Connectictut: Part Two

Warning: explicit content.

For the entire story, click the Connecticut topic at the end of this post, in the sidebar to your right, or just click here.

Connecticut had a big break-up fight with Lynda right before he went back to visit his wealthy family for Christmas.  From the day room we all heard him arguing with her on the phone and after the call he came in to brag about it.  He broke up with her, he told us with a smile, so that he wouldn't have to buy her a present.  And he confidently assured everyone that once he was back she'd fly back into his arms even though he'd be having sex with his high school girlfriend the whole time he was back in lily-white gangland.  It was the perfect solution, he pronounced.

Pete shook his head and said, “You're a fool, Connecticut.  That girl is going to be doing the nasty with someone here while you're gone.”

“She'll be too sad for that.”

He left the next day.  That night I got a call.

Lynda wanted to know if he'd really left and why he was such an asshole.  We talked on the floor phone for almost an hour until I had to get off because other guys needed to use it.  Being the great roommate I was, I told her everything that Connecticut had told us after the break-up call, including the part about her leaping back into his arms and forgiving him.  She wasn't as sad as she was angry. 

Friday came that week and for those of us without the plane tickets or the vacation time to fly out to visit families, we went out for fishbowls.  There was a bar/bowling alley in the town that specialized in drinks called fishbowls – cocktails made with too many kinds of clear alcohol, too much fruit and never enough straws.  The whole table would share the single bowl with long straws and everyone would get trashed.  Since it was one of the only real option for a group of G.I.'s who weren't yet drinking age because they didn't card we were often found there.   

And that's where Lynda and her friends found us.  The party was on and I have to say that even to this day I remember how much fun that evening was.  We played trivia on the big screen with portable answer modules, we drank a lot, played other video games, drank a lot, and shot pool against the local boys, taking them for enough money to pay for our drinking a lot.

Lynda seemed to be enjoying herself too much as well and not missing Connecticut nearly as much as he'd predicted.  She sat in my lap and shared the trivia controller.  Then she sat in Pete's lap and drank from the fishbowl for a while.  Her friends were pretty and friendly and we laughed entirely too much.

But as the night came to an end, it was obvious that none of us were sober enough to drive home.  So when the offer to crash at Lynda's came, Pete and I accepted while the other guys made arrangements with the other girls.  Then we were out to the cabs and back to her small apartment. 

I slept on the couch, Pete on the recliner because he was too tall to fit into the couch.  Nothing happened with Lynda.  The next morning we cleaned up, took her out for breakfast and walked back to find my car.

Back at the barracks I got another phone call.  This time it was Connecticut and he was mad at me.  “I heard you've been making moves on my girl,” he screamed through the receiver. 

“Not a chance, Connecticut.  That girl's all broken up about you.  She couldn't stop talking about you all night and we just crashed over at her place because we were too drunk to drive back to base.”  That excuse was a solid one because no one wants to drive through the checkpoint smelling like booze. There's no surer way to end up demoted and in jail.

Christmas Eve Lynda called again.  She wanted to know what Pete and I were doing.  Pete had been invited to his supervisor's place, but I had nothing going on and in fact I'd only been planning to study for some correspondence classes I was taking.  Even then I was motivated to get my degree. 

Lynda's mother was an alcoholic and had already passed out and Lynda didn't feel like caring for her on Christmas Eve.  Her friends were all busy.  Would I like to see a movie or something?  Of course I accepted.  I was dressed and off base in a flash, stopping by a jewelry store on the way to buy her a silver charm bracelet which I gave her when I got to the house. She smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

We didn't find a movie we wanted to see and there wasn't much else going on, so we went back to her house to watch some bad television. She got comfortable in a pair of loose-fitting overalls over a cut-off shirt which highlighted her large breasts.  She was short and as I recall she had long straight brown hair that almost reached her perfectly shaped ass.  Her eyes were deep brown and her lips were full.

She kissed me first but that was all it took and soon my hand was in her shirt and the other was twist-popping off the bra.  Clothes dropped as we made our way to the bedroom where she laid back and guided me into her.  I wasn't a virgin, but all my encounters before had been with reluctant girls who were trying to decide whether they should or shouldn't, a stop and start method of foreplay more suited to learning how to drive a car with a clutch than having a sexual encounter.  Lynda had decided and she was ready, moaning in my ear and crying out as she came.  I tried to pull out when I was ready, but she held me into her and I came deep inside her.  Afterward she told me not to worry, that she was on the pill.

She found her shirt and overalls and put them back on and I retrieved my clothes as well.  I thought it was time for me to leave, but she reached around me with both hands and held me from behind.  “Would you stay the night?” she asked.

Being young and stupid I answered, “Are you sure?” 

She hung up all my clothes except my underwear which I put on and then I laid down beside her in her bed. I felt odd that I was almost completely undressed while she was back to wearing what we'd started with.

The second time was me.  I got hard lying in bed next to a sexy woman and I let my hands roam slowly over her entire body.  Soon she was aroused and I undressed her once again.  This time we started with her on top of me and she showed me what slow and steady can do for lovemaking, bringing me close to the edge and then back down again, rhythmically controlling her climaxes and mine.  This went on long enough for us both to be sweaty and smelling like sex.

Afterward, she again put on her bra, shirt and overalls.  I assured her that her body was beautiful and that having her next to me naked was preferable, but she insisted.

The next time was me waking up to her hand on me.  I'd fallen asleep, but she hadn't.  We had sex again and after she dressed and we laid down on the bed.

In the morning I had a shower and she joined me under the water for another round before I dressed and drove back to the base. 

Of course I told Pete what had happened.  Of course he said there would be trouble.  And, of course when the phone rang, Pete answered it, “Barracks Four."

"No, he's not in."

"I don't know what the fuck is going on Connecticut.  I haven't seen him."

"If you think he's fucking your girlfriend, you're crazy.  When you left here you were bragging about not having a girlfriend.”

- rick, trouble brewing.

Comments

[Cherise]

Holy Shite! This was a steamy morning cuppa, nice. *fans self* ;)

[Cynthia Bagley]

Umm.. barracks living. It brings back memories.

[Tim Mulcahy]

Rick doing personal erotica. Very nice.

[a rose is a rose]

ah the good ol' days when one COULD go for it THREE times!

[C. L. Hanson]

Wow, quite an erotic adventure!!! I can't wait to find out what happens next -- I assume that since you lived to tell the tale, his revenge can't have been too bad...

Is that an actual photo of the girl, or a re-enactment? ;)

[Sister Mary Lisa]

I'm lovin' the story so far, Rick. I want more.

[Cherise]

BTW, I think Blog 'Porn' should be something we see more often. :)

[Graeme]

Nice dude. Nice.

[mark]

bwbow-chicka-bwbowow-wow...

[CV Rick]

C.L., It's a google image search result. But surprisingly close to what she looked like.

Apparently blog porn is popular . . .at least by the hit count for yesterday, I'd say.

There are at least a couple more episodes in this story. Connecticut wasn't a very understanding guy.

[Amy]

Okay, Rick. I've held my tongue. But that entry compels me to say this:

Your blog has been utterly intriguing and entrancing, but it's time for its readers to stop being selfish and let you go long enough to write a full-length novel. You owe it to the world. And you owe it to yourself. You can really write, boy. You're the real thing. Blogs are like smoking crack -- you get immediate satisfaction and feedback. Writing a novel is like being sober. Doesn't feel as good in the short-term, but the benefits will be beyond your wildest dreams. And ours.

[mark]

Amy, Rick DOES write, I've read several of his sort stories and they rock.

[Amy]

Dang, Mark! I didn't know that. I want to read some.

Also I take back my comment about blogging -- I'd just be depriving myself if Rick stopped. His blog is one of the highlights of my "virtual" week, truth be told.

[Amy]

Also, how would I know what it feels like to write a novel? No more posting comments after a martini!

[Sideon]

My favorite:

"I wasn't a virgin, but all my encounters before had been with reluctant girls who were trying to decide whether they should or shouldn't, a stop and start method of foreplay more suited to learning how to drive a car with a clutch than having a sexual encounter."

I beg to differ with Amy - blogs aren't instantly gratifying. It takes a hellofa lot of energy to "put out." In CV's case, he's upped the ante in terms of what blogging and writing are about, but I'd be fearful of a novel, because I'd want to dive into the book and not come up for air.

[Sugar]

I totally agree with Sideon, that was the best line.

However, I would highly doubt that she actually came that fast. She probably enjoyed it greatly...and made it seem like she reached her peak.
Just saying.

[Sugar]

Oh - yeah - and three times is still not a problem. The only problem is finding the time these days.