Well, like most guys, I never thought it would happen to me. I was like everybody else raised in the fifties and sixties — well, not everybody, but most. I grew up thinking that "queers" and "fags" were lower life forms if they were alive at all.
Now it's a new century and things have changed. And with the times, so have I changed. It didn't happen all at once and it took a lot of soul searching, but I've "crossed the bar". Here's how it happened...
Sheila was promiscuous. I knew it going in, but it didn't really matter to me because I wasn't looking for a housekeeper, just a good fuck. She was that and more. She had a rep as a party girl and a slut. For my purposes at the time (I was just twenty one), that was perfect. Still, she was clean and careful. She loved sex in any form and wasn't too proud to let all the men she met know it. I don't know but that she fucked every man she ever knew.
Sheila was older than I was, but still attractive. She was a little bit overweight but her face made up for it. She had a cute mouth and pretty eyes. Long eyelashes graced her lids and she would bat them at anybody who showed an interest. Her weight gave her those big tits, too. She was a terrible driver but she never got a ticket; never had to go to traffic court. Any cop who was fortunate enough to stop her left with sticky drawers from the blow jobs she gave them.
When I met her she was just coming out of a long-time relationship. Her ex- boyfriend was a long-haul trucker who spent most of his time out of town. When he came home and found Sheila in bed with his sister he shoved them both around a little and ran off. Now, I know that most guys would have just stripped down and jumped in between them, but this guy reacted that way. At any rate, the sister grabbed her clothes and took off too.
So when I went into the Bucket of Blood there in Cle Elum, Washington, Sheila was sitting at the bar — and for once she was alone. Of course it was only ten in the morning and most folks kept to 'normal' drinking hours. I was working for the Milwaukee Railroad at the time and had just gotten off a freight we'd brought in from Othello and we'd had to double the hill at Vantage so it had been a long night for me. In other words, for me it was Happy Hour.
I ordered a beer and a shot and sat down to relax. I knew Sheila by reputation, though we'd never been introduced or spoken to one another. She was the only other patron of the bar that morning so she naturally gravitated down to where I was sitting, my feet resting on the brass rail.
"Well, you must have had a hard night," she said. I looked up at her and smiled.
"You too," I replied. She just grinned and sipped her Bloody Mary.
"I've had harder," she said and winked. I threw my shot back and sipped my beer.
"I bet you have."
"Well now," she said, putting on an attitude. "I don't know you, sir, so I hardly think you can say something like that."
"Oh, Sheila, come on. Everybody knows you. This is a pretty small town, you know."
She shrugged. "Oh I guess you're right. Still, I don't know you. What's your name anyway?" So it went. It surprised me when she told me about her boyfriend running off. We'd just met and she was sharing something most people would save for their best friends — if they'd even tell it then. The idea of Sheila and another woman in bed together was pretty intriguing to me. We dueled verbally a while and when I finished my beer I stood up.
"I have a date with my pillow," I said. "Maybe I'll see you around again."
"Count on it, Bucky," she said. "I'm easy to find."
I left the bar and went home to bed. But Sheila stayed in my mind for a while. Something about her just got to me. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was her reputation or the easy sexuality she exuded. At any rate, the next time we met she was three sheets to the wind but she was still sober enough to remember me.
It was at the Wagon Wheel that time. It was one of my days off and it was around nine at night. I waded into the crowd — there was a live band that night, twanging out country tunes — and it was pretty crowded. I elbowed my way to the bar and shouted out my order. While I waited I felt somebody pinch my ass and I spun around. There was Sheila. Her loose top was nearly off her left tit and she was obviously drunk.
"Hey, Buck," she slurred. "What's doin'?" I reached out and pulled her strap up so she wouldn't get arrested for public nudity. I could tell she had left her bra at home.
"Not much, babe. What's up with you?"
"Oh I kicked that bastard out today." I had no idea what or who she was talking about but that didn't matter. She just went on. "I mean, what the fuck's wrong with a girl wanting to have a little pussy once in a while? I guess it was because he thought he was so macho... hey — you know Mary?"
"Uh... no. I don't know any girls named Mary." It took a bit because I was still stuck back at the part where she had said the thing about "a girl wanting pussy". I remembered her story and wondered if this was the same girl. The images flooded my mind and weighed me down.
"Doesn't matter. Anyway, why don't you and me dance?" She set her empty glass on the bar and dragged me by the arm out through the crowd. The dance floor was just as crowded as the rest of the place. The only thing that differentiated the standees from the dancers was the motion. The whole bar was filled up. I let her drag me and followed along. The band was playing a slow song and she sort of molded her body to mine and we swayed back and forth.
Now I'm not much of a dancer, but I can hold my own. I could feel Sheila's tits pressing against my belly as we danced. She was only about five feet tall and I'm six-two. Her hands sort of slipped down to my ass and she pulled me tighter. I let my own hands slide down her back until they were cupping her generous cheeks. My dick, naturally, started to respond. She had her face leaning against my chest and when I got hold of her butt she took a deep breath and sighed. I guessed she liked it.
When the song ended she looked up at me. There was a different light in her eyes than there had been before. She smiled at me and asked, "Listen, why don't we get some air?"
That was fine with me. I'm not a smoker and I was about to choke from the miasma in the small bar. We pushed through the crowd toward the door. Just before we got there a man stepped out in front of us. "Where the fuck do you think you're going, bitch?" He was dressed in "logger chic" (striped hickory shirt and jeans with red suspenders) could barely stand up, he was so toasted. I tried to maneuver around him without making a scene but he was determined.
"Marvin, just get out of the way," Sheila said in a tired voice.
"Fuck you! Who's this prick?" He turned his bleary gaze on me. I'm not really a fighter but I just wasn't in the mood to fend off this cocksucker.
"Hey friend, just move aside, okay?" I appealed to a consciousness that had long deserted the guy.
"Eat me!" he said and backed off a half step in a move I recognized. He was too drunk to make a serious effort but I knew he was about to swing. I planted my feet and gently pushed Sheila away and back. When his fist came up I easily shoved it aside and put my foot against his scuffed work boot. I grabbed his arm and pulled. He went down like one of the trees from his chain saw. People moved away but one guy had been standing with his back to us. Marvin hit him and took him down with him.
That guy was pretty drunk too and took the accident personally. As Sheila and I walked out the two of them were wrestling clumsily on the sticky floor. Sheila explained that Marvin was her ex-boyfriend and he was still sore about Sheila taking Mary, to bed. It was a little while before I got the whole story about that from her, and longer still before I met Mary — when she came to bed with Sheila and me.
That night I drove Sheila home to her little rented cabin. It was a little three room log cabin that she rented from a local motel by the month. There was a queen sized bed that filled the bedroom, a bathroom, and the biggest room held a couch, a table, and along one wall was the kitchen. It wasn't much but it was everything a single girl or guy needed.
Sheila held my hand and dragged me inside with her. I'd intended to just take her home and leave. It isn't my idea of a perfect evening to take a drunk to bed. But she had other ideas. There were no preliminaries. She just went to the bathroom and left the door open. When she rolled her pants and panties down I saw her ass for the first time. She sat on the toilet, yawning as she emptied her bladder noisily into the bowl. She stood up to wipe and my dick twitched at the sight of her hairless mound.
She noticed me looking and grinned. She used her feet to get the rest of the way out of her pants and then lifted her top off over her head. She kept smiling as she swayed back into the "living room" and crossed to me. "Let's go to the bedroom and get naked," she said, as she pulled my shirttails out of my jeans.
In a few minutes we were in the bedroom rolling around and exercising our mouths on each other. I'll say one thing: Sheila was a great lay. We tussled back and forth and then she latched that pretty mouth onto my cock. I'm not hung huge, but she was the first girl who could get the whole thing into her mouth and throat. I popped off after only about five minutes and she slurped it all in. She crawled up my body and I tasted my come as we kissed.
.... There is more of this story ...