Smell ME - july 99
by: cait collins
foreplay:
dear readers, all I can say is
bang a gong! so, Smell ME baby!
it was the other night, at the Krazy Kat Lounge. I hadn't been there, in say, 18 years and when I walked in, the place looked the same: the same neon beer signs hanging on the same dingy paneled walls, the same jukebox almost gyratin' to some upbeat oldie tune in the same corner, the same empty stage, pinball machine, pool table, dart board and not only that, several of the same people I knew from high school days were there, feeling no pain; like permanent ornaments, their asses stuck and sunk into the same red padded vinyl swivel bar stools and Chuck, the same bartender stood in the same spot dryin' the inside of a wine glass, around and around, with a worn-out dish towel, gossiping about old lady whores and recent parking lot brawls, behind the counter with the same apron on; monogrammed with an insane black cat; staring back: broad, yellow fluorescent, quarter-moon'd eyes; it's fur standing on edge, it's back arched under the name of the establishment and except for the cats eyes, everything was faded and aged.
well, lately, I've been seein' a guy who's had a hard-on for me the past few years. I've known him for as long and I found him there, too. we did drinks for a while, talked, laughed, things like that and he told me he moved from his apartment and rents a room at a boarding house in the next town behind the Super K.
we left the bar, went to my van, on the side lot, got in back and I put the far bench seat into á la bed mode. we drank more, smoked some, laid back and watched a porno flick featuring oriental lesbians doin' that kind of stuff. the movie was hot, raw and it made us horny! he reached for the curtains next to him, closed them, then leaned over and got the ones on my side. he stayed there and pulled my t-top up to my neck, his mouth lickin' and blowin' below my right ear, a hand slidin' up and down my side and into the top of my pants. then he started doing the same things the lesbians were doin' to each others' tits, with his lips and tongue and I didn't stop him. his zipper area grew tight when I rubbed my hand along there…
it was in the middle of the morning, the moon brassy, bold and bright, the sky scattered with starlight. the bar emptied out and we heard people talkin' and walkin' past the van. one drunk stumbled against the side, mumblin', "….another shot, another…" and on, in profane and muffled ways. we decided to leave and go to his room.
we got there, walked in the front and some old man, he called Mr. PITA, (Pain In The Ass) the landlord, cracked his door, made some sorta sickening snortin' sound and watched us walk by. we started up the big dark staircase and when we moved up any step, they'd creak loud, like a door in a haunted house. he unlocked #10, the room on the left, near the end of the hall and we walked in.
the room was little, cluttered and stuff in there was cramped and close. the walls were decorated with drawings of attractive naked women; women by themselves playin' sex with themselves, women together doing the same things. some were framed, some were not and he pointed at them one by one and called out the names he gave them: 'Myra, Victoria, Ezra, Ophelia, Reva, Phoebe and so on, usually something related to what he read. he read a lot, which didn't seem odd but what did seem odd were these little clocks all over his place; not the kind you'd see hanging on a wall or sittin' in the middle of a mantle. they were the type that stuck-on. some were round, about the size of a half dollar; some rectangular, some with weird shapes and queer colors, including neon and if the sticky stuff on the back didn't make them stay in place, he used velco to make it work. there were a bunch of them, everywhere and on almost everything you looked at.
he walked into the kitchen area, filled the bowl, mixed us a jac n coke and on the way back he turned the stereo on low. I sat on the couch and lit the three-wick candle that was on the coffee table, stuck an incense
stick in the wax part and lit that too. he handed me the drink, sat down close with an arm around my shoulders, took a hit, placed the bowl to my lips and I took one; I held...and at the same time I exhaled, I asked him: "hey, what's with all the little clocks?"
"it's a fetish…" he said. "…nothing more, nothing less." and that was that. except it seemed like at the same time he unzipped, one of the little clocks buzzed like a timer going off and he whipped his cock out and began strokin' and tuggin' at himself.
"hey now!" I said, "I can take over, let me do that for you!" and he leaned back without saying a word, spread his legs, held my head in between and I took it like that with my mouth. but it wasn't long before another tiny clock 'dinged'. a 'tinny' sound, like a dull klink in an empty bean can. I didn't pay much attention but all of a sudden, he pulled me straight up, walked me backwards 'til I was up against the closest wall and he went down and did everything oral. my gawd, he was good at that!
then a whistle noise came from another one. like that, he changed to a different act: he turned me around, held my breasts, pressed close, rubbed his fat dick up and down the crack of my ass, circled across the cheeks, then up and down the crack again. jezus! then, like a 2 minute interval --- beep-beep,...we were into something else... I thought: what the hell!?
this was beginning to annoy the shit out of me:
"yo!" I said with a half laugh, "what the fuck kinda sex is this?" I looked into his eyes as he TRIED to mutter something. they were somewhere in a psychedelic paradise. christ, he was stoned, I was stoned and drunk but he kept at it, wherever we were and before I knew it, we were on the floor, fuckin' in a feverish fury. I couldn't concentrate, it became hilarious...I tried to hold back laugh spasms inside me, but I waited, expecting another clock to signal the next episode!?---
then it came...all at once---
CHIMES rang out! he pulled off, knelt overtop pullin', sweating' and strainin' that thing.
that was it! I burst into a roaring laughter! I told him to knock it off, but I don't think he heard me. he aimed toward my
face and like THAT: a bunch of those clocks went off with shrieks and high-pitched loud alarm sounds the same time he did. O MY GOD! HAHaahahhahHHAHa… I said it. maybe that's how he wanted it: I said it over and again with everything in me and all over me: O GOD!
HHAhahhaaa ---GONG! (I'm STILL laughing-sorry) and you know the rest of the story: snoOoore. good-god-damn-night!
XO…'til next time:
---sinSinly, cait
