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Author’s note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, writings about his life. I have edited these accounts and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.
******************** 00: Start from the very beginning
It was a dark and stormy night. I was conceived on a rugged coastline, the typhoon-driven waves crashing brutally on the rocks below the cliff-top hostelry. My life was the result of separation-induced ardor, hormones boiling and bursting into steam. Something like that. At least, that is what Mom told me.
Dad was a handsome devil, tall, dark, and muscular, a manager at a major Southern California utility. The company was building new distribution lines up the coast. Dad found himself overseeing work in Pismo Beach, halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco, and over 200 miles away from their suburban Los Angeles home, where he was born and raised.
Mom was tall and slender, with black hair and eyes, a nurse who fell in love with this injured sailor in a US Navy hospital in the months following the end of World War II. Mom had been home without him for a few weeks, tending their infant daughter, when they arranged a visit to the work site. She handed the baby to her older sister Jan and boarded the Pacific Coast Express train for a weekend fuck-o-rama.
Ah, the primal passion! The flowing juices! Dad pounding Mom until she could not walk straight! No need to scoop up and devour Pismo Clams as aphrodisiacs. Their mutual desire sufficiently drove their couplings.
I got that story from Mom. Dad and his male kin did not talk much about their lives. Dad did not talk about surviving the sinkings of three aircraft carriers during the Pacific war. His younger brother Reid did not talk about liberating Nazi concentration camps. Their father did not talk about surviving the trenches in World War I. And none of them talked about their love lives, or their work, or their hopes and dreams.
Mom and her mother and sister were talkers, and moaners and screamers too. Mom and Jan also hinted at having been lovers, and pulling three-ways with Jan’s husband Lou. I would not put it past them. Mom and Jan’s folks were bikers in their youth, and booze smugglers during Prohibition. A wild family!
Mom and Jan’s folks lived in the next town east. Jan and Lou and their kids lived in the next town north. I was sexually involved with those cousins a couple decades later. I tell those stories in other chapters.
Dad’s folks had a small farm at the undeveloped south edge of town, with a walnut grove, a little truck garden, and a large poultry yard with chickens, turkeys, rabbits, and goats. Beside the grove and poultry yard were two house lots: Dad’s, and his brother Reid’s. Their big sister Elena lived just a block away.
Yes, we were a close family. Each of those households had three kids. Even after Dad moved us a few miles away, all we kids were often together after school and most weekends and during holidays. A community swimming pool was just a few blocks away. On hot days, I often stopped there, biking to or from the farm.
So I grew up next to a farm, and with older and younger cousins in various stages of sexual development. Childhood fun included watching goats and rabbits fucking, and older cousins making out and screwing with their dates. The truck garden and poultry yard were enclosed with high vine-covered fences and tall trees. We kids tended to run around naked back there in privacy much of the time.
Yes, we studied our and each other’s anatomies. The biology of reproduction was no mystery to us.
We sometimes played a 78-RPM record in the farmhouse:
“It ain’t no sin, To take off your skin, And dance around in your bones”
Aunt Elena’s husband Mike was sent to Japan as a civilian administrator after World War II. He never came back. Mike abandoned Elena and their kids to live with a minor prince of the Japanese royal family. Elena responded by becoming a party girl, and taught her kids how to party too. Her youngest son Dane and I were best buddies. Years later, I stayed at Dane’s place. He would go bar-hopping and bring home drunk girls for us to share. I tell that story in another chapter too.
Aunt Elena liked watching us kids playing naked in the sprinkler on hot days. She liked watching us when we bathed. When I was young, she gave me a (phallic) toy sea serpent. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and chatted with me, from childhood into my early teens. She gave me a nice eighteenth birthday present: a blowjob. Not my first, but my first from her, and my best to date.
Sorry, I cannot tell you about my interactions with Uncle Reid and Aunt Dot’s kids. Impermissible here.
My older cousins’ sex lives were on display. Dane’s brother and sister were some years bursa escort older than we were, and did not have a lot of space or privacy in their nearby home, where they lived even after graduation and employment. But one almost-hidden corner of the poultry yard was a secluded little private yard fenced by thick trees and was accessible by a path by my home. We left a patio table and chairs and two chaises there. This is where the cousins brought friends for fun.
I could (and did!) sit on a tree branch and peer down invisibly on the amorous action. In a way, the human encounters did not differ much from the mating rituals of rabbits and goats. Approach; penetrate; leave.
Oldest cousin Bill would bring a girl. They might briefly neck on a chaise. He dropped his pants. She took off her shirt, maybe, and her bra, maybe, and her panties. She might suck his steely cock. They assumed a position from a limited set: missionary or doggie. Bill pounded away. Light reflected off his speeding, glistening piston. He eventually grunted. She might yell once, rarely twice, sometimes never. If she did not yell, I might not see her there again. Bill was not always the greatest performer.
Middle cousin Louise would bring a guy. She usually wanted more necking time on the chaise. She removed her bra from under her shirt and her panties from under her skirt. She laid him back on the chaise and fisted his dick until he was hard, then mounted him cowgirl-style and started pumping. If she yelled before he did, she might roll into missionary or doggie position and let him pound away. If he yelled before she did, she might fist his dick till he was hard again, then go missionary or doggie. If she did not yell, I never saw him there again. Louise had her performance standards.
Sometimes they double-dated. Bill might bring another guy and two girls. Or Louise might bring another girl and two guys. Or Bill would bring a girl and Louise would bring a guy. They took turns on the two chaises, and swapped. But on the days that Bill and Louise fucked each other, the other guy and girl were usually the same ones. They might have been brother and sister too; I did not catch their names.
Sometimes I chose a different viewpoint, a place where I knew Louise might see me through the branches. She did not seem to mind my peeping. She even grinned at me a couple times, and flashed me occasionally. Otherwise, I was not on her radar much. I was just the little-kid cousin who did not tease her.
Those were my Dad’s-side cousins. My Mom’s-side cousins lived a few miles away and were not on display. But I do know that siblings Janie and Terry fucked each other when they were older; and my sister Lyn and I and our blood cousin Janie fucked each other; and Mom fucked her blood nephew Terry and his wife Jill; and I fucked Jill, but she was not blood kin, so big deal. Some of those stories are in other chapters.
The family that lays together, stays together, or something like that.
As I bicycled around my middle school after-hours, I sometimes saw kids playing ‘doctor’ in nooks and passages between the buildings. Usually just one girl and one guy; sometimes two on one either way; partially disrobed, feeling, probing, but not in missionary or doggie or bent-over or up-against-the-wall postures. I figured they were being just like dogs sniffing each other’s butts.
I did not see such displays in any of my high schools, but 1) I could not bike or skateboard around those campuses, and 2) these older kids likely knew better than to explore in public.
Ah, but the college kids! When Dad moved us a few miles from the farmside house, it was only a short bike ride to a cluster of colleges. These campuses had their own nooks and crannies and private garden spaces. I had a favorite hidden vantage point to look into a popular lovers’ nook with a picnic table and benches.
And college kids were more inventive. What I saw of my cousins was mostly just one-on-one sex with peers in a very few positions. Many college kids fucked in groups. One or two guys with two or three girls; one or two girls with two or three guys; two or three or four guys or girls together; older and younger fuckers, probably teachers and students; and the occasional sex-train.
An older woman wearing a long wool skirt and a tweedy jacket came to my spy nook with four younger men in jeans and college sweatshirts. She lay back on the picnic table. Two of the men took turns with their faces in her crotch while she sucked the other two in turn. Then all four took turns being blown and fucking her, first in missionary position, then on elbows and knees. She yelled quite a few times.
An older man in similar professorial garb, but with trousers rather than a skirt, came to the nook with four girls wearing short skirts and college sweaters. He lay on his back on the table while one girl took her skirt and panties off and sat on his face and another girl blew him, then mounted him cowgirl-style. bursa escort bayan The two girls pulled their sweaters up, played with each other’s exposed tits, and kissed.
The other two girls took their skirts and sweaters off, with nothing underneath. One lay on a picnic bench; the other lay on top of her in the opposite direction. They spread their legs. Both had their faces in the other’s crotch. After some turbulence, the girls all shifted positions. A bit later, the girls took turns bending over the picnic table while the man screwed them in succession. Everybody yelled.
Some kids would do almost anything for passing grades, I guessed.
I was born in mid-century and I hit puberty by the time of JFK’s assassination. This era featured unsafe cars and sex, cheap gas and cigarettes, black-and-white TV, hypocrisy about sex and race and class, cultivated fears of imminent nuclear annihilation… and drive-in movie theatres.
Some of the local drive-in’s showed only clean family fare. Bo-ring. The ‘good’ drive-in’s specialized in films with monsters, aliens and robots chasing big-titted girls, or spies and big-titted girls, or surf / beach party films with big-titted girls in bikinis, etc. Oh yeah.
Cheap kids would pile a bunch of friends in the car trunk and pay just one admission. Horny kids would go with one couple in the front seat and more in the back seat. In either case, the patrons were usually busy sucking and fucking rather than actually watching the films.
The ‘best’ local drive-in featuring films with big-titted girls had a break in its fence. Skinny kids like me had no trouble sliding through the gap. No, I was not really interested in the lousy movies. But by staying in the shadows, I always had good views of the sex.
A ’55 Chevy Belvedere was rocking. I peered in the side windows. A girl with great tits was riding a guy in the front seat. A pair of great-looking legs were spread in the back seat with a scrawny hairy pimply male ass thrusting frantically. How the fuck did he rate that?
A ’60 Ford Fairlane was rocking. Through the windows, I saw a missionary fuck in the front, with a better-looking male ass. In back, TWO girls were riding their side-by-side partners. The guys were sucking and fondling their tits. The girls were kissing each other. Oh yeah.
A muddy Dodge pickup was rocking. A girl was on top of a guy in the front. A girl was on her back in the pickup bed, blowing one guy who knelt beside her while another guy was between her legs, screwing her. After a bit, the guys in back exchanged places and continued.
A rusty Studebaker Lark was not rocking. But blankets were spread beside it, and three couples were busy. The girls were all on their hands and knees. The kneeling guys all pumped away behind them. Then a girl said “switch,” and the guys all moved over to different cunts.
A familiar-looking ’59 Rambler American was not rocking, and nobody was in the front seat, but a topless woman was in the middle in back, and guys on either side of her were sucking her tits. She looked familiar too. Holy shit, that’s Aunt Elena! Out partying again, yeah.
This drive-in, like most others, was de-facto segregated. People from one part of town and its high school occupied one side, while those from another part of town and its high school were on the other side. Only idiots actually watching the lousy films parked in the middle.
White Californians occupied most of the drive-in. Blacks had one back corner of the area, Mexicans had the other back corner, and white Okies were stuck in the middle back. The social stratification was pretty obvious. At least nobody fought there; that would get you banned.
I went sorta wild after my folks divorced and I was bounced from house to house. I went running around naked in the neighborhoods at night. I ghosted across lawns and down alleys. If I heard or saw a car approach, I ducked behind a hedge or fence or parked car or whatever. I was never caught, not once.
I tried looking in through front windows but they were usually curtained. Some gates were unlocked, and I could sneak into back yards, and peer into bedroom or other windows, which might not be covered.
HILLMAN was the name on the mailbox. Mr Hillman was a middle-aged middle-height middle-appearance guy who I never saw wear anything but a business suit, the few times I ever saw him. He was apparently away a lot, on business, I guess. Can you guess what comes next?
Mrs Hillman was younger, brighter, pretty sexy, a fairly tall bleached blonde with a thin face, full lips, wide mouth, high cheekbones, and luscious tits, with wide dark aureoles and thick nipples. Her waist was thin and her hips were wide. Her muff was medium brown, unbleached. Her legs were tennis-toned, although she only went to the courts when Mr Hillman was at home in the detached-garage ranch house.
Mrs Hillman’s body was visible because she was rarely dressed when at home, unless escort bursa Mr Hillman was there. If I rang her doorbell during the day, she always answered wrapped in a polka-dot terry robe and apparently nothing else. Her robe was sometimes open, especially when I smelled alcohol on her breath. I do not think she deliberately flashed me. She was just careless about staying covered around uninvited visitors.
With invited visitors, her body was VERY visible, at least through the backyard windows, at least when her visitors were not covering her body with their own. Their bodies were quite visible too. All of them.
When Mr Hillman was not at home, other men were. Many other men. Many women, too. Her visitors did not park in front of the house. They either walked up the alley, or parked in her alley-facing garage.
Mrs Hillman did not close the curtains on windows facing her backyard, and did not turn off lights, so her visitors were easy to see. Peering in, I recognized some of the men and women as neighbors. I recognized others as merchants with downtown shops and offices. I did not recognize others, especially the dark and swarthy men and women.
Mrs Hillman liked having groups of visitors of both sexes. She liked prolonged athletic sex on beds, tables, couches, stuffed chairs, the floor, wherever. I could not see her kitchen counters but she probably fucked there too. I sometimes saw her fucking in and on the cars parked in her garage.
Mrs Hillman like vaginal, oral, anal, and tit-fucking sex. She liked having simultaneous dicks (and the occasional dildo) stuffed into her vagina, anus, mouth, and both fists. She liked having mouths at her mouth and pussy and anus and tits. She liked having pussies in her mouth or rubbing her vulva.
Mrs Hillman was always good for a show.
Other neighbors might have fewer visitors, or even none, but were often just as indiscreet and careless about gates and curtains and lights. I made notes of which families were in-house nudists, and of the times when certain girls and women undressed for the night, and of the dates were husbands were away so wives could play, and vice-versa. And which occupants liked rubber, leather, whips, chains, ropes, hoses, water balloons, fruit and vegetables, and other toys.
You would find that notebook to be filled with very interesting information. Good thing it is gone now.
I cannot talk here about some of what I saw. Let us just say that not all sexual acts I witnessed involved consenting human adults, and leave it at that.
My sex education was pretty well-rounded even before anyone touched me.
All that voyeurism did not help me socially. In school, I was shy and clumsy, at least till I was dragged into sexplay in my senior year. I tell that story in the next chapter. I did not go to dances or hang out with popular kids or any of that teen-bonding stuff. I told myself that dancing was dry-humping and was trivial. I told myself that I did not need cliques or clubs. But really, I was shy, and lacking in what pundits call self-esteem. Have you been there too?
My mid-teens were awkward at home. My sisters were growing tits. Mom went around the house half-naked. Neighborhood girls in my age cohort were more physically mature, and seemingly not interested in that weird skinny geek, me. I saw lots of sex, but none of it involved me. As it turned out, some girls *were* interested in me, but I did not read their signals right, not then. I could have had sex sooner. But I could not tell you about that here, could I?
******************** determinants and cusps
I’ll get serious here.
My life would have been very different if I had not been born. (OK, you can laugh now.) My life would also have been very different if certain events outside my control had not happened.
* My older sister Matty died of Rubella when she was three and I was half her age. Had she lived, my folks might not have had two more daughters later, Sue and Lyn. Had she lived, I would be the younger brother, not the oldest. What would have been our relationship? Would we have fucked, as Lyn and I did much later?
(I have seen photos taken at age three of Dad’s older sister Elena, and Matty, and my granddaughter LuAnn. They look identical. Those genes are very strong.) (I also recently saw my sister Sue in bed with her adult son. Our behaviors are consistent.)
* I fell from a moving car when I was three. My skull was fractured; I was hospitalized for months. I was diagnosed and treated as pre-epileptic for many years. How much of my later behavior resulted from brain damage? Yes, I scored very very high on IQ tests. Did the brain damage lower my IQ, or raise it, or what?
* Mom found Dad too boring after twenty years and divorced him when I was sixteen. (Mom was still a nurse, and she fell for a patient, and dumped the old companion. Same old story.) The family fractured; my life fractured. Had they stayed together, would my life have been much more stable and mainstream?
(I came home from school more than once during the divorce to find Mom in bed with her new redneck stud, the curtains drawn, the noises more animalistic than goats humping, the smells unpleasant.)
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