Halloween and the Salon Stylist
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Pontiac Bonneville free porn video
The year was 1965. The country was still wounded by the assassination of John Kennedy, the Righteous Brothers crooned, “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling,” the 289 Mustang was a car phenomenon, and American boys were dying in Vietnam. I was about to complete year one of community college when I met Carla. She wasn’t the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but close enough. I thought she was gorgeous, certainly out of my league. Long, dark blond hair, blue eyes, a pleasant, albeit strained, face with lips that were neither thin nor full. She had a naturally tan complexion and a laugh that sounded like a choral ensemble. That is what first caught my attention. I watched her from across the restaurant. Five feet six, maybe seven, inches tall, well-groomed, with firm fair size breasts, a narrow waist, and a butt that could not have filled out her pants any better. Way out of my league.
I admired her from a distance and dismissed any thought that it might go further than that. I am about five-eleven, a hundred sixty pounds, brown hair, brown eyes, and an angular face with a bump where my nose was broke. Not what is called handsome. But I am usually easy going and fun. So when I literally ran into her at the restaurant register, I apologized, bade her go ahead of me.
When it was my turn, and I gave my bill and money to the cashier, she turned back and said, “I know you, don’t I? You’re Bill Markey’s friend?”
“Ah, old Bill,” I said. “Yeah, ah, I don’t know him.”
She looked confused then saw me smiling, and got my joke. I thought to myself “That was dumb, you had the perfect chance to meet her.” After chastising myself, I quickly said, “But I’ll look him up and shake his hand if that will make you smile again.”
She did. For whatever reason, she found my ruse charming and smiled.
“I guess I got it wrong, but I thought I remembered you and Bill at school,” she said.
We talked a little longer and I suggested we grab a coffee at the shop around the corner. Things just took off from there. I learned that she didn’t smile a lot. Our birthdates were only about a month apart. The dividing line for starting kindergarten fell at the end of my birth month, so I start school a year before she did. She lived with her dad, who was not around much. Her mother died when she was eight years old, leaving her to take care of her heartbroken father, that subsequently became an evening and weekend alcoholic. But he always kept food in the refrigerator and a roof over their heads. I could make her laugh, she had a wonderful melodic laugh, but she otherwise seemed sad. She dated often but never had a long term relationship. She planned to go to college to study psychology. She had a seven-year-old nephew that she absolutely adored.
I ended up two weeks later taking her to her senior prom. We danced, hung out with a few people she called friends, and actually had a good time. Afterward, the girls changed out of their gowns, and six of us got into my Pontiac Bonneville, we got a case of beer and drove out to a park by a neighboring town We built a bonfire and proceeded to get wasted partying until three in the morning. Carla and I were getting very familiar. A lot of kissing in a lot of available places. When I would give in to the passion and run my hands over her breasts she would take her time in stopping me, even held my hands on them for a moment, looking into my eyes, before pulling them away. There were moments when she would seem far away, uncertain. I would call her name and she would flash a smile and come back.
As we drove back to our town, we made a pitstop at a rest area. We got out and walked along this path away from the restrooms. I pulled her close, body to body and kissed her passionately. The passion was returned, our hands roaming over each other. Her tongue in my mouth felt like velvet, but alive, wet and moving. My hands found their way down her back. Found their way under the elastic waistband of her pants and panties. They found themselves hugging the soft, hot round globes of her ass. The intensity of out kissing along each other's neck, of tongues dipping into ears, and lips sucking earlobes, gave way to wet mouths pressed against one and other, tongues wrestling and exploring, seeking the new joy of each other.
Her pants and panties slipped down like they were sizes too big. I massaged her hot naked ass, rubbed a finger across her anus, while my other hand moved around to the light fur of her pussy, finding and separating her folds and entering her wet vagina with my two fingers. We were both panting, caught up in the delights of her body, chests tight, trying to feed our passion with oxygen, blood rushing in our heads driven by the lust and passion we shared. I dropped to my knees, pulled Carla’s wet pussy into my mouth, trying to push my tongue into her, inhaling her aroma, sucking her juice. Gasping, she pressed against the back of my head, forcing my face hard against her now thrusting pussy.
I wasn’t a virgin, but I had never experienced anything like this. My one hand left her ass and tried to get my own zipper down. I didn’t have a condom so I knew we couldn’t fuck, but I had to release the pressure of my cock bent by confinement. Knelling like I was the fabric of my pants would not let the zipper move. My fingers still moving inside her, my tongue and lips still licking and sucking, Carla began to convulse with orgasm. Her previous soft whimpers now poured from her throat in a long rolling groan as her legs shook and her pelvis jerked.
That was when the strangest thing happened. I suddenly realized why she was so often sad. I had the ill-timed epiphany that this is what all men wanted from her. They saw her body, saw her beauty and simply wanted to have it. They did not want “her,” they did not give her respect, they did not see her humanity or care who she was, they just wanted to fuck her.
I pulled my face, dripping with Carla’s juices, away from her pussy, removed my fingers and stood up. She fell against me, her legs weak and unstable. My cock softened and withdrew, leaving its own goo in my underwear. I held her while reaching down and pulling her panties up. Still leaning against me she finished placing them. I reach down to her ankles and pulled up her pants as soon as she could stand on her own. We stood there looking at each other. Her eyes were peering into mine, questioning, searching. I didn’t know what she was looking for. Had I guessed right? Did she need to be wanted for who she was, not just what she had? Was she disappointed that we didn’t fuck? I didn’t know.
We walked back to the car. I took her hand, hoping that it would reassure her.
We got in and became the subject of conversation for the remainder of the drive back home. Teasing from the back seat, guessing what we were doing, sexual comments, everything short of wolf whistles. We didn’t have a chance to talk on the way home, but I sensed she was either filled with doubt or too embarrassed and just wanted it to be over. I didn’t know what to say. There was one couple that hadn’t been dropped off yet when we got to Carla’s house. I walked her to the door. Under the porchlight, I could see her eyes were puffy. She had not been crying, not outwardly, but her eyes looked as though the dam was ready to burst.
“Can I see you again,” I asked hesitantly.
She turned her key in the door lock and looked back at me. “Please don’t tease. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”
I smiled, relieved. “How about tomorrow night. The Cincinnati Kid is on at the drive-in?
She looked at me, doubting, then said, “Yeah. I’d like that. Tomorrow.” She stepped forward and kissed me lightly on the lips, turned and went inside, closing the door. I stood there a minute, wondering what was happening on the other side of that door. Was she hurting? Did she feel good about tomorrow’s date? I had no answers, only the questions. I returned to the car and drove the other couple to their car.
No matter what path life would take me down, I knew I would never forget that night. I would never forget Carla.
o0o
We dated through the summer. Except for one date early on, with a girl that had great tits and no personality, I didn’t date anyone else. Carla seemed to be happy with me, her sadness diminished the more time we spent together. I tried to let her know how much I liked being with her. Respect. I wanted to give her respect. Kissing, holding each other and petting, but I did not push her to have sex. Occasionally I let my errant hand pass over her boob or across her ass. She would look at me, with a knowing smile, like I was a naughty boy.
One evening we went to the drive-in with another couple, Jim and Barb, who occupied the back seat. They were lovers and didn’t seem to be too bothered by our presence. Carla and I were in a fun mood. Only half watching the movie and tickling and teasing each other. She lay across the bench seat with her head on my lap while I dropped kernels of popcorn into her mouth. Giggling when I would miss, or drop a half-dozen at a time. Jim asked for some of the popcorn. As I turned to give it to him Barb sat forward, her naked breasts flopping over the seatback. They were a lovely surprise that Carla and I both stared at. Large round globes with reddish nipples that looked as though the had recently been sucked. After a moment Barb giggled and asked for the popcorn. I didn’t realize just how horny I was. I think that the back of Carla’s head detected the stirring of my cock. She kind of rocked her head a couple of times as if to verify what was happening. Then a teasing smile spread over her face and she rolling her head around intentionally maneuvering my cock around. It was heaven and hell.
“What are you doing,” I inquired?
She squealed with laughter, gave it a couple of more rubs and sat up, scooting away, just looking at me with that teasing smile. As she did, she saw into the backseat where Barb’s tongue was teasing the tip of Jim cock. I saw her watching, transfixed, so I turned to look. Barb’s mouth enveloped Jim shaft, sliding down as far as she could. I looked over a Carla, who was still watching. As she finally looked away, she looked at me as I was trying to adjust my swollen dick to a more comfortable position in my jeans. A devilish grin addressed her face.
It was one of those moments where each mind wrestled with “what-to-do.” It was that moment when I realized that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. Carla enjoyed the easy manner of the way we had been dating. She knew she didn’t have to worry that she’d be forced to do anything she didn’t want to do. She enjoyed the respect. But the naked sexual ministrations taking place in the backseat altered our tenuous sexual balance. Her devilish grin turned pensive.
On an impulse, I moved across the seat and hugged her. As I held her, my left hand slid up the back of her tee-shirt and quickly unhooked her bra. Lifting her shirt to get my hands underneath, I squeezed her firm boobs. Just as quickly, I let go and moved back to my end of the bench seat, smiling. She tried to feign being shocked.
“You grabbed my bare tits!” she yelled in mock astonishment.
Still smiling, I said, “Yes I did. And I just might do it again!”
Carla turned pensive again, I watched her weigh what we had against what we could have. Her teasing manner faded from her face, replaced by doubt. Then, almost immediately, the doubt gave way to her own desire and I saw a gentle peace take her.
Reluctant no longer, she pulled me close to her. Punctuated by slurping sounds from the back seat, she said, “Promises, promises,” and covered my mouth with hers.
I can’t tell you the sequence of everything that happened. Somewhere along the way her shirt and bra fell away, and my mouth took great delight in her naked breasts and cone-shaped nipples. Intense hands labored at my belt and zipper. My cock was freed, only to be captured the divinity of a warm, wet mouth. She took me in fully, to the back of her throat, then began a rhythmic sucking up and down on my shaft. Fingers danced around my balls, squeezing and fondling, as her magnificent tongue tenderly caressed the underside of my cock.
I confess, it took almost no time before I yelled, “I’m cumming.” Carla, my wonderful Carla, did not miss a beat, kept stroking me with her mouth while I climaxed and expelled into her throat. Her lips milked me as I shuttered and groaned in incredible pleasure. Cool air hit my moist dick as she withdrew, bringing her mouth, and a partial load of my semen, to my mouth, thus sharing the plunder of her labors. It was a new experience for me. To be served that esoteric treat by such lovely lips, I could but joyfully return her kiss. When she finished washing my tongue with my own semen, she sat back, her beautiful tits freely jiggling, smiled, almost giddy, and said, “I owned you that one.” It took a moment before I realized she was referring to our first sexual encounter almost two months ago. I would like to say I’m sorry about that, but I would be lying.”
“I’m not sorry either,” Carla said, a peaceful expression illuminating her face.
We suddenly became aware that Jim had been watching us, his grinning mug resting on the seatback. “Those are nice, “ he said, nodding ar Carla’s exposed tits.
Carla blushed only slightly, placed her open hand over his face and pushed him back, “Disappear, Jim,” she said, serious but kind. Jim chuckled as he dropped from view.
I was sitting slouched, just the way Carla left me, feeling my strength return. We looked at each other for several quiet moments. She nodded at my cock, still stiff, if not full-on hard. “Looks like you’re not yet satisfied.”
In appreciation, it bobbed. “Not sure. I need to test it out,” I quipped, meaning nothing specific.
Without hesitation, Carla pulled off her shorts, followed by her panties. She turned in her seat, propping her left leg up against the seatback. I had a full view of her fuzzy pussy. Light from the movie flashed through scenes, bathing her moist and swollen labia in a collage of changing colors. I sat up, transfixed on her nakedness playing out before me in multi-colored Cinemascope. I leaned over and kissing the inside of her propped up leg. Then kiss another spot, and another, working my way to her down-covered treasure. I couldn’t believe that I had done this before, that I had sucked on her clit and licked her folds before, and now I got to do it again. Her aroma evoked a tightening in my balls, my cock becoming painfully hard.
My lips encircled her nub, pulling it into my mouth, sucking. My tongue flicked its tiny tip repeatedly as I varied the intensity of sucking. She was soon moaning from that deep, visceral core. I kept it up, relentless sucking and flicking until she screamed and pushed me away, panting.
Breathless, she commanded, “Get over here,” pointing to the spot on the seat beside her. I un-slouched and scooted. She placed her mouth over mine, shifted and quickly straddled me. Breaking the kiss she moved her hips, the way only women can until my cock was poised at her entrance. Slowly she lowered herself down my shaft never taking her eye away from mine. We had not done this before. Yet it seemed like we fit so well together it was like we had been sculptured as one. Her hot, wet folds enveloped me, drew me in, her pink cone nipples dancing before my mouth. I took one into my mouth and lavished it with wet desire; sucking, tongue, and lips tasting and teasing. I had one hand on her other breast. I wet a finger of my free hand in her pussy juices, reaching around I slid it into her anus. She began moaning and riding my dick harder, then harder still. Nothing I had ever known felt this good.
Her legs started to shake and she convulsed as the orgasm flowed through her. Her vagina muscles contracted many times as her orgasm tore through her. The grip of those fabulous pulsing pussy muscles squeezing me hastened my orgasm. When copious amounts of pussy juice washed down between my legs, I came and came and came, while Carla was still going strong.
When our lust finally played out Carla collapsed against me, my cock still inside her. My semen drained from her and down the insides of my thighs. I held her, wanting to stay this way forever. Jim said, “You kids almost done? We want to go get something to eat. Carla got dressed and I pulled my pants up. We left the drive-in and found a restaurant. It wasn’t easy sharing the rest of the evening with Jim and Barb. They were fine, but Carla and I had just made love, for the first time really, and we wanted to bask in that shared glow.
When I got home that night, I found a letter on the table. It was from the Selective Service. I had been drafted.
I had to report for duty on September 14th, barely six weeks away. I told Carla, trying to put a happy spin on it – the Army will make a man out of me – absence makes the heart grow fonder – God, Country, and Rock n’ Roll. But her sadness returned. Just as she was starting to trust again, this happened. I had some money, so I rented a furnished apartment for six weeks. We almost lived there. Well, Carla did. Her dad didn’t realize she wasn’t home. I made appearances at home but only enough to keep Mom and Dad from worrying.
We fucked like rabbits. Watched movies on the black and white tv, and ate a ton of Swanson TV dinners. We were happy as we could be with the knowledge that it was going to end so soon.
The Army bought me a train ticket to Fort Knox, KY. The last days before I had to leave was wonderful and very hard. In the end, I gave Carla the Bonneville to keep for me, thinking that it would keep us connected. I saw her again when I came home on leave before I went to Vietnam.
The next time I saw her was twenty-four years later. She owned a Bed and Breakfast at which I had booked a room for a week. I was attending my daughter's wedding. When I signed in with the clerk, I heard that melodic laugh that I had heard so many years before. I asked the clerk who that was. The young man said, “Oh, that’s Miss McGuire.”
“Ask her to come out here please.”
“Sure thing,” he responded. “Carla, can you come here?”
At the sound of her name, my heart jumped up to my throat.
She walked in, elegantly dressed and with a poise that belied her forty-some years. In that moment of recognition, all the years washed away.
She didn’t stop staring at me. “Allen,” she said to the clerk, “Set up a table for two out on the veranda. Start a pot of coffee.”
Young Allen sensed something way beyond his measure, “Yes, ma'am right away.”
Six months later we were married. We drove off on our honeymoon in the Bonneville, memories fully intact.
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