Finally, when Greg had poured all his semen into my mouth, I pulled away and fell back to the floor. Lois gazed at Greg's hard cock for a moment and then wrapped her hand around it, fascinated by its size. It began to grow smaller, and while she still held it tightly a drop of cum appeared on the tip. Greg lifted his head and looked at her.
"Go ahead, lick it off. It's not going to bite," he said gently, lifting his hips in the air.
Lois stammered a bit, and then quickly licked the white drop from the end of his penis. She smiled and looked as if she had just won the Irish Sweepstakes.
And now their turn had come. They fucked. In the regular position. Which was as boring as could be, but at least there were signs of humor. Lois was forever kicking her feet when Denny would slide it hard into her. She giggled and purred and made all kinds of theatrical sounds. Finally she grasped the banana in her hand and smashed it against Denny's back.
"Oh, honey, honey!" she called, mashing the banana all over his naked shoulders.
I looked at Greg. We were still amazed at what seemed like nonsense to us, but it obviously turned them on.
Denny lifted high and then slammed into her and we knew he was coming. At the same moment Lois let out another cry, "OH… on… VINCENT LOPEZ!"
Guacamole? Vincent Lopez? She had to be nuts. We left almost immediately after they had finished. As we stepped into the hall we felt as if we had been let out of a cage of some sort.
"Who the hell is Vincent Lopez?" I asked, turning the key in our door. We were both amused.
"Hell if I know. Probably her father. God, I'm glad we got out of there. Next thing she would have probably smeared grape jam all over her boobs and had us lick it off while she would scream crazy names."
I opened the door of the apartment. "Guacamole. Jesus, what a night. Aren't they too much?"
Greg flopped on the couch as I closed and locked the door. "Did you catch him rubbing my ass?" he asked.
"Sure did," I replied, sitting next to him.
"Strange couple." Greg put his arm around me and held me close to him. "I love you," he said.
"And I love you. Let's go to bed."
And we did.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Summer vacation came and we talked about getting married. We had been living together for months now and we felt it was time to make it legal. I knew Mother and Dad would be pleased to hear that, even though they loved Greg and accepted the fact that we were living together out of wedlock. Billy was very happy for us. We planned to be married just before the beginning of the school term, in August, back in Two Forks.
But before that we decided to take a vacation to California, a place we had never been. California, land of eternal sunshine and orange juice, twenty-four-hour supermarkets, weirdos and radicals and freaks and overnight religions and beautiful people. We wanted to experience as much of it as we could. We planned to stay almost four weeks.
It is hard to look back on that time with any objectivity, for I seem to remember only the bad. There were good things, it's true, but they had nothing to do with my sexual life and that is what I'm supposed to concern myself with here. Just for the record, however, I fell in love with Los Angeles on sight and loved the city, the people, the way of life. I knew I would live there someday, and now I do – I live in Hollywood.
What happened to my sexual life at that time? It died. Overnight. Greg and I had been having a wonderful sexual relationship up until the day we arrived in Los Angeles. We would have oral sex many times a day, often sharing each other with other couples – we stayed away from the Banana Buster and her husband, however – and there seemed to be no problems regarding sex in either of our minds.
But once we hit the West Coast Greg seemed to grow nervous and distant. I thought he wasn't feeling well, or perhaps something was bothering him about our marriage plans. But he wouldn't talk about it. The second night we were there, after he had spent the day being very sullen and moody, he went for a walk on Santa Monica Pier – we were staying in a big motel just off the beach in Santa Monica – and didn't return till hours later. He didn't say a word, just stripped and got into bed with me. I felt him shaking, and I tried to put my arms around him, sensing he needed comfort. But he pulled away and asked me not to touch him. I fell asleep listening to him sort of crying softly on the other side of the bed.
We had always been honest with each other – except for my past experiences with Billy, and the horrible things I did when Greg and I were having such a terrible time communicating. Actually they weren't so horrible at all, but after Greg and I got together I looked back on them with revulsion. Now it seemed we couldn't be honest. He wouldn't say a thing. I had been so happy. I knew we both had been so happy. What had happened? What had I done?
I wrote Billy and told him every thing – how Greg had been acting and his new treatment of me. I asked his advice – he knew Greg as well as I did – and told him what I truthfully thought was happening. I told him Greg seemed to be tired of me. He was spending more time away from me than with me, and he was beginning to come back to the motel late at night or not at all. We had been there only ten days and I felt lonely, afraid to make a move for fear it would be something that would make Greg disapproving. I was confused.
Billy called me a few days later. His call came at a bad time – or perhaps it was the right time. Greg had just screamed at me that I was spying on him when happened to walk by the phone booth in the lobby and found him talking to someone. We went back to the room and he told me the marriage was off and it was all my fault. He said he knew that I didn't trust him and he wasn't going to have a wife who spied on him and followed his every move.
I had never done any such thing. I respected his privacy and I loved him and the least thing I thought about was the fact that he might have something to hide. I had felt we had been honest with each other, but then I wasn't so sure. Thank God for Billy. He left on the next available flight.
I must have sounded pretty broken up on the phone, because when I met him at the airport he was surprised to see that I was standing up and coherent.
"Are you okay?" he said, holding me in his arms.
"Yes, yes. Oh, I'm so glad you're here. I was afraid you'd tell me to go back to Albuquerque or something."
"Hey, come on, let's get out of here and make you my happy little sister again."
He was beautiful. He always knew what to say at the right times and he gave me all the strength in the world. We walked to the baggage claim area, picked up his suitcases, and drove my rented car to Santa Monica. All the way there on the freeway, we didn't say a word to each other. We just relaxed and let our strong feelings for each other talk.
I spent about two hours telling Billy every detail of what had happened since we had arrived in California. I got very emotional, but he understood how upset and totally mixed up I was at the time, and he promised to have a talk with Greg that evening.
Greg called the room shortly before dinner. I didn't know where he had been – he told me a few days before that he had met some old college buddies from Milwaukee and was going to spend some time with them – and I asked if he was coming back to eat with me. He said he'd see me in about an hour.
When Greg walked into the room about an hour later, his mouth dropped open when he saw Billy sitting in the chair across the floor.