Chapter 2

Eventually, I came to understand that I never had a chance with my best friend Gloria. I don’t think it was because she was so beautiful and I was a bit of a dork. In fact, I think the simple truth was that she was interested in guys that made her juices run like those bulls over in Europe with all the men running their ass off to keep from getting gored. It was hard for me to watch one of those newsreels because I had this silly fear of getting gored by a sharp point horn and the very mention of a “bullfighter” was enough to send me into a tizzy.

It was difficult to understand what intelligent women saw in guys that teased an angry half ton animal with nothing on their mind except to destroy the color red. I had to suffer through Gloria’s involved stories about her boyfriends and the things she did to make them happy just because they were risk takers or truly “bad” boys with no qualms about slapping a female around to prove that they were in control. She would tell me things like how she loved getting her hair pulled nastily by a big strong he-man and made to take filthy abuse that most woman would consider downright unromantic. As I grew older, I discovered that a number of really attractive females loved to be humiliated like that by these so-called “bad” boys in ways that made my blood boil in anger at their lack of compassion. One time she showed me her backside as naked as a jaybird with big ugly bruises from a guy that liked to make her suffer in silence. I was perplexed that she accepted it like it was some exciting scene from a ten-cent novel because she was one of the smartest girls I had ever met. I guess intelligence and common sense didn’t have a close correlation in such matters and all she had uppermost on her mind was how far one of those guys would go to rob her of her dignity.

In a way, my relationship with Veronica was a lot more beneficial to losing that sense of frustration I would get just listening to Gloria’s stories of her sorry treatment. Veronica was honestly ashamed of the fact she never managed to stay in the convent because of her issues with getting pregnant and all. At least, she knew when she was being silly and I knew she had some fairly good goals to achieve in life despite her failure in religious circles. I think I was the only one that knew it was the devious plotting of the sanctimonious old priest that got her in the family way. Everyone just automatically assumed it was the Puerto Rican delivery boy or one of the juvenile delinquents the sisters were trying to rehabilitate into constructive life styles. I was glad they didn’t point the finger of suspicion at me just because I was at that stage when my cock was perpetually stiff with desire to nail a pretty girl up against wall with her panties down. I have to admit that I never did any such thing and that it was just a figment of my imagination.

Veronica was pretty good about “breaking” me into humping females and she insisted we do it over and over again until I got it “right”.

The private club where Gloria danced almost every night was a source of shame to the neighborhood hypocrites that considered girls that danced without their clothes as Godless hussies unworthy of interaction with decent folks. Her family was so ashamed that they made her live in her aunt Rita’s basement like she was an outcast or much worse. Actually, I found the basement to be a fairly nice place with lots of space to spread out and have hobbies and places to have interesting games. Another advantage was the fact that right next door was an Irish family with five female teenagers all hot to trot and forever talking about the mysteries of romance and other such nonsense. Gloria was sort of a princess to them and they listened to her stories of the men that frequented the club like it was all gospel truth. I had to smile at that because I knew my Gloria to be a bit of an actress in such matters and she would often turn a story on a dime just to suit her emotions at the time.

Those girls were a handful for their poor parents and it was a good thing that condoms were affordable now because they sure went through an awful lot of them on a Saturday night. I was sort of friendly with the youngest one. She was barely eighteen and long past the kissing stage of romance. She was the one that showed me how easy it was for her to put the condom on me with her lips and I was forever grateful to her for her inventive ways to get my cookies off. Her name was Cindy and she was probably the best oral giver of the sisters even though she was the youngest. Then, there were the nineteen year old triplets, Winnie, Bonnie and Nell. They were identical and I never could tell them apart except for the fact that Winnie had braces and Bonnie had a habit of playing with her hair that was faintly sensuous and gave me a hard-on every time she did it right in front of me. The oldest was Scarlett having just broken the twenty year old barrier and strangely the only virgin in the bunch. I discovered on an interesting trip to the beach that she much preferred taking it in her rear door because it meant if her partner forgot the condom it didn’t matter because she still couldn’t get pregnant. I think she was secretly addicted to taking it back there because she was always telling me,