© 2002 all rights reserved.
The '80's, a decade to remember: Post pill, pre AIDS. Gloria Steinham making waves eagerly surfed by the assertive, independent women of San Francisco.
"A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle," was a popular paraphrase, often attributed to Steinham, but the source is Australian Irina Dunn. The best rebuttal I'd heard, in a crowded Union Street meat market bar, was: "Yeah, but fish don't have cunts that enjoy a ride on a sturdy cock."
The '60's gave us Flower Power, the '70's seemed to be in the doldrums while we recovered from the debacle in SE Asia. The '80's suffered a backlash, an over swing, an exaggerated reaction to new freedoms. Bra burning women chained themselves to pillars, and, delicate fists raised high, claimed the decade as their own. "Pussy Power," they chanted. "Now we get ours!"
Thank you, Ms. Steinham, those girrrls just wanted to have fun, thanks, in part, to you.
I enjoy the odd sort of person who gently illuminates as well as entertains. So these Tenderloin Tales are an amalgam of characters who rose above the crowd, in my view. Like nail heads rising above the deck planks, sometimes we trip over them.
The Tenderloin Tales are an effort to capture a bit of the look and feel of that short lived period which started with sexual excess and ended prematurely with the onset of AIDS and the discovery of the HIV.
This story begins a series of tales based on adventures with a variety of women in and around San Francisco. I hope you find these little tidbits about my favorite city entertaining.
Armistead Maupin's "Tales of the City" is a great read. Love his domain name. http://www.literarybent.com/ A delightful Brit speak play on words.
Two women I knew for too short a time.
Big Mo and Little Mo.
They were diametric opposites; Big Mo, high intensity and extro, Little Mo, low key and intro.
Big Mo would take your all, pat your ass, and send you on your way.
Little Mo would just lay there at the finish. It seemed best to just leave her alone with herself.
Big Mo had the Protocol of Life down cold. Know what that means? The Rules. She didn't tell you, "I can do that." She just looked at you. You knew she could. Do that, I mean. Anything asked of her, she'd figure it out. Usually in about a millisecond. One Thousandth of One Second and she had it. Then she'd gently smile and ask, only with her eyes, "Is that all there is?" Scary. Okay, yes, you are right. Performance Pressure Scary. Not in a bed. Out in the real world of make believe and quiet desperation.
I'd looked into her eyes, and had seen a reflection of: Not today, not tomorrow or next week, but ten years from now, forty years from now. She knew where she was going, just not the path. I liked her, and, so odd, told her so directly. No courage needed. It came out of me as easily as an exhaled breath. She was beautiful, but just not that sexually attractive for me. She had too much: Strength, understanding, vision. Your choice, including all of the above. Is it smart to attempt a better player than oneself? Sometimes. Perhaps not this time, I'd decided.
So what did little Mo have? Grit. True determination. She hunkered down and got the job done. Is that attractive? Not really. Not when compared to... Don't want to go there. You knew she could, would. It just wasn't exciting.
It is just all in the delivery, isn't it.
Panache. Charisma. Capable.
Quiet. Distant. Capable.
Which would you choose?
Which one do you think I chose?
Right. Little Mo.
Stinson Beach is a most popular swimming beach for San Franciscans. It's about an hour or so north across the Golden Gate bridge in Marin County, (Mah-RIN, not MARE-in, GeeDub) a scenic trip on twisting Panoramic Drive. There's not much there, but is visited occasionally by Great Whites. It's only distinction, I feel.
Just south is Red Rock Beach where everyone is naked. It's very popular. Adults lounge about drinking beer or wine or smoking something. Teenagers lark about, most with poorly aimed Frisbees or paddle balls. Naked children scamper under the watchful eyes of pot bellied fathers. Occasionally, a couple can be seen writhing gently under a blanket. Often there are nude climbers bouldering on the rocks. It's a very pleasant place to make love midweek when only a few regulars are about.
Mo leaned back against the green Franciscan rock watching me admire her well shaped thigh. She seemed pleased with herself, slightly amused by something going on in her head.
"You've great legs," I said, almost to myself. I gripped her sweat sticky, oil glistening firm quadriceps and squeezed gently. She moved her leg closer, bringing my gaze to her crotch. Her dark curls neatly trimmed, a hint of moisture glistening on her poochy lips.
"Mmm," she made an appreciative sound.
I leaned over and licked her thigh on the tasty looking untanned part under her hip bone, admiring her kaleidoscope of colors. Her legs were tanned dark with a narrow band of white around her hips. Her belly and shoulders were lightly tanned, her pink nippled breasts, pale white with fascinating blue veined tracings.
"You're very oral this morning, Gavin."
"You're too delicious for words."
"Can I suck your cock?" She flipped it with the back of her fingers. "I want to feel it get hard in my mouth."
Her tone so casual, I felt a moment of fluster.
"Sure. Would you like to sit on my face while?"
"No, thanks, your tongue distracts. Especially when you try to stick it in my ass hole."
"I'd like to try that next."
"Sorry, Gavin. That would hurt too much."
"Not if we used plenty of goop, it wouldn't. I'd love to watch you lay on your back and spread your cheeks for me."
"Bet you would," she said softly, her eyes flashing gentle warning.
She rolled close, and licked my belly.
"Want a prostate massage?" she said, a small, lewd gleam in her dancing eyes.
"Sure. Want a condom for your finger?"
"Ah, yes." She seemed pleased with the suggestion.
I dug around in my backpack pouch for a minute. "Here you are," I said, handing it to her. She ripped the purple foil with her teeth, spearing the juicy rubber with her rude finger.
"Ever had this before?" She asked, her eyes sparkly.
"Yes and no."
"Don't clench up on me now. Let me get in first. You're going to love how this feels."
"How do you know, Mo?"
We chuckled together at the alliteration.
"Cause it felt good when you were eating me."
"How many fingers did you have in my cunt?"
"Two. And one in your ass."
"You've broadened my connotation of the phrase 'stink finger', you know." Her tone droll.
"Hmm," I laughed. "My cock's gonna get hard before you get your mouth on it."
"What is it about me that turns you on? I've watched you salivate like a dog for how many months now?"
"Four? Maybe five. I like the way you carry yourself. Your regal posture makes me want to bend you over and pound your ass." That image stopped me for a moment. "And I like the way you talk, how you say things. So artless, no games, no defenses, very innocent, almost."
"Never thought posture would be a turn on."
"Well, you know I'm sort of weird about women. I love women." I paused for a moment to study her face. "Maybe too much sometimes."
"That's okay. No points off in my book, especially in this town. Ready?"
"Roll over and stick your butt up. I'm going to grease you up first."
I turned my butt to her, and dropped my head to the blanket. I watched waves break on the dark pebbly sand a few yards away, a slight breeze cooling my dangling balls.
"You know, I never thought I'd give you a tumble. Now look at us. We've fucked ourselves to a stub twice already this morning. You got much left in here?" She fondled my balls.
"I'm good for one or two more probably. Especially if you let me have your ass hole."
"These are pretty big balls," she spoke thoughtfully. "Maybe you can deliver."
"Mo, why did you give me a tumble? I never expected to get it on with you."
"Maureen gave you a very good reference. Said you were an artful fuck."
I felt warm suntan lotion dribble into my crack.
"And very conscientious, too. She let you fuck her ass?"
"Ask her. She'll be here in a while."
"Does she still switch hit?"
"Not so much. She tried for a time, but couldn't really get into it. Why?"
"I'd like to go down on her. I've never done it, and she's very nice."
I heard a little laugh, and felt a finger smear oil around my ass hole.
"And discreet. I had to twist her arm a bit to find out about you."
I felt a gentle probe, a tentative poke then steady pressure.
"Yeah. Stick it in me, girl." I couldn't help laughing.
Feeling like a skinny turd going in the wrong direction, her finger slid deep into my anus.
"Ooh," I chirped.
"Feel good?" she laughed.
"You know it does." I gave her an appreciative moan.
"Woof woof," I said, grinning like an oaf as I rolled to my side. Her finger slid out of my ass so I rolled again and lifted a leg over her head. She knelt as if in devout prayer between my legs. I hmphed at that thought. Big Mo knelt only before Career Goddesses.
"She said you were the only guy she'd ever known that could be silly while fucking."
.... There is more of this story ...