O.K., so this may not be exactly what I had in mind when I promised you pussy tales. I am not sure how much of myself I really want to put into these words, I am not one who likes to keep secrets, on the contrary, I kind of enjoy spewing outrageous truths and shocking my audiences. So, you who are now reading these words (I am twisting the perspective a little bit here,) BE WARNED!!!!! I will bare some of my soul, my past and my sexual escapades, accolades and fantasies. I know that sooner or later some who know me intimately and/or passingly will read this. Just keep in mind that there will be some potentially embarrassing things in here and that I don't mind that much to disclose them. I usually keep them to myself in order to protect you: Especially since you may be a close friend, lover or lets face it, one of my descendants. If you decide to read past this warning do me a favor - stop asking me to elaborate and confirm or deny this or the other and remember that you will run into me again and perhaps it will make it more difficult for you. When I say potentially embarrassing things, I mean to you, so stop reading right now!! And if you happen to be Phil, don't start pestering me with stuff like: Oh you never told me that! - Hey, I thought you slept with her. - Come on, you did sleep with her didn't you? Try to remember, some parts of this folly are totally in my imagination.

Once upon a time, I had a lover named Sallie. Sallie was definitely one of the most intelligent women I have ever met. How intelligent, I couldn't say, I never made the IQ test a prerequisite to sharing my bed (or rather my body, cause it could be her bed, some friend's bed, no bed and so on.) I loved the way Sallie would go all misty on me when she felt romantic. Anyway, the sex was good, the conversation was good and we shared a love of good beer that kicked everything up a notch. Sallie was moving to California, sometime in that reality's future and I didn't have any idea how I intended to handle that. I figured, I will delay the decision for as long as possible. Well, she flew to California a couple of times, and every time she did that, she left me her pussy. I don't remember the pussy's name but I would go to her place every other day to make sure there was enough water, cat food and of course clean the litter box. My marriage was definitely on the skids at this time, as this was happening during a nine month separation period. The nine months were just the right period of time for my (first) wife to conceive a child with a man she intended to marry after we finally got divorced. I do not like to speak evil of anyone so I will not go into details about this whole thing; Suffice to say, that she found out some things about the guy that changed her intentions. And so, being pregnant and an emotional wreck, she turned to me once more, for assistance, and I, being the kind of person that I would love to think I am, returned to her. I am sorry Sallie, I wish ... Anyway, I still love you Sallie, I hope you forgave me in the 20 years that have passed since then, and I wish we could meet again some day as friends. Oh, the birth was accomplished through a C-section, during which I held my wife's hand and I like to think that my moral support helped bring into this world a beautiful daughter to whom I gave my name and who gave us a beautiful grandson.

And now we come to Bella: She once went to England and left me her pussy. This one I remember, because I wrote him a song, even though he pissed on all my stuff as he wasn't fixed. His name was Trigger and when Bella returned I took him to Manhattan to reunite them; As soon as he saw her he jumped out of my arms with a screech of rage leaving a nice long gash on my right forearm. Bella explained that more then being happy to see her, he was probably venting his outrage at being left behind. And here I was, thinking that we were getting along so well. Now Bella, as I've already said elsewhere was an exotic dancer and though I did get to see her dance naked many times, this was the only pussy I got from her. Hey, Bella you know I still love you and I wish I could see you dance once more.

Lina, that is actually short for Felina, was apparently trying to pick up one of my daughters who was tending bar in a place named Alcatrazz in the East Village. This was on January 1st 1991. I was sitting at the bar next to her when she asked my daughter what her father would think about her working in a such a sleazy place; "Why don't you ask him," she replied, "He is sitting right next to you. One thing led to another and with the instigating push of her friend, who was trying to turn her straight again, we ended up on the upper west side in the bed of a place they were house sitting. (Only me & Lina, take it easy all of you dirty minds out there.) Lina was in the process of moving in with her lover (yes, another girl,) but she was probably not that secure in her choice because we kept seeing each other for 6 glorious months. We would be necking in bars, and on street corners, and we seemed to be having a lot more foreplay than actual intercourse, but let me tell you, over the years I found that foreplay is most rewarding. Of course, sometimes the reward is actual intercourse (by which I mean penetration,) and that is really great most of the time, but sometimes it just leaves you wishing that there was more to it and other times it just gives you those post-coital blues. I bet you that's what Peggy Lee was singing about when she sang "Is That All There Is?" Anyway, back to the pussy, yes it was the sweetest, but what I actually wanted to say, was that her pussy got sick and she had to cancel a couple of dates because of that. Eventually, we got busted and she had to decide between me and her girlfriend. I lost. Hey Lina I really loved you and I still do, and from the bottom of my heart, I hope that your life for the past 24 or so years has turned out to be most excellent and that you still live and love and laugh somewhere out there. Miss you.

Now, Diana was another smart cookie and I eventually mustered the courage to ask her out. We went to this place called the Gascogne where the bartender was mixing a drink he called D'Artagnan that eventually got Diana quite drunk. She was almost an hour late to our date, so they gave away our table whereupon we had to wait an hour at the bar for another table. It almost ended up badly when Diana, being quite drunk by then, dropped one of her crutches (The cast came off a couple of weeks later,) but I caught her. If you were following my story, then you can guess why she was late: Her pussy was sick. At a later time she broke another date date because her pussy actually died. Here's where Phil comes in again; I guess I must have been telling him all these pussy tales because one day he said: " This is kind of funny; Somehow there seems to be a pussy involved in all of your relationships but it doesn't quite seem to be the kind you're looking for - I mean here we have your girl who went to California and left you her pussy, then another went to England and left you her pussy, and a third whose pussy was sick and the last whose pussy died. There's gotta be some kind of moral in this story but I can't see it." Anyway, back to Diana, I have to admit that I handled that situation very badly, mostly by not handling it at all. Diana told me she was working in some kind of video studio, but I found out later that she was actually a sex surrogate. I am not sure how she handled that situation, but on the outside she seemed very well adjusted. I think I mentioned before that she was also gorgeous and very smart. So, a time came when I was in the ideal position to have sex with her and for some reason, I was too nervous. It should be quite obvious by now that I love women, and that means the sight of them, the feel of them, the smell of them and everything else about them. The problem seems to be that when I am in the presence of a real, live woman, I become nervous; I have tried to analyze my problem and I think that by now I might be partially over it. There is always too much going on in my head; Things like: Does she really want to have sex with me? - That one is pretty stupid when you are alone in bed with a woman, but there have been times when it really was the case. And then, how exactly do you get from here to there? Meaning how does my penis become lodged in her vagina? - The mechanics seem complicated if you think too much. - In older movies, they just cut the in between part and of course the whole thing is simulated so there's no way you can learn from that. In porn movies, dicks are always stiff and seem magnetically drawn to the pussy, no problems whatsoever. But in my situation there where no fluffers, and some of my thoughts where like this: O.K., so I get to feel her all over, and I excite all of the erogenous zones that I can think of, and then I realize that she is soaking wet and ready for me, but my dick is not hard. What then? It's like false advertising not to mention that I feel so embarrassed by it. I hope you all get the picture. In some of the newer movies, they seem to address this more often and I wish they had things like "American Pie" when I was younger, it would have helped. Of course, later on, when she's gone to sleep I get this monster erection that I'm not sure what to do with - After all, it took a little while to get the girl excited earlier, and she may not be interested anymore after my miserable showing, so I end up resolving the problem by using some of the old home remedies - Both the left one and the right one. Diana, in this case told me the next day that she was very insulted, so that was that.

I suspect that all of this might have something to do with my being molested when I was about 5 or so. Molested is perhaps, too strong a word for what happened. Basically, a girl that was 3-4 years older than me, introduced me and a few other girls to sexual games. I lived in a little cul-de-sac and I happened to be the oldest boy around, thankfully all the other players where girls, so at the least I should be thankful that fate did not encumber me with homosexual memories. The only close call was when I was somewhat older (about 7 or 8) and that was busted by a neighbor before the perpetrator (a teenager) could actually reap my cherry. So, I don't know how this ties into what I am relating here, other than to postulate that perhaps I got the idea that someone needs to lead me by my dick all the way into the sunshine valley of the promised land. My sexual experimentation must have left some kind of footprints on my mind - I still get excited at the thought of playing doctor, and I don't know how getting busted makes a difference. The first time, I came home all red and flustered or something, because my mother seemed concerned and she asked why that was so - I told her that I've been fucking - She always used to tell this story at parties and I guess I realized that, sadly, I couldn't trust her with my confidences. Even though I knew that, I did tell her when I first got bitten by a dog which resulted in me getting a series of about 50 anti-rabies shots - I never told her again, even though i had a knack of getting dogs mad and biting me; I have survived so I guess my folly is vindicated.

As to my sex life, it continued well into my early teens, the last encounter being when I was about 13 and I got busted screwing the daughter of one of our neighbors. The person that caught us didn't mention it to anybody, so that dealing with the girl's parents did not become an issue. Zorica, (that was her name,) used to always blush when she ran into me afterwards and I remember thinking that her acne wouldn't be so bad if she gave me little ride now and then. Not too long after, we left Romania for Israel and it all came to an end. Even though I still lusted after girls, for a while I didn't speak the language and after that, I am not sure; It just didn't happen. The next encounter of the fourth kind didn't happen until sometime during my military service about 5-6 years later. There were a few others, but I would like to skip over them for the time being. The one that I would like to talk about is this:

I was an only child, and for all my life, what I had wanted more than anything was a sibling; Sometimes I would dream that my sister Gitl (whom I had never met because she perished in a concentration camp a few years before I was born,) was somehow alive somewhere and that I would meet her someday. - That is why I used to want a lot of children. So, anyway those hips really spoke to me of childbearing and so I think, that is when I fell in love with her. I still didn't do anything until a few weeks later when one of my co-workers dated her once. On the next day, he told me about it and that all she wanted to talk about was me, and that the only reason that she dated him was on the off chance that he would help her case with me. I am not 100% sure if that happened before or after the beach incident. One thing led to another, and before you know it, I ended up at her flat. This was one that she was sharing with the same friend at whose place I had first seen her. Me, with all my foibles would have probably fumbled this one too, but she was determined enough that when we went to sleep (there was only one bed,) she took off all her clothes and told me that was how it was done in Sweden (where she was born.) I followed her lead in spite of my nervousness and though it took a little time we eventually did manage to have sex. It wasn't great to start with, but with time it got better and there were a few times that were donwright legendary. (Like the time I came home after spending 7 months in Syria & Egypt during the Yom Kippur war.) At this time though, me and my friend were basically having an affair with two American girls who were also friends - What glorious times. There are a lot of sad things that I could focus on, but I choose not to. - The good times and the positive events events that  we have experienced together are the only things that I wish to remember and for that I am forever thankful.