Chapter 2

"I've been through the desert with a horse with no name. It felt good to be out of the rain," sang America. "In the desert, you can remember your name for there ain't no one for to give you no pain." Terrible but catchy lyrics lasting generations. I had better grammar but far less memorability in my songs. Even my hits wouldn't stick implacably in the brain.

Driving east in my Range Rover out of the fertile wine country of Marin County towards the desert of Nevada, the fucking song circled like a whirling dervish attaining some sort of sickening visionary state.

Stopping in Reno I caught the eye of a fan. I had her blow on my dice at craps and got streaky. The same age as me and my wife, otherwise she couldn't be more different from Mary. Petite, with short black hair and subtle curves, the divorcee joined me in my room afterwards where we spent the night fucking.

Being small and light in my arms proved advantageous. We started as soon as my suite door closed. Clothes as if in flames got removed desperately. Lusting after me for years, fantasizing about just such a moment, her juicy cunt made penetration easy when she hopped into my arms and I pushed her against the door and she grasped my rock hard staff and guided me in. Small everywhere but her cunt--in a way she was all cunt--I impaled her swiftly, her cylindrical walls hardly pressed at all around me, and her dripping slickness brought even less friction. It enabled a long fuck which moved from the door to walking though the suite to dropping onto the bed, her clinging to me keeping the conjunction intact.

I fucked her through her first orgasm. Her silenced squeal and tightened embrace and convulsive spasm around my cock and her golden tanned face and chest reddening revealed it. For her second I gave way to my balls' demand for release when she repeated the process of approaching and achieving climax and I joined her.

Rolling off her, she climbed on me and kissed me enthusiastically all over my face. "Thank you," she repeated between kisses, "Thank you thank you thank you," finally ending them with lips on lips, quieting, lingering, becalming and relaxed.

In the aftermath she revealed her school girl crush even if she was in college getting her Masters in Education. "I guess I had my rock star infatuation late," she admitted in her high, girlish voice, another contrast to the sultry tenor of my wife. "Something about the lyrics, smart yet tender. And your voice, so honest. And the way you sang into the camera as if singing just for me with your sweet, pretty blue eyes."

She kissed down my soft, pale chest and my soft belly—I kept myself in shape mostly, but always had a layer of fat muting muscle tone. She seemed to enjoy it. The reality hadn't extinguished her myth of me. At least her kittenish smile revealed no distaste. And speaking of kittens, her tongue came out to play licking my belly and slithering within the button.

Soon her tongue tasted our combined juices on my soft penis which caused it to bounce and harden. She giggled and embraced my revitalizing manhood with her lips, making smacking noises when they elongated it with exhilarating pressure and released it. Her hand held it, keeping it in place and stroking at the base when her mouth returned to sucking.

"I want to taste you," I requested.

"I'm full of your nasty sperm," she pointed out.

"I want to get intimate with that marvelous cunt," I insisted.

She shrugged and moved around. I grabbed all four pillows to prop up my head. We commenced our sixty-nine until I coaxed a need in her fulfilled when I filled her cunt with cock.

She rode me ecstatically, my fingers rapidly rubbing her clit and my hand squeezing her small breasts and lengthy nipples until she gasped out another climax and settled onto my torso.

Testing my deep presence inside her with a nudge of her hips, she remarked, "You didn't cum."

"That's okay," I said. But she recommenced riding me. Looking at her and feeling her roomy cunt, I couldn't reach climax. Something was missing. Maybe she lacked the thick clutching lips and expert inner milking of my wife's pussy. Maybe her breasts didn't fly around like a crazed stripper the way my wife's did. Maybe I should have found a closer model. Looking at her intense concentration and her joyous deep blue eyes and the ripples of her tight little abdomen, I decided to enjoy the moment, to let the moment move me beyond regret and into my new life.