Woodstock Five (Lust)

Notation: 35,000 people were expected. Instead, approximately 450,000 people attended the...

 Woodstock Music Festival of ‘Music and Love’

Bethel, New York

August 11, 1969

5:53 PM PM

“Here, baby!” Holding the remainder between the tips of thumb and forefinger, offering it to Sharon.

Afraid of offending the black guy standing hip to hip alongside. Taking it, holding the roach between fingernail tips, sucking the last of the smoke into her lungs — the additional THC hitting her instantly, Sharon dropped the smouldering bit of paper to the ground as, startling her…

Arms about her waist — hands beneath Sharon’s blouse foundling her bare breasts.

Unable to turn her body within this tightly held crowd. Assuming her husband had found her and the hands fondling her tits were Clyde’s, however able to turn her head enough to see…

Sharon’s eyes focusing enough to note the blond stubble on the chin of — so he had told her, twenty year old ‘Morning Lust’.

Westlake Lake

March 19, 2011

Sharon and Marsha secured to one of Landings finger docks.
3:50 PM

“He grabbed your tits…” Marsha asked “...just like that?”

“Yeah…” into her sixth glass of wine “...just like that.” Sharon answered dreamily.

Into her sixth glass of wine also. “Had to scare the shit out of you! Where the hell was Clyde?”

“Marcie…” taking her hand “...what I’m going to tell you— is still ‘strictly’ between you and me? Right!”

Knowing whatever Sharon told her, in Marsha’s past life she’d more than likely done worse.

“I told you before…” answered belligerently “...of course it’s between you and me!”

Woodstock Music Festival of ‘Music and Love’

Bethel, New York

August 11, 1969

5:56 PM

Sharon’s eyes focusing enough to note the blond stubble on the chin of ‘Morning Lust’.

The side of his cheek moistly against the side of her cheek. The outer edge of his lips touching the outer of her lips. His tongue touching, her tongue meeting. His hands opening and gently closing about Sharon’s thirty-five year old freely hanging breasts.

Lust’s voice as puffs of warm air onto her ear.

“I saw what you looked like when you and your husband changed into shorts. And, I want to telly you, Marcie…” actually meaning it “... from what I’ve seen so far, there’s no one here is as beautiful as you.”

Completely wasted, thinking, You too. Her hand upon the side of his face, tightening the touch of his cheek upon hers. “How’d you find me in all this?”

His tongue probing the edge of her lips. “Stayed right behind when you and Clyde left. And by the way he’d been eyeing Dawn, had the feeling he’d find a way to ditch you and find some women to feel up in this crowd…”

Rather thinking that the reason Clyde had lost her so soon after pressing through the crowd.

Throughout the field many men had removed their shirts, and some women too.

The words… “ ‘I want to fuck you, Sharon’!” … not spoken as puffs of warm air within her ear, but more so as an explanation. “You want to fuck me, don’t you!” Also spoken as an explanation.

The heat. The humidity. The scents of mildew, sweat and the prevailing, drugging scent of maharajah.

The crush of humanity. Arms in the air waving madly. Upper bodies gyrating as rocking and rolling along with the pounding of bongos, drums and the near naked — with the sixties ‘peace’ emblem painted onto her nude belly — lady on the stage screaming the words of whatever she was singing to be heard above the din of the, by now, possibly hundred thousand people.

“Yeah, baby, I do…” Sharon said from the side of her mouth “...but…”

Oh, ‘yes’! she wanted to! Knowing she ‘was’ going to fuck this… boy?

Knowing she would have to live with the remembrance, and guilt of possibly fucking an under age juvenile.

“Yeah, baby…” Sharon said from the side of her mouth “...but please!” Knowing he could lie, and how would she ever know? But then at least she would know she had tried. “Please! ‘Truthfully’! How old are you?”

Without hesitation, provocatively tightening his body even tighter than it already was, as minutely moving his crotch in an erotic forward and back motion. “Twenty…” Lust lied “...I’m twenty.”

True or false? As though the word ‘twenty’ was the key to unlocking the vault to all of Sharon Murphy’s long held inhibitions… To say nothing of the maharajah she had drawn into her lungs, that even now swirled above her head.

Looking about. Everyone: men and women were standing tightly belly to ass. All rocking along wit the sounds of the unknown band… So the flashing lights above the stage said, ‘Bootee and the Blowfish’.

The vault to Sharon Murphy’s long held inhibitions wide open…

Remembering Sharon is five foot, five and Lust six-one.

5:59 PM

All inhibition gone, she’d seen his exposed penis twice since meeting earlier this day, since her husband had made the deal of bologna for weed and each time Sharon’s eyes would — attempting not to be conspicuous, Sharon’s eyes would momentarily linger on Lust’s long, noticeably uncircumcised penis.

Attempting not to appear conspicuous. However in this crowd it was impossible to do anything that would be noticed as conspicuous, Sharon’s right had still stroking his cheek, her left arm squeezed between her and the black guy’s closely held hips. Although able to flex her wrist and manipulate her fingers, Sharon’s hand, flat upon Lust’s hard stomach, ineffectually searched for the upper band of the shorts he wore.

Sharon at five-five and Lust six-one, his waist six inches above Sharon’s waist making impossible for her to...

“You want my cock…” spoken directly into her ear, barely loud enough to be heard above the noise of music and people “... don’t you, Sherrie?”

“Yeah, I do…” amazed at her brashness “...in a few places.” Sharon replied, as the blare of music stopped as a new group — ‘Barnys Beasts’, the lights above the stage read, —set up on the stage.

The only one! Other than her husband’s…

6:03 PM

‘Barnnys Beasts’ in place. Raw, hard ‘rock’ blaring from the sixteen scattered lampposts.

Her left arm still held captive, giving up on the upper approach, angling her wrist downward, Sharon’s fingers searching for the thigh opening below his shorts… And not having to search very long, hard or far as Lust’s…

Making up for breadth… Whenever in public, having the social need to wear a jock strap or Jockey shorts while wearing street shorts, — as without either, at least one inch of Lust’s long, dangling penis could, and has been seen.

Or, as now, if excited.

Sharon’s fingers searching his bare outer thigh to below his shorts, first closing about — taking a second to realise she held the soft, pliable flesh of foreskin between her thumb and forefinger then realising, her fingers closing about…

The only one! Other than her husband’s…

Catching her breath… Feeling Lust’s warm hard — the only other cock thirty-five year old Sharon Murphy had ever held within her hand.

His heart pounding. “Feels good, huh?”

“Yeah, baby…” gasping “...real good!”

The pounding of music. The scent of sweat, re-dried clothing and overwhelming mind bending maharajah.

Front and back. From side to side, packed closely within those standing and dancing in place.

Lust moving his pelvis that was little more than a twitch.

“Want to make me cone?”

Dancing. Unaware she was dancing in place — which was little more than a twitch also.

Sharon’s hand moving along within the rapture of loud ‘rock’ and weed.

Sharon’s body swaying… more like twitching along with the erotically felt unfamiliar cock held between her open hand and — as close as she could possibly bring it to the outer seam of her shorts and inner thigh..

As unknowingly rubbing the blood swelled glans that had fully come out of hiding from within Lust’s thick foreskin…

That, held beneath her palm was rubbing the rear of Sharon’s smooth back thigh.

His breath hot against her ear.

The soft hanging weight of both breasts within his hands, fingers circling hardening nipples. Though the movement of his cock against Sharon’s hand and smooth thigh little more than a hard twitch…

Then another twitch and another and another...

His hot breath against Sharon’s ear becoming a series of soft moans as she feels squirts of warm semen against and dribbling along her bare thigh.

Sharon’s senses returning — Somewhat returning as she realises what she had, so easily, brought about, thinking, Sometimes Clyde doesn’t come at all anymore, no matter what I do.

‘Shit’!

Morning Lust, AKA, ‘Franklin Binkowski’ thought ‘Shit’!

The blood flow from within his penis flowing outward with each burst of semen causing it to slip from beneath Sharon’s hand.

Premature ejaculation an ongoing problem with this seventeen year old boy.

Authors Notation: Caution.

Going into the story of ‘Morning Lust’, AKA, Franklin Binkowski, and his mother, ‘Autumn Dawn’, AKA Margery Binkowski is extremely ‘R’ … Actually ‘X’ rated. So proceed at your own risk.

Notation: We will be returning to Woodstock and the three day Musical festival of Love and Peace after the development of these unsavoury new characters…

That will exist within…

Woodstock 6: Innocence