Mrs. Robinson redux
true, fucked up
A recent first person account in Nerve ("What I learned about marriage by sleeping with married women") about making out with and /or fucking married women made me think about my own adventures with Mrs. Robinson and her sisters of the Mrs. Sisterhood.
I really really wanted to get it on with the Doctor's wife. I was 16 or 17, she was in her 30s. But it didn't happen. (I think she wanted it too, at least in my fantasies.)
My fatal flaw:: When I was drinking I'd fuck anything. I got the crabs off a girl I rubbed pubes with in the back seat of my cousin's car in Boise. Julia Davis Park. Cops. As I recall, I never did get it in, what with the booze and the clothes and cops. Fucking nightmare.
Later. College. Xmas break. Party, went back to the motel with a . . . grandmother. She hadn't been with a man for over 10 years she said. Both drunk. We smooched. It was a hard dry relatively unpleasant fuck, she cried at the end. I wanted to do it again of course. Morning. Jesus.
About this same time I was having regular sex with a petit 19 year old townie, Phyllis as I recall, who I could fuck 3 times a night, no problem, great sex, she gave head, wanted me to reciprocate -- uhuh, that was a sloppy cunt, I mean she was juicy, I just couldn't do it -- it took me several years to acquire that taste. She dumped me for a fucking wimp who played in a band. Probably gave head, too.
No crabs however that time around. What a naive world I lived in then, when crabs was my only worry.
Listen, married women, tho. Night school at Boise State. Met a married woman in a drama class. Bang, we took off in my old car once a week, skipped class, drove out in the boonies and fucked in the front seat of the car. She had three kids, her husband was a carpenter. I dropped by her place one day, she was ironing, her kids were there -- what was I thinking?
We never talked. We necked and rubbed bodies in the library. We drove as quickly as possible to park and fuck. She was hot, she was juicy and passionate, it was great. While it lasted. I couldn't keep track of her. No crabs.
I fucked the receptionist in the psych grad department, a couple of times one night when her husband was hell knows where and my wife was out of town. Had a sixpack or so, when out to a field of stubble near the cow college, spread a blanket and fucked madly two or three times. Yaaas, disaster, got the clap from that one -- was a bitch to hide from my wife.
The clap. Those were more innocent times too.
Still, the sex was pretty hot. I woulda gone back for more if I hadn't started seeping from my brainless dick.
I was teaching an intro psych class. She was separated or divorced, had two or three kids. I borrowed a closeby apartment from a friend and she and I would rendezvous for an hour or two every afternoon that summer. Hot lubricious sex.
She was apologetic, her cunt was so juicy I had to pump up superdick to get purchase -- she said that was why her husband had divorced her, after a couple of kids her cunt was so big .... and juicy. Ah, well, I liked it, I went back for more and more.
Finally got so I went over to her place at night, sometimes had a meal with her and her kids, watched TV, fucked her in the bathroom. Had to be careful because of the kids -- most of the time then, I controlled myself, no ejaculation. Needed to have something left in case my wife put the demands on me, I never knew when it might happen. Fucked. My mind was fucked up. (Still is, but that's another story)
Last fling:: I was working in a mental hospital, had a passionate fling with the secretary of the kids ward. We'd eat lunch together, talk, it got personal, gaze into each other's eyes, you know how it goes.
I fucked her a week after she got married, fucked her regularly that summer. We'd find a place to park -- we'd meet under the pretext of working late. A couple of times we abandoned the front seat of the car for a motel room. It was great. (By this time I was going down with abandon.)
Ahhh, her husband caught on. She confessed. He confronted me--why I didn't get shot I'll never know. I packed my wife off. I almost lost my job.
Okay okay, not my last fling: Quickly established another liaison with a social worker at the hospital. We had attended a conference together, gazed into each other's eyes, clicked. That night it was hot sex and it was that way for the rest of the summer. Her husband was on tour, some entertainment thing. Tess, I called her Tess (or did she call herself that, thinking of Thomas Hardy?), turned me on to -- what? MDA or acid or some damn thing -- great stuff outfuckingstanding sex. Even the bowel movements were cosmic shits.
I discovered reflections on every surface. I could see the history of containers in the palm of my hand, cupped. I got lost in the typographic symbol for capital "A", I mean you could just go absolutely in to the alphabet. And sex, my fucking christ I thought my brain would explode. I think the expression now used is "sweet".
Damn I loved that woman, it was the drugs of course, but still..... She had a brass bed. Bob Dylan, Lay Lady Lay. You'd a had to of been there.
Somewhere in the middle there I fucked another social worker or two. One was married to a fireman who worked long hours on and off. I drove out to their farm, had a sixpack, started making out. She had a shaved pussy--the first I'd encountered, whoaaaaa.....
All of a sudden I got spooked, paranoid, shaved pussy, husband. Premature ejaculation, apologies, I'm outta there. What the fuck, I'm thinking I can always go back. Never did. Avoided her.
But Tess, that was a lingering affair. Later, she visited me on the west coast for a couple of weeks, brought drugs, but it would have been....great even without the drugs. I think.
What did I learn from married women about marriage? Ahhhh, how easy it is to deceive the husband and significant others.
But other than that, not much I didn't learn from single women. (Except with Tess, of course)
And my father patiently explained to me when I asked him what those strange almost microscopic insects were crawling in my itchy crotch: "Crabs. You don't get them from a dirty toilet seat."