So I sat down and tried to write this thing in my normal quick-paced style. However, for some reason, I just kept feeling compelled to add the details and back-story that led to a hot weekend with this chick. So I decided to space it out over two installments just in case you’re the impatient type. And if you’re the really impatient type, then fuck off. Nobody’s twisting your arm to read this
You know what I like about a good lay report? Sure, it’s fun to come on here and swap adventures of drinking, fornicating and general debauchery like a bunch of juvenile assholes in the locker room, but sometimes, every so often, there’s more to it than that.
Sometimes, a certain combination of elements comes together that not only culminate in a good lay, but more than that, they make for a great STORY. This is one of those times. Sit back and grab a snack, guys. We’re goin on a ride.
Our story begins in the fall of 1990. The Grunge movement had just begun with a handful of bands out of Seattle that didn’t sound like anything anyone had ever heard of. We wore flannel shirts, ripped jeans and Chuck Taylors. We grew out our hair and we were all angry at something. What exactly we were angry about, none of us were completely sure. But it seemed the thing to do.
I was in the first half of my 8th grade year in the small town in North Carolina where I grew up. I was 13 years old and like many of my peers, a rebel without a cause and not much of a clue. I wore my hair in a jet black shock that hung from the top of my head and was shaved to the skin on the sides and back. It always hung over the left side of my face, my left eye peering through it mysteriously. It was hot.
It was that year that I met Selma. I call her Selma because she looks exactly like the actress, Selma Blair. Long brown hair, eyes as blue as the depths of a glacier, womanly curves, even at that young and tender age. She had a great personality too. Real down to earth, southern bred sweetheart.
To say I was sexually inexperienced at that point in my life is an understatement. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I had had one girlfriend, the year before, who was good friends with a girl I will refer to as J-minc. J-minc went out with my older brother and the four of us would hang out regularly.
So besides the one girlfriend the year before, and the few girls I had kissed here and there, Selma was the first girl I would have called a real girlfriend. If there is even such a thing in the 8th grade.
I met her at the local teen center. It was where all the kids went to hang out. They used to host overnight "lock-ins" where we would all hang out, listen to music, smoke cigarettes and make out. Sometimes we slept, sometimes we didn’t.
Haha…just reading that last paragraph, I realize how bad of an idea a lock-in with a bunch of horny teenagers is. I mean yeah, there was SOME adult supervision, but raging hormones can make for some creative ways of getting around those kinds of logistics.
For instance, I remember one time, this girl that I knew went down on her boyfriend on the back deck. They simply draped a jacket over her head/his pelvic region and three or four of his buddies stood in a circle around them, making it seem like they were all just standing around talking.
Being inexperienced and young as I was though, my exploits tended to be a little more innocent and tame. I remember the night that J-minc introduced me to Selma. We spent a few hours chatting about whatever when I decided to ask her if she would like to take a walk and sit with me on the large rock behind the teen center.
One thing led to another and before too long, we were making out and carressing each other. Of course, a makeout is no big deal these days, but at that time, it was the most exciting rush I had ever experienced. In my mind, she was now my girlfriend.
The cool thing about innocent youth is that to her, that kissing and touching meant the same thing. We were official. We would go on to spend afternoons and weekend evenings together. I would go over to her house after school, sit and chat with her and her mother for awhile before taking her on walks, holding hands and kissing.
One time, we went to the state fair together with her and her uncle. It was fun, but what made it an especially great evening was the ride home in the back of that station wagon her uncle drove. Up to that point, we had only kissed and touched each other, but that was the first time in my life that I actually fingered a girl.
For what it was worth, it was your typical teenage romance. I technically HAD had sex with this skank that my brother and all of his friends had fucked, the previous Spring, but hell, I had never even ejaculated at that point in my life (I never discovered masturbation until age 14) and, not knowing what to expect, I had ended up pissing in the condom. Yes. You read that right.
So perhaps I wasn’t pushing for sex with Selma so much as I wasn’t even sure how much I even wanted it. Considering how my one and only sexual encounter had gone, I wasn’t exactly excited about any future ones.
That wasn’t a problem until after dating Selma for a few months, a couple of high school boys with cars started coming around. I didn’t stand a chance. Not only were they more aggressive, they simply had better logistics on their side.
To say we drifted apart isn’t completely accurate. More like these high school boys started picking her up from school and from her house on the weekends. Before I knew it, she was regularly sleeping with one of them and I had been slotted into the loathsome position of orbiter.
I don’t remember too many details, but I do recall that one of the guys, the one that she was spending the most time with, was an unmitigated prick. A cruel and hateful guy. Think Doyle, from the movie, Slingblade. He was the quintessential type of guy that causes nice guys all over the world to scratch their heads wondering why guys like him always seemed to get the girls. We’ll call him Scooter.
Fast forward to 2009
America is fighting a war in the Middle East, an underground community of seduction artists is making waves throughout the world of dating/mating, and technology is making for some rather interesting ways in which we communicate and connect with one another.
One such technology that you all know I’m a fan of is social networking internet sites. I mostly use Myspace, but I’ve also recently started using Facebook. Not only have they been good for meeting the occasional random chick, but about a year ago, I was able to reconnect with J-minc.
Turns out that she has been doing well for herself. She has a good paying job, two beautiful little girls and a cool husband. Oh yeah and they’re swingers. Go figure that they have a great relationship and a happy home full of love and laughter.
Well, about a month ago, I open my inbox to see that I have a friend request from someone that I wouldn’t have expected to see. Someone I had written off and hadn’t thought about in years. It was Selma.
My first thought was, "Holy shit…she’s STILL hot!"
So I decide to gather some intel from J-minc. J tells me that Selma is married now, has two kids. She also tells me that Selma never has anything positive to say about that "fucker husband" of hers.
Johnny: Well who did she marry? Do I know him?
J-minc: One of those McFuckface boys…Scooter, I think?
Johnny: No fuckin way
Cue devil horns popping out of Johnny’s forehead…
Johnny: No fuckin way
J-minc: Are you ok?
Of all the fucking people…
Johnny: No fuckin way
Have you ever gotten a strong, unexplainable urge to do something that just didn’t make any rational sense whatsoever? Well, in the South, we have a phrase for that phenomenon: to get a hair up one’s ass. If that urge is particularly strong, one is said to have a WILD hair up one’s ass. I couldn’t tell you why, but right about then, I got a wild hair up my ass to game Selma. It really was irrational too. I mean hell, she lives so far away and it had been what? 15 years since the last time I had seen her in the hallway at school in our tenth grade year? Add to that the fact that there is pussy galore in the great city of Nashville. It just didn’t make any sense, but yet there it was…that overwhelming urge to just…fuck. her. everlovin. brains. out.
The first few email chats were pretty casual. I believe, on the first one, I made a comment about her being married, asked her how that was treating her, how had she been all these years, etc. She kept it casual too. At least right at first. Then, in a few days, as we chatted on facebook, I felt that wild hair start to tickle a little and just blurted out…
Johnny: So, I’m not sure if I should tell you this, but…when I saw your name and your picture on that friend request the other day…
Johnny: I got butterflies
Johnny: You don’t have to say anything. Matter of fact, it’s just fine by me if you don’t. I just needed to say that for me.
Her: Well, I’m flattered
I distinctly remember feeling a huge ‘BUT’ coming on…
Johnny: Selma, please…don’t say anything
After that, we switched to a somewhat lighter topic. Now, I know what you’re thinking. "No Johnny! Don’t EVER come out and tell a chick your feelings! That’s weak sauce!"
Or something to that effect, right? Haha…trust me, I second-guessed myself for a few days on that one. That was until the next time we chatted and she drops THIS…
Selma: You know…I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing when you told me what you told me the other night…
Johnny: About what?
Selma: About the butterflies
Johnny: Haha…oh yeah, that…hey, I told you you don’t need to say anything. I don’t want you to feel like I said that out of any expectation of obligation from you…I just spoke my mind as I felt it
Selma: No, I mean…I wanted to tell you I felt the same way
Feel like you’re in a sweet romance tale yet? I know…that’s why I was reluctant to write this…
This conversation opened the door to more intimate talk. First it was about how bad her marriage had been for all these years. Then it was about the lack of sex (which may or may not be true, I’m aware…ask me if I care though) Then finally things turned toward the topic of what we would do with each other, given the chance.
I would bust out of nowhere, right in the middle of a chat
Johnny: So what are you wearing? Mmmm…that sounds so hot…god, can you imagine what it would be like if I were standing behind you, massaging your neck, your shoulders, kissing you around your ears…
Selma: Oh my…what are you doing
Johnny:..and how good it would feel to have my hands moving down the front of your shirt…but just to below the collar bone as I give you soft and light little kisses where your neck meets your jaw
I mean RICH descriptions, man…I was going all out. If you remember that post I made in T/T about doing this stuff over text messages, well–this is what inspired that.
Selma: Are you TRYING to make me have to change my panties?
Johnny: Just like giving you a little something to think about is all…is it working?
Selma: Ohhhh yeah…
This was all in the weeks leading up to Spring Break (last week). We eventually moved from chatting online to talking and texting over the phone. It didn’t take very long, what with the rich descriptions which were pretty much the equivalent to hot phone/cyber sex, plus the picture of my hard cock sent to her phone, before the both of us were talking about meeting up.
After friending each other on facebook, we did the same on myspace. Turns out her husband had been there when she opened her inbox to my friend request. This is the dialogue as she related it to me.
Scooter: Who is that? He looks kinda familiar
Selma: That’s Johnny Clifton…do you remember him?
Scooter: Ha! Yeah, I remember stealing you from him! What a douche!
Selma: Doesn’t he look so DIFFERENT?
I believe this is the point he heard the Johnny train rumbling in the distance…
Scooter: <high pitched voice, mocking> OOOOh…Johnny! He’s SOO dreamy!
So Selma told me about that particular conversation. When I stopped laughing she asked me
Selma: Do you remember that time when me, you and Scooter were all at the teen center and he said to you, "Hey Johnny, I’m gonna kiss your girlfriend" and then he kissed me, looked at you and said, "What the fuck are you gonna do about it?"
I thought long and hard. Hell, I’ve thought about it A LOT since she told me that, attempting to remember it. But no. I don’t. At least not consciously. I’ve even asked my brother if HE remembered it and he said he did. But I guess 17 years of living a fun-filled life since then has a way of blocking out the negatives…but was that ugly memory, if only remembered subconsciously, the reason behind that wild hair? I guess I’ll never know.
One thing I DO know is that ol’ Scooter boy remembers it. Hell, in his mind, that was his equivalent to the high school quarterback throwing the game-winning touchdown in the biggest game of the year…it was his greatest hit, his moment of glory. Told ya he was a prick.
I know all this because over the next few weeks, as I continued to game Selma, build her up and make her feel good about herself (read: compensate for the piss-poor ‘leadership’ she’s been subjected to for the past 13 years), Scooter started to notice some changes that made him rather uncomfortable. Apparently seeing her walk around with a smile in her eyes was a MAJOR red-flag for him and it was only a matter of time before he started acting out on his insecurity.
He would come home, get drunk and just start spouting off at the mouth, things like
Scooter: You tell that Johnny he can HAVE you! You tell him I never would have kissed his girlfriend if I knew you were gonna be THIS much trouble!
She told me about him saying that and I said
Johnny: BA HAHAHAHA! How does this dude even REMEMBER this shit?
Selma: You really don’t remember that?
Johnny: I swear to god, I don’t…hell, even my brother remembers it…but no…I don’t
So Spring Break was coming up and I decided it was time to strike. It had been ages since I had been to that sleepy little town and too long since I had been on a road trip. I requested the time off from work and put back a little money. I told Selma what weekend I planned to be there. She was dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that I was actually going to be coming.
Then things took a turn. Turns out that I had a tuition payment due at the beginning of the month that I had originally thought was due at the END of the month. I called her to give her the bad news.
Johnny: Ok look, there isn’t any easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come out with it…I can’t make it next weekend. I have a tuition payment due that I thought I didn’t have to pay for at least another month.
Silence on her end. When she finally spoke, I could tell that while she was trying to hide it, she was devastated. She thought I was blowing her off.
Selma: Well, uh…well…I mean…ok
Johnny: Hey now…don’t act like I’m blowing you off…this isn’t a cancellation, it’s just a postponement.
Selma: Well how much money would you need? I don’t want to wait to see you
Johnny: Hang on a second…I wouldn’t ask you to pay for me to come out there
Selma: Don’t you worry about that…how much do you need?
Shit, how much DID I need? Hadn’t J-minc told me I could stay at her house? Didn’t she have a spare bedroom?
Johnny: Just enough for gas, food and smokes
Selma: Well what are you waiting for?
Johnny: I don’t know…I feel bad asking you to do that
Selma: Duly noted…so are you coming or not?
Damn…how could I say no?
Johnny: Well I guess I’ll see you this weekend
The drive out was long, but pleasant. I ended up leaving Nashville on last Thursday afternoon, as I had slept until noon and I knew there was no way I was going to get up at 6 o’clock on Friday morning to make the drive like a normal person would.
As I rolled into my old home-town at 1 AM and made my way to J-minc’s house, I was flooded with memories from back in the day. I would see an apartment complex and think about the time I skipped school and hung out with my buddy that lived there, drinking all of his parents’ booze…the very street I drove on…how many cars had I dodged on my skateboard under the hot North Carolina summer sun on that blacktop? Holy shit…the MALL…let’s not even get started on THAT one…
I made it to J-minc’s house just after she had gotten out of the shower. She had to work in the morning but she had waited up for me. I came in and we exchanged pleasantries. Damn, was it good to see her. We sat up talking for a good half-hour before turning in for the night. She and her husband had to work in the morning and me…well…I had things to do the next day too.
To be continued…
PS: yeah, I know. no sex. if you’ve made it this far though, you know something good is coming, right? Have faith guys…
The difference between the brave and the coward is not emotion, its action. -Uncle Walker
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