3 comments/ 23787 views/ 5 favorites Blood-Red Orchids By: rdmaddog May 9, 1962 It is my eighteenth birthday and I have just arrived at my cousin's place. There is an arrangement of blood-red orchids within a black ceramic vase on the glass topped coffee table in the living room. A very Oriental looking arrangement. I am babysitting for my cousin Dottie, in her apartment in Sacramento, California. Dottie is a twenty-two year old single mother and has a five year old little boy named Robbie. Babysitting is an easy gig as my cousin usually leaves around seven-thirty in the evening and doesn't come back until past two or sometimes not until early the next morning as the sun is rising. Robbie is usually asleep for the night by nine, no later than ten. Besides easy money, Dottie often loans me her car as part of the payment for babysitting services. It is very relaxing, reading a book and playing record albums through the night on Dottie's stereo. Dottie has an extensive collection of records from 30's Swing, 40's Big Bands, 50's Rhythm 'n' Blues, the beginning of 50's Rock up until the latest of the 60's Rock 'n' Roll hits. If it is recorded music, Dottie seems to have every long playing vinyl record album ever made. She has an extensive collection of 45 rpm single records, as well. As a bonus, my cousin has some very nice, very hot looking, girlfriends. The night of my birthday, Kim, my cousin's 'hottest' of all her friends, who I have met on at least a dozen prior occasions is already in Dottie's apartment. Sometimes the three of us will chat, when they get home from their 'dates,' into the wee hours of the morning. Kim is fixing herself up, getting ready to go out with Dottie on another one of their many double dates. Kim is only nineteen, looks sixteen, but has a perfectly faked driver's license I.D. that identifies her as a twenty-two year old U.S. citizen. She looks African-American but she is actually an immigrant from Cuba and still has a Spanish, or Cuban accent. She is as beautiful as Dorothy Dandridge, but Kim's skin tone is a deeper, a richer, black than Dorothy's mocha-like skin hue. I love talking to Kim almost as much as I love looking at her. She is gorgeous, funny, I think maybe even sensitive, and teases me incessantly. If she ever stops teasing me I think she will hurt my feelings. I am enamored with Dorothy Dandridge having seen her in the movie 'Carmen Jones.' A movie that I have seen a half dozen times by the time I was ten. Kim also looks and sounds like a black Latina, maybe a combination of Dorothy Dandridge - with a hint of Rita Moreno and Natalie Wood as they appeared in the roles they played in 'West Side Story.' I had first been captivated by Natalie in 'Rebel Without a Cause' when I was twelve My ardor for Natalie has not waned over the years. My current movie loves are in a five-way tie for my love and affection: Audrey, Dorothy, Natalie, Rita, and Nancy Kwan, an actress I had seen in 'The World of Suzie Wong' and, most recently, in Roger and Hammerstein's 'Flower Drum Song.' I want to travel to New York, Puerto Rico, Hollywood, and Hong Kong, when I get older to seek out women such as these. I always was a horny little boy with a vivid imagination. I am growing into a horny young man with an even more vivid imagination. But there is one actress that stands above the rest in my mind and heart: Ava. I love musicals. The first movie I ever saw, that I remember, was Kearn and Hammerstein's musical, 'Showboat.' I was seven years old and Ava Gardner made me cry in every one of her scenes. At seven I was in love with Ava Gardner. When I saw her in 'The Barefoot Contessa', I found out she had been staying at the 'Raffles Hotel' in Singapore. I had dreams about meeting Ava at the Raffles, having a drink with her at the bar, saving her by beating up Frank Sinatra, and taking Ava away to make passionate love to her in her hotel room. It is a very vivid dream that I play over in my mind even when awake. After I see Ava in Ernest Hemingway's, 'The Sun Also Rises' I read every Hemingway novel I can get my hands on. After I meet Kim, I decide I want to go to Havana and liberate Cuba from Castro and the Communists. I want to meet women like Kim while fighting for their freedom. Hopefully, Kim, my nation, and the Cuban women will be grateful for my efforts. Kim is wearing a long sleeved white blouse, the shirttails of which she has tied together at her midriff. She is wearing a tartan red mini-skirt that accentuates her legs. Kim's legs seem to go on forever. She is just over 6'tall when she is in high-heels and pretty close to my height when she is in her bare feet. I am 5'10" tall with, I hope another another inch or two of growth to go, in my dreams. I mean growth not in height but in length, if you get my drift. Thinking of Kim in her bare feet, or bare anything starts to get me aroused and I start wishing I was bigger 'down there' in length. Kim is putting on, a soft, deep red lipstick when I walk into the apartment and see her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She has a blood-red orchid in her hair. No doubt taken from the arrangement of red orchids on the table. She has highly polished red nails that match the color of the orchid. Underneath her blouse I can see that her under-bra is also this deep, kind of, blood red. I can see Kim's image from her hair, her face to her torso and hips. Her bare stomach muscles, belly-button, and the top of her hips between her tied blouse and belted skirt reflect in the mirror. I am almost desperate with my desire to see what cannot be seen below the belt-line of her skirt. Quite a vision. As Kim comes out of the bathroom, she greets me with a smile that makes my heart skip a beat and my knees go weak. 'Belafonte's Calypso' album is playing on the stereo and Kim is humming, dancing, swaying her hips, to the beat, to the rhythm of 'Brown Skinned Girl.' The lyrics of the song, about 'sailing away' refers to a Jamaican girl in the song having an American blue-eyed baby with an American sailor as the absentee father. My imagination is running wild thinking about Kim having my baby. I decide I am going to join the Navy. Having a baby with Kim would be great. I can imagine us out, hand-in-hand, shopping for baby clothes, a crib, a stroller, Gerber's baby food, and stuff like that. I didn't want to buy formula, I want to watch Kim breast feed. I am now eighteen, happy birthday to me, and very easily, sexually, excited by my imagination. With thoughts like that running rampant through my brain, to say that Kim makes me horny is an understatement. I can imagine that under her white blouse and red bra, Kim would have the most perfect breasts I can even imagine. Much nicer than Marilyn Monroe's or Bettie Paige's even. Imagining what it would be like making a baby with her is . . . I really like Kim and just looking at her, hearing her voice, smelling her perfume is very intoxicating to my senses. I often ask Kim for a sip of her drink so I can taste her lipstick on the rim of her glass or just brush against her hand . . . touch her hand when she shares her drink with me. This behavior of mine is pathetic, but I don't care. The effect of the words, the melody, and Calypso beat, Kim's beauty, the movement of her skirt caught between the 'no man's land' of her swaying hips and the hem of her short skirt where her thighs are moving and her legs begin or end, depending on your point of view, is mesmerizing. I see a brief vision of her sexy bikini-like blood red thong under-panties beneath her skirt as her hips sway to the music. Her long legs and beautiful feet keeping beat to the music, her hips swaying seductively lift up her short skirt. Seeing her dance makes my heart pound faster and my knees so weak they start to tremble. I can imagine that under her panties would be the most perfect . . . Well, the most perfect 'whatever' I can possibly imagine. My knees are literally shaking. I start to tremble, exactly like the Elvis Presley lyrics describe . . . I am 'All Shook Up.' I almost fall to the floor with a 'fit' of desire. "Oh my God!" I whisper, to myself, to her, "Kim you are the most sensuous woman on the planet." Kim stops humming, and asks me what I have just said. I lie with the truth and say, "You look nice tonight Kim." She says thank-you and asks me if I would like to dance. I am blatantly staring at her, practically drooling, body shaking, noticeably gawking at her movement, being partially aroused by the reality of her dancing and by the vividness of my imagination. I avert my gaze, gulp, and stammer a falsehood contrary to what I really want to say and blurt out, "No thanks Kim, I can't dance, thanks anyway. But, go ahead, you can keep dancing if you want. " A very lame response to her generous offer. Kim smiles and keeps dancing. I am very close to ejaculating when Dottie comes into the living room and says hello to me. She wishes me a happy birthday, gives me a couple of babysitting instructions, and says to Kim, "Let's go, it's already past eight." Evidently they are already late for their double date. Kim says, "Ron honey, I didn't know it's your birthday today. Your eighteenth birthday, I would have given you a special present if I had known sweetie, bye. Happy birthday, Ronnie. Love, ya!" They are out the door before I can change my mind and tell Kim, I would love to dance with her, just to touch her, shake hands, anything would be alright with me concerning her. Being able to just look at her for another moment would have been fantastic. I honestly think, I almost had an orgasm just watching her dance. Just like, 'Pow!' A spontaneous orgasm. Instead, I had mumbled, a ridiculous, "No thanks." I am kicking myself, missing the opportunity to at least touch her, just touch her. I am kicking myself for my being such a dummy. Then again, I think that if I had touched her I probably would have ejaculated. How dumb and embarrassing that would have been. Talk about a kick-ass moment. I give Robbie a snack, play a couple of games with him and put him to bed by nine-thirty. I go over to the record player and replay the Calypso album again, not being able to get Kim out of my feeble-lame-brain. How can she be so desirous? Kim makes the women in 'Playboy Magazine' seem plain. Well, maybe I am exaggerating. God, Kim is so beautiful, so lovely ... she makes me ... hot. I flip open May's 'Playboy' magazine and start looking at the centerfold. I am thinking about jerking off, but feel guilty about doing so in my cousin's apartment. I'm babysitting for 'Christ's sake.' I decide to suffer the pangs of just looking at the picture of a beautiful nude woman and leave my genitals alone. The song 'Man Smart, Woman Smarter,' is playing and Bellefonte is singing about 'woman' teaching 'man' a thing or two, when Kim comes back shortly before ten p.m. Evidently her date not working out. She tells me she has a headache, wants to take a couple of 'Bayer' aspirins and then is going to lay down on the couch and 'just crash.' She hands me twenty dollars, wishes me a happy birthday, hugs me, gives me a peck on the cheek and says she loves me. She says I can go home, she will watch Robbie. I say, "I love you too, Kim." Kim gives me a puzzled or 'funny' look and says, "You love me, do you." More like a sardonic statement than a question. I am flustered. Embarrassed a little. I inquire, "Go?" Kim says I can go or stay, whatever I want to do is alright with her. I am not that dumb. I tell her I want to stay. I am thinking to myself that I am the one that sleeps on that couch. Maybe tonight, Kim and I can sleep together. Seriously, I have already forgotten about making a baby with her. I am not thinking about sex. My adrenalin rush is about how exciting it will be laying next to her. Very stupid and very lame but, I swear, that is my thought process. I want to lay next to her and hold her in my arms. I want to touch her skin, her hair. I want to hear her tell me she loves me, and mean it. I want to take her on dates, go to the movies with her, walk hand-in-hand in the park, take her to dinner, then tell her I love her and I want her to marry me someday. Maybe I am that dumb. First, I am trying to figure out how I can approach this 'laying down on the couch' subject with her. Maybe if she were to lay down on the couch first I can pretend I am tired, just yawn, and ask her if she minds if I lay down next to her because I am exhausted and need to 'catch some shut-eye.' Maybe, just maybe, she will agree. The truth is I not only want to lay next to her and hold her in my arms, I need to hold her in my arms. I need someone to love me. I think maybe she needs someone to love her. A foolish thought. Everybody loves Kim. She is beautiful, smart, and desirable. I am just a semi-skinny, semi-smart, undesirable kid from the neighbor-hood. I am without a future. Dottie's stupid cousin, that flunked out of high school. Comparing Kim's possible need to my own need is idiotic. Maybe, just maybe, I am that dumb. A hopeless dreamer. Kim flips off her shoes, goes into the kitchen, takes an ice cold 'Pabst Blue Ribbon' beer out of the refrigerator, walks into the bathroom, where I see her reflection once again in the mirror as I had earlier in the evening. She is 'downing' some aspirin or some other kind of pills with the beer. I know she sometimes takes drugs. I admonished her once, telling her she shouldn't take drugs. She just smiled at me and said, "You are cute, usted es dulce como miel, Ron . . . don't worry about me, you should quit smoking, mi amor." As I am looking at Kim's reflection she pulls off her extra-long fake black eyelashes and her afro-wig. She takes some 'Ponds' cold cream and wipes all her make-up off. Then she vigorously washes her face. For some reason, she takes the orchid from her wig and pins it to her own natural hair. Then she reapplies her red lipstick. She is looking right back at me, in the reflection of the mirror, as she applies her lipstick. She is looking at me with her deep penetrating dark-brown eyes, those unreadable, imponderable penetrating eyes of hers. I am mesmerized, once again, for a moment, for the rest of my life. I avert my eyes, as before, ashamed of my thoughts, feeling I have been caught like a 'Peeping Tom.' I go over and quickly sit down on the couch and pretend to read an article in 'Playboy' with information on 'What Makes an Executive,' by J. P. Getty. This is to show Kim I am a sophisticated man of the world type. I am not interested in tawdry naked girly pictures. Or even 'Centerfolds.' Kim comes back in to the living room and plops down beside me. She sits very close to me. She brushes up against me and my burning desire to reach out and just touch her skin, or better yet grab her, hold her body next to mine. I am in, aching, physical pain sitting next to her like that. My 'adrenalin rush' is just that, I can feel my blood rushing hotly through my body. I tell her she looks better now than when she first came back into the apartment. "A left handed complement," she replies. "How nice of you." I respond, "No. That's not what I mean. I mean you are more natural, more beautiful without make-up." I say to her, "Kim, you have beautiful eyes." She jokingly asks, "You find just my eyes, are beautiful, Ron?" I stammer, my heart beating at the sound of her saying my name, and say, "No, no, no. You are the most beautiful girl, the prettiest woman, I have ever seen. Prettier than any movie star, even ... but, I really like your ... your eyes Kim. I mean I like, well ... everything." So much for my sophisticated man of the world ploy. She says, "Ron, you are too funny for words. Please, stop with the compliments, already." Kim hands me the bottle of beer so I can take a sip. I keep the 'Playboy' magazine in one hand and take the 'Pabst Blue Ribbon' in the other. I taste her lipstick on the spout of the bottle imagining what it would be like to kiss her. I take a swig of the beer and hand her back the bottle. I am actually smacking my lips like a complete dork. To hide my embarrassment at smacking my lips, I burp, and say, "That's some great beer." She responds, "That cheap crap?" She looks at me and says, "You're not very discerning about people or things, are you? You have very low expectations, sweetie." I protest. "I didn't say it was the best beer ever ... Kim. Give me a break." She smiles at my foolishness, closes her lovely brown eyes, lays back against the cushion of the couch, places the cold bottle of beer against one of her temples and rolls the bottle across her forehead to her other temple. She informs me that she is feeling somewhat better and asks me to take the bottle of beer and finish it. I take it from her hands, feel her warmth, as she keeps her eyes closed. I chug-a-lug down what is left of the beer and set the empty bottle down next to the display of orchids. With her eyes still closed, she asks me if I will put down that stupid magazine, stand up in front of her and massage her temples, neck, and shoulders to relieve her headache and the tension that has led to her headache in the first place. How did she know I am still holding the magazine if her eyes were closed? I she peeking? I yelp, "Sure." I put down the magazine trying to make sure that Kim sees I am reading J. Paul's article and not looking at Miss May's Centerfold, twenty year old Marya Carter. I had been staring at Marya's picture previously, for at least ten minutes, before Kim had arrived. This may be a fruitless endeavor, as it turns out, since Kim's eyes remain closed and my ploy of only reading 'Playboy' for the articles seemingly fails. Maybe Kim peeked. I quickly forget about the picture of Marya's two-dimensional body, my brain is now concentrating on Kim's three-dimensional one and what it is going to feel like to massage such a body. My hands start to tremble, matching my already trembling knees. I am really nervous. I want to sleep with Kim. The couch is so narrow we will be close to each other. Maybe we can hold each other all through the night. I did not want to ruin my chances by being real obvious getting on my knees and just beg and plead with her to sleep next to me. I have my pride. Kim, still with her eyes closed leans forward, unbuttons the top button on her blouse and pushes her blouse slightly off her shoulders. I stand up in front of Kim, standing between her legs. I place my hands on her shoulders. She sits up straighter and puts her hands on my hips causing me to stagger a wee-bit. It is like déjà vu, an older woman's touch having done this to me on two previous occasions. Then I remember that Kim is only one year older than I am. How could she be so Worldly and how could I be such a dork? Then I have a series of strange thoughts. I imagine I am kissing Kim's stomach. I imagine I am licking her feet. I imagine I am massaging her butt. Weird, I know, but that is what I am thinking. I really like Kim's stomach, feet, and what I can imagine her butt looks like. I like all her parts. But for some unknown reason I want to kiss her stomach, lick her feet, actually suck on her toes, and massage her butt. Then I want to taste ...I mean kiss, her lips. The same lips that left the lipstick on the spout of the beer bottle. Then I remember I am forgetting about her breasts. I want to hug her so I can feel her breast against my chest and feel her heart beating. Well, it wouldn't hurt if she allowed me to lick her breasts, maybe suck on her nipples a wee-bit. My tangled thoughts are sometimes just weird. I am feeling her tension, her muscles, her skin, as she lifts up her shoulders in a shrug and rotates her neck. I massage her shoulders for a minute before I put my hands up to her temples and with my fingers. Blood-Red Orchids I feel the tight curliness of her short black cropped hair moving through my fingers. Firmly, gently, I massage her temples as she sighs a deep sigh, her eyes remaining closed. I slide my hands down to her neck, then shoulders, and not being able to control myself, down underneath the back of her white collared blouse, down her shoulders then back. I can feel her taut muscles beneath her silky smooth black skin. The rich blackness of her flesh, the textural feel of her skin under my hands captivates me. It's as if I am coming under the spell of an enchantress. I can feel her muscles relax through the feeling in my fingertips and hands. With my hands already beneath her white blouse, I make the bold move of touching and gliding my fingertips over her blood-red bra strap to reach her mid-back. This move on my part makes me tremble even more and I start to feel warm. Suddenly, I feel a warmth enveloping my body. Kim is relaxing, she is smiling and kind of moving her body, her muscles with my touch. I feel her bra strap with my fingers as I gently massage her mid-back muscles. I try to reach a little further down her back, stepping closer to her so I can peer down at her breasts. I stare down at her cleavage, the swelling, showing above the lace of her blood-red bra. Kim opens her soft-brown shining eyes, catches my gaze, and looks up at my face, I quickly look up and peer into her eyes. Kim looks deeply into my blue eyes and with a mischievous smile, asks me, "Ron, honey . . . are you having fun yet?" She continues, "Are you enjoying yourself as much as I am?" I am unable to respond beyond a whispered "Yes, Kim ... Yes." Kim tells me her bra is tight and very uncomfortable. Just looking at the constraining device I can readily believe she is telling the truth about that. My estimate is she is a 34C, not overly large or that small, just perfect. I can't get my mind past my thought of sucking on her nipples. She asks me if I would mind helping her to unhook her bra strap and take her bra off. I start to blush. Would I mind? My heart skips a beat. She has to be kidding me. Would I mind? I don't think so, I wouldn't mind at all. However, in response, I nonchalantly say to her, "Sure, I don't mind. Ningún problema." Then I fake a yawn as if I am bored, a man of the world having done this unhooking bra business a thousand times before. Kim leans a little further forward, her head now resting against my stomach. My knees actually buckle. She holds on to my hips, propping me up with her hands and says, "Whoa Ron, are you alright, honey?" I don't know how to answer her so I remain silent except for my panting. I am visibly trembling as I reach back down under her blouse and after much fumbling unhook her red bra strap. Kim says, "Go ahead honey, keep going, sweetie, you can take it off." I clumsily pull her bra down off of her. My hands slightly brushing against the delicate warm swellings loosened by the removal of her bra. My eyes finally seeing the fullness of her ample bosoms, I was wrong she is at least a 36D as her tits spring forth in all their glory no longer constrained. Kim does have the most perfect breasts I could ever imagine. My imagination is more than fulfilled with the real beauty, the loveliness before me. I again, with all the power within me, nonchalantly, say, "Pardon me, Kim," as I take another peek and then reposition her blouse, covering her breasts more adequately. I am thinking to myself, not what a lucky fellow I am but, that I really am a dumb, dork-assed bastard. Why did I just do that? It is like I want to protect her, or something. Something stupid like that. As I reposition her blouse Kim raises her head up and moves her hands from my hips to my hands. She places each of my hands upon her breasts, under her blouse. I have never felt desire permeate, emanate through my hands in such a fashion before. Kim's thinking, evidently, is that the proper position for massaging away her headache should be with my hands on her tits. It is literally, getting harder and harder, in more ways than one, for me to act nonchalantly about the direction this bra removal adventure is taking. Then she asks the '$64,000 Dollar Question.' Kim smiles and asks me if I am still a virgin. I am stunned that she can think such a thing a monstrous thought. I answer by saying, " I refuse to answer that on the grounds it may incriminate me." Somehow, I think this answer is clever and will suffice. I am trying to concentrate on not getting a 'hard-on.' I am standing in front of this beautiful girl, talking about sex, holding her tits in my hands, so this is not going to be easy. I mean holding her breasts and not getting a 'hard on' is not going to be easy. Kim's thighs, knees, and legs are now pressing against my legs and her hands are back on my hips. The combination of these events are sending warm-chills up and down my body. I do not move my hands, not wanting to give her the chance to change her mind. I am in fear that if I lose my grip I will never be able to grip 'them' again. I did not move my legs or hips in fear that I will lose touch with the very warmth of her hands, knees, thighs, and legs pressing softly, firmly, against me. Kim asks again, "Ron honey, have you ever made love to a girl sweetie, are you still a 'vergine,' a virgin, il mio amore?" She is pressing on with her question, while her legs, or actually her thighs, are gripping my legs and her hands are on my hips. I am almost without words, without breath, I stammer and respond, "Quit teasing me Kim, you know a gentleman never tells." I never named names. There were no names to name. I try to laugh her inquiry 'off' and then, just kind of 'gulp' in the same way I had done when she asked me to dance earlier. I can't get off the thought that I have my unmoving hands on her tits for 'God's sake.' I take the chance and start to gently squeeze my hands, to show her I am not a virgin, not quite knowing the proper breast squeezing etiquette. I am acting like a complete moron with twitches. She asks me a third time, ¿"Miele, amore mio, la prefurgoneta di dirmi la verit à?" I know enough Spanish to decipher her question and decide to tell her the truth. I admit to her my inadequacy with a whisper, "Si." She has 'found me out.' I am still a virgin. An imbecile hiding behind a phony semi-tough exterior. It's like I am admitting that her 'tits' are being held by the hands of the most timid man, or boy, on the planet. This admission is very difficult for me to make. It shatters my image. But, for some reason I am unwilling to lie to Kim as I have lied to all my buddies and girls that I know. Lying about the subject of my virginity is my usual ploy. Well not exactly lie. No one ever asked me outright if I were a virgin or not. Everyone assumed I could not possibly be a virgin. I am very experienced in my wonderful persona. A regular 'Don Juan' in my own mind and my own lying words. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Kim then asks me, "Ron, . . . how would you like a birthday present?" I again stammer, still holding her breasts, not willing to let go, and sincerely say, "That's alright Kim, you don't have to give me a present." I am now massaging her breasts with some vigor. I know I am not doing anything right and if I died right then it would have been a merciful death. Not wanting to miss another opportunity, however, I ask Kim, "Can I kiss you? That would be the best birthday ... Kim, will you kiss me?" I know. I know. I am being a complete lame-brain but I am having difficulty concentrating on planning my next move. What move? I am showing my lack of coolness and I am, well, embarrassed is not the word - I am frightened. Kim is beautiful, beyond my commonness, and I have no right to even be in the same room with her, let alone be massaging her breasts. How can this beautiful woman fall in love with me? Kim brings my head down with her hands and kisses me. A sweet delicious kiss, her lips full of warmth. She even slips her tongue into my mouth, which gives me great pleasure. I have got to admit kissing Kim with her tongue in my mouth, while massaging her tits is a great birthday present. Kim takes her hands away from my face and as I raise my head back up, she places her hands back on my hips. Kim says, "What else? You just have to ask Ron, it's your birthday, ask and you shall receive." I am on a birthday binge, I have been waiting all evening for this moment, this opportunity, "Oh, then, Kim, can we sleep on the couch together tonight? I mean just sleep, you know, I promise you I won't try any funny stuff." If possible, while I am saying this I am thinking, what in the hell is wrong with me? I already have my hands on her 'tits.' Kim starts to giggle, then laugh, and exclaims, "Sleep! You want to sleep with me, sweetie?" Holding her breasts while she laughs is quite a thrill. She says, "My God, I don't know whether to be flattered or offended." I start to panic. I grip her breasts more tightly. She says, "Ok, por favor, ease up a bit, I am flattered, I'm flattered, don't squeeze my tits off." I tell her I am sorry and ask for her forgiveness. Kim says, "Well, honey, if sleeping with me, actually sleeping, is my present to you, what can you give me for a present?" I tell her I did not know it was her birthday too, and I can dance with her if she really wants me too. That will be my present. I tell her I am a good dancer and that I lied to her earlier. Kim is laughing so much, she takes her hands off my hips and grabs her stomach. "Damn." I lost my grip. She rolls around on the coach, and 'laughs her head off.' She has tears coming out of her eyes. I am so happy that she is happy, I stand there and laugh myself. I can take a joke, even if the joke is at my expense. Kim, stops laughing, sits back up on the coach, puts her hands back on my hips and says. "You know Ron, I really am flattered, thank-you." I smile and say, "OK, no offense, dancing is on or out, I'm a bit confused." And, to be polite, I add, "Your welcome." Kim responds, "Dance? ¿Baile? Ron, honey, its to late for dancing and to early for sleeping. I never fucked a virgin before, 'Voglio che dentro di me.' I want you inside me honey. I want to feel you inside of me, baby." My heart almost leaps out of my chest. I am almost breathless. My heart is racing and my knees are very weak. Finally, I get her subtle message. What she has been trying to tell me for the last twenty minutes. Her little, obscure hints finally break through to my brain. "Oh . . . OK." I agree. Who am I to argue? My favorite color is red . . . blood-red. I am extremely nervous, but very happy. I lean down to smell the orchid in Kim's hair. "Happy birthday to me." I hum. Kim asks me, "What? What did you say." I answer, "I am humming happy birthday to myself." Kim starts to giggle, then breaks out into a laugh. I love making her laugh. Hearing her laugh, seeing her laugh, feeling her laugh, is worth every moment. She unzips my pants and without further ceremony takes my already swollen cock out and gently kisses it. Then she slides her lips over the head and she suckles the tip with her tongue flicking around the ridge, that makes me actually cry out, it feels so good, I almost climax, instantly. I can actually feel my testicles contract and the sperm starting to rise up when she she suddenly swallows me up and I can feel her whole mouth on my shaft ... I am completely amazed. She sucks so hard on me, as I feel her moist mouth, her lips clasping me tightly, her tongue massaging me that I literally almost faint. cry out in pain, stagger, you name it, it was happening to me. I explode into her mouth with such force and with so much semen that it is even more amazing that she keeps sucking with such vigor, lapping up every last drop. She quickly stands up, takes me by the hand and and we go into Dottie's bedroom, she strips be down bare and I sit down on the bed. She pushes me back towards its center as she steps up on the bed straddling my legs. She says, "Ron, take my panties off, honey." I sit up, reach up and remove her red bikini-like under-panties. Right again. Under her panties is the most perfect, well, the most perfect vision I could have ever imagined. Much nicer in real life than in a magazine's centerfold. The vision of her standing over me nude except for her red tartan mini-dress is incredible. I am urgently stroking her legs, pressing my face and my lips against her legs, kissing and licking her inner thighs. She crouches further down as my mouth-lips-tongue find the center of her femininity. Kim stands above me, my darkish-blond brown hair entwined within her fingers, my blue eyes hot with desire caresses her body. Kim's very 'being' permeates my senses as my eyes see her beautiful powerful black darkness. I feel with my hands, my arms, my lips, my body the soft-firmness of her black perspiring skin. I feel her wet vagina opening with my pressing tongue. I slip my tongue inside of her, the soft black hair of her 'pussy' on my face, my mouth-lips-tongue tasting her sweet saltiness, a taste of her sweet moistness, as my tongue explores her soft pussy, the smell of her womanhood excites me as I hear her moans, each groan moving me to reach further into the deepest recesses within 'her being' with my tongue, probing ever deeper. She pushes me back, crouches down, straddling me, takes my erection within her right hand, crouches further down and guides my now very hard erection into her wet-warm anticipating 'pussy.' I enter her while I am looking into her eyes. Kim slowly lowers herself encompassing my erection completely within her moist warmth. "How does that feel, Ron, honey? How does that feel . . . ¿mi pequeño ... ah ... mi abeja grande? " Kim smiles. I tightly hug her. She pushes me down on my back. She asks me again, "How does that feel, Ron?" I answer, "Oh Kim you are so beautiful, you feel so wonderful, thank-you for your gift" I am almost whimpering from ecstasy, my eyes, looking at the vision above me with desire unquenchable. Kim lovingly says, "Honey, you really feel good inside me. How does it feel honey?" I answer, "Kim, it is the best feeling I have ever had, I'm sorry Kim, I think I am about ready to explode." She seems pleased. Kim places her left hand on my chest gliding her hand down to my stomach reaching down and touching the place where we are connected together. Her right hand reaches around and starts stroking my inner thighs, then she gently caresses my testicles. A two-handed massage of stimulation that almost causes me to climax. She says. "Try to wait, sweetie. Sólo más tres minutos." Kim then leans back and places her hands on my knees. I raise up to meet her vagina's grasp, wanting to empty myself completely within her welcoming embrace. I move my hands to her butt, as she leans foreword, again she has one hand massaging my testicles her other on my butt while I am holding her butt. She undulates on top of me, I pull my torso and head up as my lips find one of her breasts. I am in a reverie as my whole body seems to merge with Kim's body. Seeing the whiteness of my body merge with the darkness of her black skin, this touching of her breast with my mouth, the swelling hardness of her nipple, tasting her breast with my lips, her nipple with my tongue, feeling her wetness, her soft pulsating touch with my hard pulsating cock enveloped within the depths of her hot wet pussy, hearing her gasps, smelling her essence ... I slip my middle finger up into her tight ass, she reciprocates and as her slender middle finger enters my ass ... we explode in waves of orgasmic delight I never thought possible. Kim's hot wet pussy, her juices draining down the shaft of my cock, mingling with my sperm as she comes completely with me, in a perfect heated moment of passion clutching and contracting with my spurting cock is heaven on earth. I feel her wetness splurge forth as I explode deeply inside of her. Our spasms are together, in a perfect wet hot moist harmony ... our panting-gasping for breath, our emotional-physical outcries, and moans, our groans, Kim's whimpers excite me further as each deep thrust takes her breath away, makes her cry out as we climax together. I struggle barely able to whisper her name, "Please, Kim I love you." She whispers back to me, looking into my eyes and says, "Make love to me honey, make love to me Ron, love me Ronnie. Honey, love me." In Spanish she says, "Tengo que ser amado por usted." I stay inside of her, somehow, remain hard. I have another orgasm as she has multiple orgasms over the next hour. In a final burst of semen, I think I am completely drained. We are drained of all energy. I can feel her palpitating heart, can see and feel her body shudder, hear her softly crying, taste her tears with my lips. I release her hands and encircle her body with my arms, hold her as tightly as I can, not wanting her to ever leave me, to be with this 'Diosa de Amor,' to be deeply inside this woman forever. I want to be inside her heart forever. Kim pulls herself off of me, gets up, goes to the bathroom and comes back with a steamy hot wash cloth. She washes both of us with the same cloth. She gently washes me, caresses me with the warm cloth. She cleans her self off of my dripping sperm and her own wetness. She tosses the cloth aside, and lays back down on the white sheets now outlining the radiance of her beautiful black body. This beautiful vision of Africa, of Cuba, of womanhood, of passionate desire, laying almost silently before me. I can hear her breathing. Can I hear her heart pounding or is it my own heart I hear? I take in her form, her color, her loveliness with my eyes. I can see the movement of her stomach and breasts. I have to reach out and touch her. I touch her stomach. I put my hand on her stomach so I can feel the rising and falling of her breath and warm skin. Her lips slightly open, her eyes closed in a serenity only confused by the tears coming down from her eyes. I lean over and kiss her stomach, start licking her stomach, then I go down and lick her hips, I bury my face in her pussy, I lick the lips of her labia, I cannot get enough of her taste, her smell, her sweetness. I lick her thighs, kiss and lick her knees, lick her feet, suck on her toes. I pull myself up and kiss her forehead. I kiss her eyelids. I kiss away the tears on her cheeks, tasting her saltiness. I wonder why she is crying. I do not ask. I do not ask for I know why she is crying. I believe, at least, I believe I know of her pain. I pause and put, my head, my ear on her breast and listen to her heart beat. I smell her perspiration, the odor of womanliness emanating below me. I am now kissing her breasts, once more, her stomach, her hips, all over her body. I am hungry for her, I want to devour her essence with all my senses. I want to release her from pain and heartache. I want her to have everything in life. I stroke her body, massage her body with my hands and with my lips. She turns over on her stomach and I massage her neck, her shoulders, her back, her butt, her thighs, the calves of her legs, her ankles, her feet. Kim opens her eyes, elevates slightly up and says, surprising me, vehemence in her voice, "I fucked you Ron, now it's your turn to fuck me." Switching to Español, she says, "Jódame dulce, hágame el amor la miel. " I am instantly 'hard.' I mount her, entering her from behind with a want, a desire, undiminished in an emotional and physical need for Kim. My desire to hold a woman, to love a woman, meant by this most desirous of all women. She is kneeling, bracing her knees and elbows against the mattress allowing me to enter her from behind, my hands free to caress her breasts and back. I hold her hips pulling her towards me with each thrust as she pushes back. A very forceful way of making love as I push deeply inside of her wet vagina and she presses back against me. Blood-Red Orchids We make love in over a half a dozen different positions, climaxing, over and over again in the next few hours. She is patient and knows how to teach. She teaches me how to make love to a woman. She teaches me how to make love and to love. Kim shows me four of the 'perfumed garden' positions including the 'white tiger' position where I mount her from behind. Then she shows me 'the silkworm spinning a cocoon' position where, while laying on her back raises up to meet me spreading her thighs as her vagina opens as a flower opens it's petals for pollination. The depth of my penetration and the rubbing of my swollen cock against her clitoris causing her to have an orgasm within five minutes after I enter her. She shows me several Tao sexual positions, including a variation of the 'butterfly' position that I find out we performed earlier, when she was on top of me. She lays on top of me and as we outstretch our arms, hands together, this time, Kim places her feet on the top of mine and pushes against my feet as she moves up and down on me. She takes complete control by using this method and I am in an uncontrolled agony as she causes me to ejaculate once more within five minutes. We finish our 'sexcapades' with 'Kama's Wheel' where I sit with my legs outstretched. Kim lowers herself onto my legs and moves forward and my penis enters her as she extends her legs, sits on my lap, and nestles closely with me. We can hug each other in a tight embrace or lean back and look at each other. A very intimate embrace. This forms a kind of wheel where we can have very gentle sexual intercourse with little effort or very vigorous intercourse, whatever the woman desires as she is in the main position of control. Kim and I have an unparalleled awareness of each other as we are sitting facing each other in such a relaxing embrace, moving with each other as we look into each others eyes. I say to Kim, "I am no longer a virgin." She starts to giggle and responds, "Yes, I know, I was there when you lost your virginity." Kim giggling while I am inside of her is quite an experience. While in this embrace I whisper in Kim's ear, "Kim, I love you, will you marry me?" I say to her, "Kim, I want you to have my baby. I want to have a family with you. I don't care what anyone else might think. I don't care that you are a hooker or that you are black. I want to marry you." This remark of mine is not meant as an insult, or a double insult, and she takes it as a naïve compliment. I am young, equating sex with love, deeply in love with her, wise to the world of hate and judgment, not wise to how deep an effect this world has already had on her. She is kind and gentle and responds, in Español, "Ah, mi primera oferta de matrimonio." Then she says, "Ron, honey, I love you too." She makes me a promise. "Ron, sweetie, when you turn twenty-one and if you still want to marry me, I will marry you." I tell Kim I will get a fake I.D. that makes me twenty-one and we can get married right away. She starts to giggle once more, and then starts to laugh at my remarks. Giggling and laughing together in the 'Kama's Wheel' position is a wonderful experience,a wonderful way to share a laugh with someone you love. We get up and make the bed just in case Dottie comes back. We take a sheet out of the linen closet and go lay down on the coach. Laying next to Kim, holding her in the early morning, before dawn, sharing each others warmth and closeness, her gentleness, is the second greatest experience of my life. We talk, honestly, about our lives. We share our feelings. I thank her for giving me the most priceless birthday present, a gift to me more precious than gold. I tell her I am so happy that she was my first. She thanks me and says it was a first for her, her first virgin. She also said something strange that I did not question at the time. She said it was the first time she really ever made love to anyone. Strange coming from a person that has made love thousands of times before. My wish comes true. We fall asleep in each others arms. In the morning, Robbie awakes us. Dottie has not come back from her date. Not unusual for her. Kim fixes Robbie and I breakfast. I ask her if she will be my girlfriend. She says, "Sure honey I will always be your girl." She gives me a peck on the cheek and says goodbye. When she leaves that morning it is the last time I will ever see her. Kim moved to Reno, Nevada the day after we made love. I am heartbroken. Nevertheless, Kim gave me quite the birthday present. Dottie told me three months later that Kim had become pregnant and had an abortion in Reno. Dottie didn't know who got Kim pregnant because Kim had always had the 'John' use a condom to protect against STDs or an unwanted pregnancy. Dottie could not understand Kim's stupidity. She felt Kim knew better than to work without protection. She said someone must have gotten Kim drunk or 'high' or maybe the condom broke. Five months later, after my love lessons with Kim, I joined the Navy. I was in Boot Camp in San Diego on Christmas Day when I phoned Dottie to wish her a Merry Christmas. Dottie informed me of Kim's death. Kim died on Christmas Eve, of hypothermia, complicated by a drug overdose. She died outside in the snow-filled parking lot of the brand new Harrah's Hotel and Casino in Reno, Nevada. Kim died before her 'real' twentieth birthday. Quite the Christmas present. From my birthday in May until I left for boot camp in October, in just under five months, I had loving sex with another dozen women. Kim had opened up the floodgates of my heart, sexually. My desire for giving and receiving affection, for giving and receiving love, of sharing myself with a woman was insatiable. I love to be close to a woman. It isn't just the sex. It is the closeness of having an intimate relationship that is important to me. Well, I would be lying if I said that sex isn't right up there with closeness in the category of importance. In my heart, I know it was part illusion with Kim. I know our night was a 'one night stand.' But, I was still naïve. I wanted it to be more, for her sake. I wanted it to be more, for me. I was still an immature boy at eighteen and not yet a man. I knew of plenty of immature 'men.' I did not want to be like other men. Kim had been used and abused by other so-called men. If Kim had been willing to stay with me and be my girlfriend, she would have been the only girl, the only woman ever for me. I love making love to women. However, Kim is the one I remember with the most love and affection, with the most regret. She was my first. Illusion or not, Kim taught me the value of loving affection and of having a shared closeness. Two necessary elements in any sexual relationship. In any relationship. Showing a certain care and concern for your sexual partner is what she taught me so well, all in a single night. All in a one night's stand. From my first sexual relationship - one I was lucky enough to have first shared with Kim, to the last one I may ever have, the lessons she taught me, I will never forget. Other lessons Kim reinforced in me were not to judge anyone because of their skin color, their social status, or what may be perceived as lack of virtuous behavior. I have a special phrase I use for those who judge, I describe those that claim superior virtue over others as hypocrites practicing "the hypocrisy of the righteous." I will always deeply love the first woman I ever made love to ... my first ... Kim.