July 4th 1932-- Dear Diary,
Today is my 10th birthday. None of the nasty little neighborhood bitches showed up for my party. Oh Diary, they're so mean to me. The never let me play jacks with them. They whisper that my dresses are too short, and that my family has too much money. And it's not my fault that the boys seem to like me. Thank goodness for my friend, Juicy Johnson. If her mama hadn't come to cook for us, I wouldn't have any girlfriends at all. Oh...all the boys showed up and brought me very nice gifts. Juicy and I did the hootchie-coochie dance for them when Mama left the room. It's true, those people really do have rhythm.
May 5th 1938-- Dear Diary,
Tonight was the junior prom. I don't know what the dean of girls' problem was, but she sent me home! I was wearing a beautiful strapless black velvet gown with an enticing slit up the thigh, and she claimed it was "too adult" for a sixteen year old. She also said it was "inappropriate" to attend with three dates. Well, I say, if they didn't mind sharing me, what was the problem? (We certainly didn't have any problems later on the beach!) No one understands me, Diary, I have...needs, that other girls just don't seem to have...and an itch that Jimmy Tucker just can't seem to scratch. Will I ever find a man that can scratch that itch?
June 1st 1939-- Dear Diary,
Today I graduate from High School. I'm so excited. I have a summer job at the swimming pool as a lifeguard, and I'll be going to college in the fall. Juicy has been dating this guy named Tricky Retardo. I think he's a bit of a wimp; but his brother, Jesus, is kinda cute. Juicy has the most amazing pair of breasts. I swear they look like zepplins attached to her ribcage. Mine are kinda puny in comparison, but I haven't had any complaints. Tonight she and I are going to pull a double-engine "train" for the graduating seniors on the football team. I wish Juicy could go to college with me. I'm going to miss her.
September 12th 1939--
Today, a few of my girlfriends and I went swimming at a local lake. The day was pleasantly warm and there was plenty of food. We noticed a large number of rather fancy automobiles in the area and decided to check them out. I swam over to where they were clustered. Sure enough...it was the President! I was so excited. I know he has that polio thing, but he can still get around pretty well with just the crutches.
Since it had originally been planned that it was just us girls, none of us bothered with swimming suits. I was trying to get close enough to see them all without being caught, but no such luck. FDR himself, turned and saw me treading water. He's not too fast on land, but damnation you should see that boy SWIM!
I tried to get back to the others, but he caught up with me. I was just close enough to the shore that I could find my footing and started to get out of the water.
It was his own fault, I swear! If he hadn't touched me, nothing might have happened. Now *I'm*supposed to feel guilty because he can't get out of the chair anymore? The doctors don't know if the erection will ever subside, but until then, he can't stand up without showing the nation just exactly how manly he still remains.
July 17th 1962--
To hell with those Kennedy boys and their brotherly love! I'm getting more than a little tired of having to deal with all three of them at once, "Er ah, be cahful of Teddy's back, theyah, Connie...and Jack's back too!" Bobby is the only one that's even mildly flexible physically, and he's so mentally INflexible that it just about breaks even. I'm getting tired of pretending to be their sister Kathleen. I called up Marilyn and Angie and told them we were going to have to have a party. I had to make a deal with J. Edgar to get the three of us into the Casa Blanca without passes. He desparately wanted my peach Channel suit with the matching pillbox hat. I made him grovel a bit, then I threw in the nautical patterned Hermes scarf , for his promise to keep that "syphillis thing" with Fidel to himself.
July 18, 1962--
Angie pulled one of Jack's groin muscles playing around in the rocking chair. He started yelling so loudly that the Secret Service guys ran in and started pointing guns at all of us. When they finally recognised Bobby (he was dressed as Little Bo-peep, and Marilyn was pretending to be a sheep), they lowered their weapons a little, but they were still wary. Jack was moaning in the chair, and Angie looked like she'd just been buckfucked by a cattle prod. "I'm STUCK!, " she wailed at me. The Secret Service guy's heads just swivelled back and forth between us. "Stuck how?" I asked her, climbing off Teddy's face and walking over to the chair. "I...I dunno...it just sorta swole up!" She looked like she was about to cry. Jack was trying to decide whether having Angie stuck onto his dick was worth the pain in his groin when I leaned over and whispered that J. Edgar had told me how round and fully packed he thought Jack's ass was. Suddenly Angie's vertical position lowered by about 5 inches.
I knew damned good and well that we weren't going to get out of this one without sucking something, so I just strolled over and blew the both of them before they had a chance to realize what I was going to do. As the dicks went UP...the guns went down. I tell you, Diary...some of the things I do for National Security....
March 10th, 1944--Dear Diary
I got a letter from "Bob" today. He's in Italy trying to clear up some mess or another he's gotten someone else into. It seems as though he was hitching a ride on a train called the Balvano Limited from Naples.
June 5th 1957-
Well Diary it was a very hot day and I went down to the lake to catch the breeze. It happened that I met a lovely young man there named "Tim." I don't know why I'm attracted to men with huge grins, but this guy had one of the most intense smiles I've ever seen.
It turns out that he's a scientist, a researcher of some sort. We spent the afternoon chatting about various aspects of consciousness and the evolution of the mind. I wanted desperately to tell him about "Bob's" work with the X-ists, but I'm sworn to secrecy right now. Instead, I thought I'd show him. I gave him one of "Bob's" little sugar cubes. I DID warn him, however. While we waited for it to take effect we chatted. I told him about "Bob" and the kids (the parts I COULD tell him). He seemed to think that it was unusual that Bobby Jr. should have a hemp farm.
"You mean to tell me your son smokes dope?" he queried.
"Since he was four." I confirmed. "I told him when I weaned him, 'Son you can smoke it as soon as you can roll it.' and I swear, that boy could roll a pin joint before he could tie his own shoes."
He seemed a bit flabergasted. "But what about his MIND?"
I shook my head slightly, "It doesn't seem to have effected him at all other than to keep his right brain turned on all the time. Bobby is the most creative of all my children so far."
"How many children do you have?" he asked, looking me up and down just the way I like them to.
I grinned at him," I have four beautiful sons, Bubba, Bobby Jr., Adam Kadmon and Shemp. Each is unique in his own way."
"How so?" he asked, still lucid, though I noticed that his pupils were changing size, so I suggested we find a less public spot. We walked to his laboratory together still chatting.
"Well, Bubba wants to be an engineer when he gets out of college. Bobby is the artist and farmer, Adam is a salesman just like his father, and Shemp, well I'm sure that Shemp will find his talent soon enough, he's still young yet, but he REALLY likes animals."
"It's too bad you didn't have any daughters." he offered, now seeing things that weren't actually there.
I unbuttoned the top of my blouse slowly smiling at him. "Well, Dr. Learly, I'm sure we can try to change that..."
"It's Leary, but who cares?" he replied, burying his face in my breasts just the way I like them too.
Anyway Diary, the trip may have been on me, but I had a nice little vacation on Tim. Now I know why he has that grin on his face all the time. I left him a few more sugar cubes, but who knows if he'll ever use them for anything.
Nov. 9th 1940 Dear Diary,
I haven't written for a while. I've been trying to come to terms with what is happening around me. Let me start from the beginning as best I can remember. I met a man named Philo Drummond at a party in a rather rough neighborhood. Suffice it to say that Mr. Drummond rescued me from the unwelcome attentions of several non-gentlemen and after I showed him privately how grateful I was, we began dating. Unbeknownst to me, he was also carrying on a long distance (and sometimes in person) romance with Juicy. It seems as though Philo was the friend of a friend of one of Jesus Retardo's drug sources. Juicy had gone along with her then date, Tricky to pick up his brother, Jesus at some fellow's house, and met Philo in the process.
I couldn't blame her for falling under his spell, he is a magnificent specimen of a man. I've never seen a penis with such...personality. So, I continued dating him, not knowing that I was being mentally compared to my childhood friend, almost a sister. I wonder how we must have compared in his mind, Juicy the passionate redhead with her muscular body and pendulous breasts. She must have seemed, a richness of curves. I, on the other hand, am slender and willowy. My breasts barely fill a man's hands, and my bush is pale; almost platinum. This fragile appearance belies my passion, though.
I discovered his secret quite by accident. It was rainy night last night, cold, with a biting wind that tore at clothing and frosted appendages. I was in a frenzy for Philo. I wasn't thinking about the weather, only about his clever penis and hot quick hands. I took a long lazy bath, teasing myself in anticipation, hovering at the edge of climax, then backing down. The steam and the scent of the herbs in the water made me drowsy and relaxed. I was balanced on the edge of ecstacy and sleep. The sound of a door slamming down the hall broke my reverie and I regretfully left the tub.
I remember that the rough towel felt good on my skin, and I rubbed myself to a pink glow, then wrapped it around my head like a turban. I went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of black stockings and a garter belt. After putting them on, I went to the closet and found my little fur lined shoes and grandmother's mink. She was a tall woman and the coat's hem hit me below the calves. I had a little mink beret that Father brought back from Paris as a gift, and I stuffed my still damp hair into it and arranged it properly on my head. Still warm and glowing, almost overhot from the furs, I left my room and ventured out into the night.
Need makes madmen of us all, and I am no exception. In my sexual frenzy I never stopped to think about the weather. It was over half a mile to Philo's place and I was on foot in little high heels, albeit fur-lined. The wind danced up grandmother's coat, chilling my pussy, and slithering up my back. I pulled it closer repeatedly but the wind was like a dog smelling a bitch in heat. It tore at my coat and hat. I was forced to pin the hat to my head with one hand, while the wind exposed me to the rain and its frosty embrace. My nipples were like rose quartz crystals, and my bush was rimed with frost. I felt myself growing faint. The pavement seemed to rush toward my face.
Suddenly there was a hand around my waist, pulling me vertical, then another between my breasts assisting. I could smell pipe smoke, and hear his breathing. He closed my coat without touching me further, and I turned around. I don't know what I expected, some tweed-jacketed professorial type, or a soldier, those were the usual pipe smokers I'd run into. I didn't expect this tall handsome man with the huge grin. It confused me, his grin. It was both lascivious, and innocent, greedy and generous. It was as though he was seeing both me, Connie, I mean right into my soul, and at the same time, seeing me as all women. I stood transfixed, the temperature forgotten.
With what seemed like infinite slowness, he slipped his hands inside the fur, pulling me close and burying his face in my neck. He breathed in the scent of the fur and my skin like an animal sniffing its food. I felt possessed, owned. It was both frightening and erotic. I stopped thinking and just gave in to the pleasure of his hands. I noticed that the wind had suddenly stopped, and the patter of the rain was lessening. He slipped the fur from my arms and lay it on the wet grass beside the sidewalk. His hands were all over me, in intricate patterns of heat. Somehow, the pipe disappeared into his pocket, and he began kissing me. The heat of his hands was nothing like the fire of his tongue. I was probably moaning in both delight and need. I don't remember everything. In some ways his fire threatens to scorch me even in memory. He lowered me to the waiting fur and covered me with his entire body. I orgasmed twice before he even got his penis in me. He just kept grinning at me. Diary, the earth didn't move, it did a mambo. I didn't see stars, I saw constellations and the birth of Universes. I didn't just come, I arrived with a full set of Italian luggage on an elephant with gaily colored porters in tow.
When I'd caught my breath, for the tenth and final time (that night), he stood up, and brushed the stray leaves and grass of his trousers (which were remarkably dry and unwrinkled), then handed me his business card. It said "J. R. "Bob" Dobbs, Salesman" and his phone number. "I'll call you," he said, and somehow, I knew he meant it. "Don't you need my number?" I asked. The pipe appeared from his pocket and all but inserted itself into his mouth, "Don't you worry, Miss Marsh, I've GOT your number." The frightening thing is, Diary, I don't think he was talking about my telephone.
He picked my coat up off the ground and shook it hard, then handed it to me. It seemed none the worse for wear. In fact, it seemed as warm and dry as when I'd put it on, however many hours earlier. Then he was gone. I didn't hear or see him walk off, but I turned to slip into the coat and he'd vanished like a ghost. Philo's place was just a few blocks away and I made it there without further incident. He was working on some science project or other and seemed distracted. He didn't even notice that I was without stockings (they were irretrievable), or that my hair was a total rat's nest. He motioned for me to sit down on the bed. I did. Something sharp poked me through the coat. I reached beneath me and pulled out a broach. It was beautiful, Florentined gold set with half a dozen little rubies and another half dozen tiny diamonds in a swirling pattern. I knew this broach. It was mine. The only problem was that I didn't have that broach at school with me that semester. I'd lent it to Juicy just before coming back to school. That meant, that Juicy had been with Philo. All thoughts of the strange be-piped man disappeared from my brain. I realized that they both had been lying to me....my best friend, and my boyfriend. I bolted upright from the bed and tore open the front of the coat, exposing my naked form. Philo stopped fiddling with his project and stared at me.
"What's wrong with THIS!" I demanded furiously.
"Uh..er, nothing as far as I can tell," he stammered as his hand involuntarily reached out for me.
I stepped back to avoid his reach and fell onto the bed, my legs flying up in the air and providing him an uninterupted view of my purse. His eyes softened and he smiled at me.
"Oh no you don't, Mister!" I warned, scrambling to the head of the bed, and closing my legs.
"Whatsamatta, Connie? You know you like it..." he slipped off my shoe, then began licking my instep.
I shivvered, but resisted, "Does Juicy like that too?" I asked.
He looked up at me apprehensively. "What do you mean?"
I pulled my foot from his grasp. "I mean, does my best friend Juicy enjoy having you lick her foot just before you fuck her?"
He looked at me a little abashed but certainly not as guiltily as I would have liked. "Well, yeah, she likes it. Don't you?"
I tore my beret off and slapped him on the head with it a few times. It did no damage, but I felt better. When I'd gotten that tiny release, I smiled at him and sweetly asked for a dollar. He handed it over without asking why. My head was swimming and I'd had enough for one evening, so I simply picked up my shoe and coat and left the room without another word. I called a cab and paid for it with Philo's buck.
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