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By three P.M. we were back in the car and heading north on the interstate a few miles to the small town of Weed. I had found a text message from Chloe after I had put on a clean shirt and underwear that I hoped were clean.
“Chas…meet me at my office in Weed. B there till 5. Bring$$.” Leave it to Chloe to get right to the point.
I had met Chloe two years ago when I had made my first trip to Shasta to visit my cousins. They were actually my second cousins but it was usually too complicated to explain how my parents had both been the youngest of thirteen children and that most of my first cousins were older than my parents and in fact are now formerly alive. Northern California back in the 60’s and 70’s was the haven of loggers, fisherman, several tribes of Native Americans and hippies. My father was a logger. My second cousins were hippies.
Steve was the older brother to Mickey and Vicky, fraternal twins who were in reality nothing like each other. We all grew up in the same neighborhood and since they were five years older than me (in the case of Mickey and Vicky, seven years for Steve); I revered the ground that they walked on. Just about every important fact that I learned in life outside of school I learned from them. Where babies came from, for example. I remember lying in the grass in our backyard while Mickey thumbed through a tattered magazine with no cover, showing pictures to his brother.
“They’re doing it.” Mickey said, pointing to a grainy picture of a naked couple embraced on a bed.
“Yep, they sure are. They’re doing it hard!” Steve agreed with enthusiasm.
Being all of nine years old, I wasn’t exactly sure what they were doing but I couldn’t admit that in front of my heroes.
“Wow they sure are doing it!” I said sticking my head in front of Steve’s to see the picture.
They both laughed. “Do you know what they are doing?”
I was caught but couldn’t back down. “Sure, they are kissing.”
Mickey looked at me seriously and asked “Do you know what ELSE they are doing?” Steve couldn’t help himself. He was trying and failing to stifle his laugh. He took a big gulp of Coke from his bottle and it started spraying from his nose.
I knew that I was missing something. I was happy that I was amusing them but was starting to feel embarrassed at missing out on what the couple was doing. I decided to go for it. “I’ll bet they are drinking booze.” I said, proud of myself.
They both started laughing so hard that Vicky came out of the house to see what was going on. I don’t mind saying that while I worshipped Steve and Mickey; I was flat out in love with Vicky. Steve explained to Vicky what had just happened, all the while hiccupping laughs when he got to my explanations of what I was seeing. Vicky kartal escort bayan just smiled at me. I melted inside whenever she smiled at me that way.
“They are making love.” She explained to me.
I nodded my head as if I understood. I would have nodded my head if she had told me that they were making a nuclear bomb.
“They are fucking!” Mickey added emphatically, as if that explained everything. Vicky frowned at him.
Over the next twenty minutes Mickey and Steve explained their understanding of sex to me. They weren’t too far off except when Mickey said that as soon as I put my dong inside the girl I would have to pee…just a little. Steve cuffed him on the side of the head, yelling “You retard! That’s not right.” This lead to a few minutes of wrestling, which always ended with Steve pinning Mickey to the ground and making him say “Uncle.”
After letting Mickey up from under him, Steve said in a solemn voice. “You don’t pee, you shoot some jizz.”
Peeing made more sense to me since I had absolutely no idea what jizz could be.
Steve said “Look, you will figure it out. Probably pretty soon. If you want to know what jizz looks like go take a peek at Mickey’s sheets.”
This lead to another wrestling bout which I thought Mickey might actually win because Steve was laughing so hard. Vicky grabbed the garden hose coiled on the back of the house and started spraying them both until they stopped. Steve was still laughing so hard that he was having a coughing fit. Mickey was breathing hard and obviously still pissed but he started laughing too when he saw Steve’s glasses go flying off his face when he took a face full from the hose.
They both turned to Vicky, who screamed, dropped the hose and started to run. She didn’t make it very far when she was hit by the tepid stream of hose water. She was wearing her white PE t shirt from school, and as she turned to face the boys I got my first look at a girl in a wet t shirt. Mickey held the water on her chest full force and Vicky stood there defiantly, her budding breasts showing through as if she was wearing nothing. I stood there in slack jawed amazement.
Steve finally grabbed the hose from his brother and turned off the water. Then he removed his plaid button up shirt, wrung out the water and handed it to his sister. At first she didn’t take it. She just stood there with her hands on her hips, staring at Mickey. To this day, I think that she did that just for me. I know that it is an image that I will never forget. Finally she put the shirt on over her wet t, and Steve made his younger siblings shake hands. Steve was always the peacemaker.
When Steve died in Vietnam four years later, I cried the whole night when I got the news from Mickey. escort maltepe To this day I make a yearly pilgrimage to Washington DC, hike to the Vietnam memorial and touch his name engraved into the black marble. It always makes me smile.
I left California after attending Cal Tech, but I always stayed in close contact with Mickey and Vicky, who never left northern California. They both became pot farmers and both made a small fortune, although you would never know it by the way they dressed or the cars that they drove. Mickey lived with his girlfriend of 22 years, Sharon. Vicky had entertained a string of suitors but had never actually settled down. There was a rumor that she had once been in a relationship with Leonard Cohen, and that the song “Suzanne” had actually been written about her, but I could never get her to confirm or deny that story.
When the feds finally started cracking down on the pot farms in Humboldt County, they both decided to move to Mt. Shasta. They both bought houses on the same street. Vicky opened a shop selling sacred crystals and other healing minerals. Mickey and Sharon opened a coffee shop/herb shop/kennel. How they came up with that concept I never understood but it worked in Shasta.
Over the years we communicated by written letter and then email and then Facebook. For some reason they both rarely talked on the telephone. Something about radium chips and a government conspiracy. When you grow pot for most of your adult life for a living and heavily partake of the bounty, you start to see conspiracies behind every bush.
I started visiting them in Shasta seven years ago. I loved the culture and the laid back attitude. The air was clean and the conversation was always interesting. I learned early on that this was the location that the lost civilization of Atlantis had made its way to when the city had fallen into the ocean. The million or so inhabitants now lived under the mountain in a city named Telos. Jesus supposedly lived there, too.
Sometimes when I was with friends of Mickey and Vicky, strumming a guitar under the starlight around a campfire, they would tell me their stories of visiting Telos. I mostly kept my mouth shut, having learned early on that this was no joke to them. This was the world of Shasta. It was semi magical and mostly mystical. There were faith healers and raki masters and I even once saw a Tibetan monk. There were hippies and yippies and the concept of free love still existed here. Pot was plentiful, acid was available but most other drugs were scorned.
I met Chloe on one of my early visits. Vicky told me that I looked tired and worn down, but she knew just the person I should see. She said that Chloe was an herbalist and a seer. At one time in her life she had pendik escort been a showgirl in Las Vegas. She had moved from Vegas to New Orleans after some fancy hustler from New York City had stolen her heart and most of her hard earned money.
In New Orleans she had learned the art of voodoo from a Haitian woman who allowed her to live in her flat if she would clean and sing for her. She must have done both very well because she became one of the most sought after voodoo artists in Louisiana. The word was that the hustler from New York came down with a rare disease that left his penis in a state of constant pain with boils that itched and oozed. When the Haitian woman died, Chloe packed up her clothes and her assortment of dolls, herbs and voodoo tools and moved to Mt. Shasta.
When I met her she was working out of a double wide trailer on the outskirts of town. There was no sign and she did not advertise. Her business was conducted strictly by word of mouth. I have asked many people in Shasta about her, and although everyone knew her, they could not agree on exactly what she did. One lady I knew described her as a spiritualist. Sharon called her a witch. The woman who owned the Black bear called her a medicine woman. Mickey just shrugged his shoulders and said that she was the person who could see things that we couldn’t and do things that we shouldn’t.
On my first visit to her she looked into my eyes with a magnifying glass and told me that I had a problem with my adrenal glands. She asked me if my sex life was okay. Vicky giggled a little when I told her that my sex life was just fine. She said that was good, and asked me if I would have sex with her right then. I stood there stunned. I would guess that Chloe was about forty years older than me the first time I met her.
She laughed and said “Sonny, don’t worry. I am only kidding. But just know that if I ever do want sex with you, you will be at my doorstep with an erection so powerful you will feel like King Kong. And the best part is you will come here and leave here thinking that it was all your idea.”
She gave me a tincture to take for my affliction which I immediately ignored until two weeks later when I visited my long time doctor and friend in Atlanta because I was so tired all of the time. After several days of tests, he revealed to me that I had a benign tumor on my left adrenal gland that was causing it to malfunction. He gave me a steroid to take that he warned would have some unpleasant side effects. I began taking the voodoo drug instead and within two weeks I was back to my old self. Six months later my doctor friend congratulated himself for fixing my problem so completely. I smiled and just said thanks.
Over the years Chloe had helped to solve several problems for me. And yes, I have had sex with her several times and it was my idea. I am sure of that. I am also sure that she is now only about twenty years older than me.
I hope that she was feeling generous today. This one was going to be the most difficult task yet.
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