dead…
“Ina, I’m sorry!”
She moved her head.
I didn’t kill her! Relieved that he hadn’t killed her…
“I’m sorry!”
She blinked her eyes.
Looking skyward, thinking, Oh, God, thank you, God!Overjoyed because Ina ‘was’ alive and that he had ‘not’ killed her…
“I’m sorry!”
Turning the flashlight off, he put it back on the dashboard.
“Oh, God...” holding her head in her hands “...I’ve such a headache!”
Turning. Moving off Mitchell, sitting up, Ina faced forward.
Relieved to see her sit up and move her by-then unbearably hot and heavy buttocks off his lap.
Thinking he was thinking ‘I’m sorry’, but actually “I’m sorry,” he muttered aloud one last time as, reaching to the floorboard, hastily slipping his feet through his Jockey shorts and jeans, he pulled both up to his waist, then, grabbing his shirt off the driver-side floorboard, Mitchell pulled it over his head, as…
Attempting to figure out, What happened? “What happened?” Ina asked.
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 3:59 p.m.
“Ah-Ha…” Evie drunkenly giggled “...so ‘that’s ‘ what happened!” Laughing so hard she’s barely able to get the words out. “ ‘ That’s’ what’s been driving my cousin nuts all these years.”
“Yeah. An’ she’s been tellin’ everyone all these years that ‘I’m’ some kind of a pervert…” falling onto my side laughing “... an’ she did it all by herself!”
“Well…” my wife said “...shoving a flashlight up a girl’s ‘box’ to see what it looks like ain’t ‘exactly’ normal.”
“An’ I didn’t…” sitting up, pretending anger “… ‘exactly’ shove it up her box’!”
8/18/50: Union Pier
Buttoning his fly, cinching his belt, he didn’t answer.
Ina knew she was naked and that he’d been naked, and sensed the rapidly evaporating moisture within her vagina and on her crotch and the familiar stretched feeling within her vagina and in her still-muddled mind thought, He screwed me. Which in itself would not have bothered her except, Why, all of a sudden do I have a headache? And, Why in the hell does he keep apologizing? And also, “Mitchie...” she asked, feeling her forehead “...how’d I get this goose-egg?”
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 4:02 p.m.
Suppressing laughter. “What the fuck could you possibly tell her?”
“I hadn’t the slightest idea, Ken.”
“Certainly not the ‘flashlight up her ‘box’ thing…” Sandy said “...she’d think you were a moron.
“Better to think I’m a pervert?”
8/18/50: Union Pier
Thinking, The flashlight was a really stupid thing to do! Trying to think, What should I tell her? Trying to think of a ‘somewhat’ plausible answer… She don’t remember the flashlight.
Stretching over the seat. Reaching to the back, reclaiming her bra and blouse, Ina slipped her arms through the straps, adjusted her breasts into the cups and fastened the hooks.
Looking at him, “So...” she asked suspiciously, accusingly “...how’d I get this bump on my head?”
“Uh, I don’t know...” he said, looking away “...guess you, uh...” telling the truth “...kind’a bumped it.”
Bending forward, reaching for her shorts and panties. “Ouch!” Grazing her forehead on the steering wheel. Slipping both onto her feet and arching her body upward, Ina pulled both over her hips.
“I ‘bumped my head’? How, Mitchie? On ‘what’?”
Thinking a moment. Maybe I ought’a just tell the truth. And figuring the truth… Some of it at least, might be the way to go. “On the steering wheel.”
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 4:05 p.m.
“What else could I have told her?”
“Don’t know, Mitch…” Evie said “...but obviously she didn’t believe you.”
“ ‘Obviously’.”
8/18/50: Union Pier
As though this were the only logical answer, which in fact it
was, Ina simply said, “ ‘Oh’.” Except, she thought, he just saw me bump my head on the steering wheel and what the fuck does he keep apologizing for?
And Ina Dorfmann, the girl that would screw just about anyone, thought Mitchell Lipensky did…? She didn’t know what. But did think that this boy—this boy that she felt something akin to love for an hour ago did ‘something’ to her.
Fresh air replacing fetid air, Ina rolled her window open, turned the key in the ignition starting the motor and turned the defroster on.
While waiting for a hole of clear glass to appear. “You know, Mitch...” she said, looking across the seat “...I’ve never been out with a guy like you before.”
Catching the inflection in her voice. Not knowing if this was meant as a compliment—which it most certainly was ‘not’ and not knowing how to respond in either case, he said nothing.
“Yeah, Mitch,” Ina said as, wincing, she touched the bump on her forehead. “You know I’ve gone out with lots’a guys, an’ lots of ’em have done… well, you know, ‘it’ to me. But, Mitch, you’re the only one that’s ever apologized.”
Putting her father’s 1950 Pontiac into reverse, then forward, Ina Dorfmann drove off the dirt road of the view site onto the ‘Old Highway.’
3/7/86: Topanga Canyon; 4:15 p.m.
“Ina told me the next day that she checked the flashlight ‘cause having the ‘goose-egg’ she had, it had to be dented…”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No, it was not!”
“So then began the ‘Mitchell Lipensky ‘pervert’ legend’.”
“Yeah.” Evie said.
Squirming into her shorts. “Think it’s time to head home.” Sipping her bathing suit top over her head and shoulders and settling her breasts within the cups.
“Marcie, hold on a second.” Searching her puree, coming up with a small pad and a pencil and writing. “My phone number if you want to get together again.”
“Thanks, Evie. I’m pretty sure we will.”
“Nice meeting you...” shaking Morgan’s hand, looking at Ken and Sandy “...hope to see you again.”
Receiving a half wave from Ken and an emphatic nod from Sandy.
Next PIT#21: Lewd Suggestion
