Dexterous Dexter 02

Author's note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, containing accounts of his life. I have adapted and edited these notes and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.

His younger friend Dex told the following tales to Ron. These stories stand alone from the RON'S JOURNAL series. I highly recommend that you read the previous chapter before starting on this piece.

CONTINUING THE ACCOUNT of Dexter and his senior-class cohort of Mentally Gifted Minor program (MGM) kids at Piedmont High School and the environs of sluburbian Los Angeles, rolling through 1971 and 1972.

___

Alma-Li walked into my Grandpa's farm equipment shop just as I was finishing a stint there. Her Chinese grandmother's nearby farm supplied fresh produce for her family's restaurants. Almy put in her hours with the family enterprises.

"Hi Dex. My Gramma was going to take me home but she got an emergency call. Can you give me a ride to town?"

"Sure thing, Almy. Hang on a moment, I'm almost done here."

I locked-down the transaction journals and grabbed my stuff. We walked over to my motorbike and hopped on. Remember, this is 1971, before safety devices and mandatory helmets and all that wimp shit. Our only concessions to safety were goggles, to avoid getting bugs in our eyes.

Almy tapped my shoulder before I stomped the starter crank.

"If you're not in a hurry, Dex, why don't we take a spin up Diamond Canyon Road?"

Diamond Canyon cut into the rough hills leading down to the coast. An aerospace company had a site out there for ground-testing rocket engines. We could hear occasional roaring echoes in the wind.

Alma-Li was a half-foot shorter than my 6'3", with long black hair framing a long head, almond eyes, a brilliant smile. Her hard-working body was gorgeous, with round breasts and butt separated by a narrow waist, supported by delectable legs. She had transferred into Piedmont too recently for the Mentally Gifted Minor (MGM) program, but she was very smart. With her great looks and personality, being president and champion of the Chess Club was *not* social suicide. We shared a couple classes this year.

Her great tits pressed into my back as we rolled into the twisty Eucalyptus- and Valley Oak-lined canyon lane. No rush, just feeling vibrations, and a little breeze, and her hands rubbing my chest and belly. She nudged me as we approached a dirt road heading above the trees.

We stopped at a flat spot covered with soft field grasses, a vantage point looking down the canyon and across the valley beyond. I spread the blanket I always keep on my bike, just in case. We sat.

Almy pulled a thermos from her pack. "Thirsty?"

We sipped the iced honey-jasmine tea. We looked across the big valley, with farmland nearby and suburbs on the far side below imposing mountains. The lowering sun threw everything into high relief. I pulled my bamboo sax from my bag and played BLUE SKIES. She leaned her head on my shoulder, arm around my waist.

"I grew up in L.A. and you grew up here and these places are close and tied together but so different, Dex. Do you ever have a fantasy of growing up somewhere totally other?"

"Yeah, I sometimes think about growing up at a beach, Rio de Janeiro or San Diego maybe, or some really rad place like San Francisco or Acapulco or Singapore. But then my life would be totally different and I wouldn't be who I am. I kinda like who I am, and where I am. How about you, Almy? Where's your fantasy?"

"Oh, I think about other places, maybe not even on this planet. What would it be like to grow up on a colony starship? But right here, right now, this very spot and instant, feels just about perfect to me."

"Hmmm, Almy, what do you think about incest?"

"What? Incest? Are you serious? I haven't really thought about it. I guess incest would be OK if they're all adults, and know what they're doing, and they really care about each other."

"So you're all right with incest then? OK Almy, will you be my sister?"

I smiled innocently. She punched my shoulder.

"You pervert! Just for that, you have to use only your teeth to get my clothes off me!"

Getting her shoes off was the hard part. Everything else was easy. She had the same problem with me.

We held each other and sucked face for a while, then applied our mouths to other body parts, and then we were 69'ing. I love mutual oral-genital. Cock-in-cunt fucking is great, and necessary. But 69'ing to me is just the most intimate act of love between two people, each partner totally vulnerable to the other, all our senses totally engaged, and the sharing is complete. This sharing makes love complete.

My tongue discovered every square centimeter of her pussy, circling her inner and outer lips, probing and caressing her vagina, teasing and tweaking her clit. I thrust fingers into her and felt her groan on my cock. She inhaled my stiff rod further into the dark mystery of her throat and gargled my little head.

We each came more than once before the sky darkened. We dressed, got on my bike, and I took her home. She climbed off in the driveway and hugged and kissed me briefly.

"Des, if I'm your sister now, does that mean we can't get married?"

"Well, we could always move to Arkansas, up in the Ozarks. But if a couple in Arkansas divorces, are they still brother and sister?"

Alma-Li punched my shoulder again and said, "You really are a pervert. See ya tomorrow, perv-boy."

I would have to ask Wendy to invite Almy to a hot-tub party. She would be fun.

___

Meanwhile, Wendy and I had the Miss Tompkins problem at Piedmont High to work on. We had a plan. At lunch, I sidled up to my friend Stefan, the unicycle-riding basketball jock.

"Hey Stef, what do you knew about Simmons?"

"He's a total fucktard, why?"

"Is there a chance you could maybe get him loose and talk to him awhile, not necessarily by yourself, but when your teams get together or whatever?"

"Well shit, sometimes I can't avoid the moron. Again, why?"

"'Cause he's done serious wrong to Wendy and me. We have a plan to bring him down. But we need a little help. Your help."

"What kinda help? You don't want me to kiss him or anything, right?"

"Ha! Shit no, nothing like that. Just get him talking, while you have a little tape recorder in your pocket, and with a little directional mike aimed at him, very unobtrusive. Maybe if you're sitting around drinking beer, playing cards, that kind of stuff. We just need good samples of his recorded voice, especially anything he says about dick and fucking."

"Hmmm, sounds like you guys have something going there. How did he fuck with you?"

"He's trying to rat-out our sex parties so we'll lose our scholarships, that's what."

"Motherfucker! Sure, count me in. I'll do whatever it takes to burn his nasty ass."

"Great! Come by my place after school, OK? I'll get you set up."

That took care of step 1 of the plan. Step 2 was up to me. No problem. I just needed to photograph Simmons from various angles and distances in various lights.

A couple days later, I had all the tapes and shots I needed. Now on to steps 3 and 4 of the plan: mixing the pictures, and the sound. I carefully doctored images till I had great-looking pix of Simmons' head atop other but similar naked bodies, showing him taking various cocks in his mouth and ass, et cetera. I xeroxed the composites to eliminate telltale traces of photomanipulation, then made glossy prints, and voila! Visual proof of his deviance.

Sound was a bit trickier. I had to play a bit with reverb and equalization to get it right. I dubbed words and phonemes of his speech together, building a self-incriminating montage. The faux Simmons bragged that he had lied about his accusations, that he was jealous because I wouldn't fuck him, that he was gonna burn Wendy and me to the ground, and so on. I dubbed the montage to audiocassette through a tinny little speaker, again to remove telltale traces.

Now for step 5, the end. I wrote a note: "Simmons bragged about this jive game he was playing. Here is the truth." I mailed the note, photos, and tape to Miss Tompkins' office, in a big envelope marked TO BE OPENED BY ADDRESSEE ONLY.

Wendy and I waited a couple days, then made a middle-of-the-night return to the Assistant Principal's office with lockpicks and red-bulb penlights. We checked our file folders -- we were clean! We checked Simmon's folder. It had grown fatter with the cassette inside. Cowabunga, motherfucker. We checked the other MGM kids' folders and found nothing defamatory. We left happy.

Wendy and I were summoned back to Miss Tompkins' office the next day.

"Mister Garson, Miss Reynolds, I owe you both an apology. The reports and rumors passed to me have proved false. I won't mention you to scholarship committees. But I must warn you: Make sure that these rumors *remain* false. Behave yourselves, and you'll do well. You may go now."

Yes, that worked out just right. And we still had our photos of Miss Tompkins' sexplay at Wendy's folks' hot-tub orgies, just in case. After graduation, Wendy and I managed to get Miss Diana Tompkins PhD into the hot-tub room with us and a few of our friends. I might tell that story later.

___

For her next hot-tub party, Wendy invited Alma-Li and Lindsay and me, and Doreen and her stepbrother Kirk. Blond beauty Doreen was medium everywhere except her magnificent breasts and legs and her glorious face and mind. She playfully edited the student newspaper. Kirk, no blood relation, was shorter, darker, intense, and headed for CalTech after graduation. Their fuckbuddy relationship was a loosely kept secret.

Juliana, the housekeeper-chaperone's hot daughter, uncharacteristically invited herself to join us, bringing our census to two guys and five girls. Yummy. Juliana attacked us with frightening ferocity. She demanded constant attention, with alternating cocks in her pussy and a sequence of cunts on her face, leaving the unoccupied to fend for themselves.

Juliana was noisily occupied with Kirk and Lindsay on the deck, the girls 69'ing and Kirk pistoning into Juliana's ass. Kirk had great endurance; I heard many female screams of ecstasy before he bellowed. He also appeared to have a fast recovery, because they all continued groaning and grunting for some time.

Almond-eyed Alma-Li and I sat side-by-side at the tub's edge, feet dangling in the warm water, with sexy brunette Wendy beside her, and gorgeous dirty-blond Doreen between my legs in the tub. Doreen gently blew me, no rush, just a long slow lick-suck-fest, repeatedly bringing me to the edge of orgasm, then backing off. So tantalizing and frustrating!

Wendy and I alternated kissing and fingering Almy's face and neck and breasts, combing her long black hair away from our lips. Our fingers stroked and probed Almy's juicy labia and vagina and clit. We twiddled our forefingers inside Alma's wet and willing cunt. She writhed. I thumbed her clit. She squealed.

Almy lay back on the deck, legs still dangling. Wendy slipped into the water between Almy's knees and kissed her thighs, her mons, her pussy. Wendy and Doreen gripped hands as their tongues worked their targets. Almy came once, twice, and again, loudly, shaking like an epileptic, crying like a lost soul.

Wendy crawled up Almy's body, kissing her thighs and belly, slurping her navel, then up to her breasts, slow and wet. Wendy pulled herself out of the tub, sat on Almy's belly, held her breasts, bent over and kissed her mouth, then straddled Almy's face and lowered her pussy onto Almy's waiting lips and tongue. Almy reached up to Wendy's tits. Wendy moaned, wobbled, hummed.

Doreen was still slow-blowing me. She was maddening! So close, but never quite there! Still riding Almy's mouth, Wendy leaned in and kissed my face and tweaked my nipples. She pinched my nubs too hard when she came. This triggered my own massive climax. Finally! My balls seemed to pump out gallons of jiz, trying to drown or at least inflate Doreen. Doreen's mouth overflowed. Serves her right, the tease!

Juliana forced Kirk and Lindsay away from her body and grabbed Doreen and me. She straddled Doreen's head and bent forward to vacuum my cock down her throat. I hardened rather quickly. She spit me out, slid down Doreen's body, nestled between her legs and started eating, her butt poised invitingly, demandingly.

I took the hint. I got on my knees behind Juliana, slid my horny piston into her dark gaping pussy, and pounded. My recent semen depletion gave me great endurance also. I just kept going and going. The girls just kept cumming and cumming. My knees were wearing out, but there was no fucking way I would stop!

When I finally cried out and came, Juliana climaxed as well, her cunt muscles grasping my cock and nearly ripping it loose. Ouch.

I looked over to see happy Alma-Li riding cowgirl on Kirk as he kissed her delicious breasts, and lovely Lindsay atop Wendy in their familiar 69, noshing comfortably. They all emitted sounds of pure joy.

The sights, and Juliana's fiercely clenching cunt, stiffened me again. I pulled out of Juliana, rolled her onto her back, and re-inserted my cock without haste. Juliana pulled Doreen into position on her face. I angled forward and kissed Doreen, her arms around my neck. I alternated fondling Juliana's and Doreen's luscious boobs. We all vibrated in a twin-missionary triangle.

We had further excitement that evening. See the film for details.

I should mention that while in the darkroom processing and printing a night's film, I play the audio cassette and listen to the sounds of the action. If Wendy or someone else is in there with me, stripped down, then so much the better! Sound really enhances the process.

___

Black-haired Alma-Li and blondish Doreen were in our inner circle now, regulars with me and brunette Wendy. We four got on splendidly, although Wendy and I had to keep our secrets between us. We jogged together on hillside park trails. We started going on short excursions together. We piled sloppily into Wendy's mom's Mustang convertible and drove to beaches, mountains, downtowns, concerts, wherever.

We all talked our families into cutting us loose for a long Thanksgiving weekend. We would go camping on the desert!

School emptied at noon Wednesday. We loaded our gear into the open Mustang. Its little trunk was not capacious enough for everything, so we piled stuffed duffels between the front and back seats, eliminating rear legroom. Wendy drove. Almy took the passenger seat. I sat crossways in back, leaning against the driver-side door, with Doreen pressing against my chest, nestled between my legs.

That is how we started out, anyway. Once on the road, we in back quickly moved into sexual positions. Almy or Doreen might curl up and merrily blow me, or cowgirl-ride me, or force me down and sit on my happy face. Almy started with this last. Doreen said, "Wait a moment," reclined her seat and twisted around, and blew me while my tongue prodded Almy's tasty lips and depths. Wendy had to maneuver carefully to avoid giving thrilling shows to truck drivers and bus passengers. We should have sold tickets.

We took a spin on a deserted loop road while Doreen and I 69'd, our calves and feet hanging out over the car sides. Pretty funny, huh? We should have filmed that. (We did so later.)

The freeway took us into Whitewater Pass, the two-mile-deep cut in the Coast Ranges that separate the high and low interior deserts from the coastal urban flatlands. Winds are fierce in the pass. A car left overnight at the east end can have all its paint sandblasted off, its window glass frosted.

We stopped at Cabazon to play around the giant dinosaurs beside the freeway. Wendy got some relief -- the gift shop inside the brontosaurus was empty, so I bent her over the counter and pleasantly pounded her. Doreen photographed us while Alma-Li stood watch at the shop entrance. It was a good day for a dino-fuck.

We had to decide on a route from there, to choose between two favored destinations. High desert or low? The high road would take us past Twentynine Palms to Music Valley. The low road led to Culp Valley, west of the Salton Sea. Doreen flipped a quarter. Heads! On to Music Valley, then.

We stopped in Yucca Valley for tacos and sodas and groping. We drove by the geodesic-dome Orgasmatron in Joshua Tree. We stopped in Twentynine Palms for fuel, water, firewood and last-minute supplies. We drove up into the bleak Pinto Mountains on the unmarked gravel road to magical Music Valley in mid-afternoon.

When I was younger, Dad drove our family all over Southern California on weekends. We came this way every few weeks, to the Wonderland of Rocks and Joshua Mountain and some awesome ultra-flat dry lakes... and Music Valley. This is back-of-my-hand country -- I have rock-hopped over and through it many times.

Music Valley is a long steep narrow cut in the dry Pinto Mountains. Its washes are lined with royal desert almond and catalpa trees. A Pacific hurricane sweping up the coast a few weeks before had dumped a load of rain. Those trees, and the desert wildflowers, were in full bloom now, as if it were springtime. Floral carpets covered the hillsides with red, blue, yellow. The display was just absolutely fucking gorgeous.

We bumped slowly along the moderately rough road to my favorite site in the upper canyon, a secluded flat area with a great vantage over the hills and lower reaches. A seasonal spring-fed creek burbled under a dusty stand of cottonwood trees and ponded cooly behind a low fieldstone dam. It was a great place to get naked. We did not hesitate.

We pitched the eight-person tent and threw our gear inside. We spread blankets in the cottonwoods' shade. We lolled under the trees, in the pond, or atop boulders. We drank wine, smoked joints, munched peanut brittle. We fornicated. We fornicated some more. And again. What the hell did you expect?

Whilst we cavorted naked out in the open, we heard noise in the sky. A light plane flew overhead, circled, lost altitude, flew over us a few times. We saw flashes of reflected sunlight, as if bouncing off a camera lens. We gestured rudely. The plane waggled its wings and departed.

The sun dropped behind the hills. The air temperature started dropping too. At our 3000-foot elevation, we could expect a cool November night. We built a campfire and gathered near.

"I've done some camp cooking before so I'll handle the food tonight," Doreen volunteered.

"Yeah," Wendy teased, "like heating hot dogs and frozen stew over a campfire is difficult."

"Whine whine whine," Doreen shrugged. "Just for that, you can do the cleanup afterwards."

"Cleanup?" I said, "Cleanup is easy. Just lick everything spotless. Pretend it's pussy."

"If you've had pussy that tastes like that, you really ARE a pervert," Alma-Li giggled.

"What, you've never had hot dogs or potatoes or carrots up your snatch?" I deadpanned.

"Well, yeah, but not recently," Almy admitted. "At least not potatoes. Not many, anyway."

"Hey, are we going to eat this great dinner, or just fuck it, or what?" Wendy inquired.

"How about if I provide a special seasoning?" I asked, stroking my cock towards the cook pot.

"How about I load your hot dogs with my sweet pussy juice before you eat them?" Wendy asked.

"Well, that's sort of like sucking Kirk's cock after he's done one of us," Doreen suggested.

"We'd better save some hot dogs and carrots," Almy said, "Dex's dick won't last all night."

"In case those aren't big enough for you," Wendy offered, "we'll save you a wine bottle too."

Yes, we were all in a merry mood.