Stacy

When: November 1982 to April 1986
Status:  Married, two kids

Occupation: Dental hygenist (part-time)

Meetings: 40

Age: 30

And that's what friends are forrrrrrrrrrrrrr........

So back in November of 1982,  Four Corners Ronnie and I were having a little food old-fashioned casual sex one night. Actually, we were having a lot of good old-fashioned casual sex that night.  We had only been fucking for a couple of months or so, but I must have made a good impression on her.

I had just cum when Ronnie playfully pushed me off of her and said, "Bathroom!"

"I told you not to have that beer before we fucked."
"Had sex, you savage. Not fucked."

The door shut and soon Ronnie returned. She crawled back into bed and said, "Maybe we can help each other out."

"We just did. Did you want another ride on the Ryan Railway?"
"Well, yes. Hopefully longer next time. But that's not what I'm talking about."
"You need money? I thought you put out for free."
"Fuck you. No....just, well, you're a whore, right?"
"Of course. That's what your sister says."
"She would know. Wanna be set up? For a fuck date? But you have to pretend it's just a date and not a fuck date."
"You're too young to be senile, Ronnie."

"I have a friend coming up from San Diego on Friday. Her name is Stacy. She's married. And having some issues with her husband, her job, everything. She needs to take a mini-vacation."
"Okay."
"So I told her to come out here next week. But she made plans to come out this coming Friday."
"And?"
"So I have to fly to Denver this weekend. Last second family stuff."
"So why doesn't she just come up Monday?"
"She's already made her arrangements and can't wait to get away. So amuse her for the weekend, moron."
"So she wants to get laid."

"Lovely way to put it. Yes. But she doesn't want it to seem that way. She'd just like a guy to take her to dinner or whatever and see what happens. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge."
"So you want me to take her out to dinner knowing full well that I'll be banging her. Do you always help your friends cheat on their husbands?"
"Oh please. The guy's a dick. Cheats on her all the time. I finally convinced her to do the same. And since when do YOU care about a woman being married?"

Good point. And it's always cool when you have a fuck buddy ask you to fuck one of her friends. It's kind of like an x-rated referral service.

"Got a pic?"
"Here."

Yeah, this wouldn't be an issue.

"Now I do have to warn you....before she was married, she was pretty wild. I know she wants to let loose, but....."
"You don't know how much?"
"Yeah. Think you're up for it?"
"Sure. Can I do her here?"
"Ryan....."
"Can I stay over if she wants me too? That better?"
"Yes it is. And yes you can. And......just in case...."

She leaned over to her nightstand and held up a bag of pot. Weed. Mary Jane. California Tea. Green gold.

Some cannibis for the rest of us!

"Cool."
"If she wants to."
"You keep that shit with kids in the house?"
"No dumbass. They're with their dad the next two weeks."
"Good, because that would be irresponsible."
"Shut fucking up. Go easy on this."
"That's what she said. Why?"
"My friend told me that it's a bit stronger that what he usually gives me."
"Sounds good."

It was kind of a busy time for me, girl-wise. I had just finished up with Miranda ("nice hot cum for meeeeeee...."), had just started sexing up Kendall, and was seeing Angela on and off. But I felt that if I was needed to help out a lady in need, what kind of bastard would I be if I said no?

Exactly!

I didn't really need to mention Miranda. But any opportunity I have to repeat her sexual catchphrase "nice hot cum for me", I have to take advantage of. That phrase was so bad it almost KEPT me from cumming a few times.

Someday I'll stop picking on Miranda. That day has yet to arrive.  That moron deserves for not sucking Mr. Happy.  Bitch.

But how did Ronnie know that Stacy would want to hook up with little ol' me?

"I sent her your picture and told her all about you. Totally talked you up. Said we were friends from school, that you were an awesome guy, all that."
"So you just told her the truth. Very good."
"Shut up."

Anyway, so Thursday came (and trashed me out again....) and Ronnie took off for Denver. 

Ronnie gave me the keys to her house and Stacy was supposed to stop by my house to pick them up.  Around 6:30, I saw her pull into the driveway and I grabbed the keys and went to meet her.

"Hi. Ryan?"
"Stacy?"
"Hey, nice to meet you."
"Here are the keys."
"Ah, thank you.  So you have any plans for tonight?"

No beating around the bush.  I liked that.

"None.  Care to go out for a bite after you get settled in?"
"Hmmmm....how about I go to Ronnie's, call and check on the kids....take a shower....then we can have a pizza delivered?"
"Sounds great.  What time?"
"I'm starving....about 8:00?"
"I'll be there."
"I'm looking forward to it."

Then she hopped back into her car and left.

Stacy at the club.  My mind's shot.  I cannot remember what on earth she's 

holding in her left hand.

I drove up to Ronnie's house and sat down in the living room and ate. Stacy was really nice and very easy to talk to.

But I really wasn't sure what I should do next. Go home and let Stacy relax? Go home and come back the next day? Stay? Offer her some nylons and candy to have sex?

Luckily, Stacy answered that question. After we finished eating, she got up and said, "Want a beer?"

That meant that I'd be staying.

"Sure."

A minute later I heard, "That's my girl! She left us stocked!  Sweet!"

Yeah, that's all I needed to hear. Then again, Alex always says that I only hear what I want to hear anyway, so I guess it didn't really matter if Stacy offered me a beer after all.

We downed a lot of beers over the next hour and a half. And I have to admit that I was a bit drunk. Then again, two beers gets me buzzed--I'm a total lightweight. I wasn't slobbering down my chin or anything, but I was feeling really, really good.

And Stacy wasn't feeling any pain, either.

Finally--and I don't even remember what we were talking about at this point--I leaned over and kissed her. She kissed me back and we started making out on the couch for several minutes. Then she pulled back a little and said, "Ronnie told you I was married, right?"

"Yeah, it's cool. I'm single, so you won't be cheating."

Drunk or not, that was a great line. Then again, I'm biased. But Stacy agreed with my reasoning--so she must have liked it as well.

"Yeah, that makes perfect sense!"

We resumed kissing and I reached around and unhooked her bra. Stacy took off her shirt and bra and I leaned over and started sucking on her nipples (one at a time, of course--I'm good, but not THAT good).

I then slid my hands down her slacks and under her panties and started fingering her. "Fingering" isn't really an accurate word though. It was more like fondling, but THAT word has such a negative connotation, I didn't want to use it.

So did I take the Pilot out of the hangar? Not really. This was more like a Palm Pilot Lite (all the taste, half the arousal). I was a bit too out of it to operate the Pilot good and proper. 

Besides, it's illegal to fly under the influence.

I then got up and leaned down. Stacy lifted her hips up and I slid her pants off.

She laid back and spread her legs and I kissed my way up one leg and up the other. Having run out of legs, I decided it was time to let my tongue do the talking.

I slid my tongue in and out of her several times before spreading her lips and licking and sucking her clit. That drew a loud groan and I knew she was close. I knew it wouldn't take long for Stacy to cum. I'm that good.

Actually, I think she was ready the minute she picked up Ronnie's keys. That's the good thing about poaching; usually those willing to be poached haven't had an active sex life with their spouses for quite awhile (the bad thing about poaching is starting a blog and not making an entry for six months).

After Stacy came, she told me to stand up and "get naked....now!" Being a gentleman, I followed her orders.

She sat back up on the couch and took Mr. Happy into her mouth and blew me for a couple of minutes. Then she laid back down and I got on top of her and slid inside.

Drunk or not, that part always feels great.

It was tough, for whatever reason, for us to get a good rhythm going on that couch. So after a couple of minutes, we got up and went into the guest room.

Stacy smiled and gently pushed me down onto my back and started sucking me again. Then she straddled me and eased herself down my shaft.

The bed did the trick. We finally found that rhythm and she rocked back and forth for a few minutes until she came again.

Stacy then got up and then got on all fours. Cool, my never cum position.

I moved up behind her and slid in again. I started slowly and at her urging, increased my speed. Stacy kept thrusting her hips back to meet me every time I slid back in. After several minutes, she had another orgasm and groaned and told me to cum.

People think I'm joking about having trouble cumming this way. It's true. I don't know why, but I've always had trouble cumming in the doggie position. But that's a good thing. However, I really DID want to cum by this point. Mr. Happy was getting a little annoyed.

So I decided to try a position that's usually best attempted when fully sober. Luckily, I had done it enough so it wasn't all that tough.

Now, I don't know the actual name of the position that I'm about to describe, but Alex has dubbed it "The Shakira". So I'll give it a shot.

We started out in the doggy position--obviously. I slid all the way into Stacy and had her stretch her legs out and followed her down, keeping Mr. Happy inside of her. We ended up with her on her stomach and me on her back.

I lifted myself up just a bit--still keeping Mr. Happy inside of her--and put my legs outside of hers.

Then I had Stacy put her legs close together (an insane feeling for Mr. Happy, I must say). Then I positioned my knees so that they straddled her hips. And then, in a position where I was sitting upright on my knees, I started gyrating my hips and grinding against her (hence the "Shakira" reference to "Hips Don't Lie").

It's a pretty intense position, and I wouldn't advise using it if you need a condom, because that sucker will slide right off--at least that's what I've found the case to be.

That's about the best way I can describe The Shakira. If anybody recognizes this position, please let me know (if you can even decipher what I said--I reread that a few times and can't think of a better way to describe it).

Anyway, I kept rocking and leaning back and forth, and Stacy's hips didn't lie either, as she matched my movements perfectly. Finally, after several minutes, Stacy cried out that she was cumming, and I took one last push in and came myself.

To untangle from The Shakira, follow the earlier steps in reverse order.

My two favorite parts are when she's sitting in the chair
and she spreads her legs and the part where her breasties
go "bouncy-bouncy"!

Anyway, I pulled out of Stacy and rolled off of her. She smiled and said, "That's a new one. Where'd you learn THAT?"

Well, I couldn't really tell her that Ronnie had introduced me to it, so I did the next best thing: I lied.

"An ex showed it to me."

Okay, now the rest of this night starts to get a bit blurry. As in I really don't remember too much blurry.

We were laying next to each other when Stacy said, "Did Ronnie leave anything....special....for us?"

Ah, the marijuana......

"In her nightstand drawer."

Cool. We'd toke that mother up, get high, and engage in altered-perception sex. I'm always up for a little altered-perception sex. I just made that term up, by the way. And I'm the only one who's ever used it, so consider it trademarked.

Ronnie--or her supplier--had graciously rolled the joints. Excellent. So Stacy lit it up, took a deep drag and it my was turn.

Then her turn. Then my turn.....

Okay, you get the point.

Of course, having the attention span of a puppy with ADD, I had forgotten Ronnie's warning of going easy. And after we knocked of the first one, we were feeling so good that we decided that since some is good.....

more is much, much better.

And to just put fuel on the fire, we figured that some more beer would go just dandy with Mother Nature as well. So she lit up another doobie and I grabbed us a couple of beers and we destroyed that joint and pounded down those beers. And after that, some more beers.

Oh man.

Altered-perception sex? More like barely conscious sex. I THINK we went at it a couple of more times that night. But I've never really been sure. I do have a few mental images that flash in my mind. One is of Stacy on top of me and a couple of more are me on top of her on Ronnie's sofa (maybe we thought if at first you don't succeed....).

But that pot fucked us up pretty good. And throw the beer drinking on top of it and you have the perfect storm for an almost total-blackout.

We woke up around noon the next day, and we were hurting. We had hangovers and whatever was left of that super pot left in our systems as well.

Stacy staggered into the shower while I lay there, wondering what the fuck was in that pot. I'm not sure I really wanted to know. I was just happy to have survived it.

Perfection.

Stacy got out of the shower and flopped back into the bed.

"Did that help, Stacy?"
"Kinda. A little."

I grabbed a towel and got into the shower. The hot water felt pretty good. It didn't really help me remember anything that had happened, however.

Stacey didn't remember much either. She also thought that we got it on a couple of more times as well. We weren't using condoms, so we couldn't, uh, count them.

Oh well.

We sat there, trying to recover and I figured that I might as well get my ass out of bed and make some lunch for us. I asked Stacy if she wanted something and she nodded and offered to help me. I told her to just relax, watch some television, and I'd make us a couple of sandwiches.

And perhaps some soup to go with our sandwiches.

I pulled on my shorts and went to the kitchen. And I stumbled upon a clue as to our activities of the previous night.

The fucking kitchen looked like a frat house after an eating contest. Empty chip bags, candy bar wrappers, pretty much the remains and scraps of anything edible were strewn around. But it gets worse.

As my eyes scanned the kitchen, I looked down at the tile when my eye caught a glimpse of something.

That was disgusting. Well, it would have been had it not been I who had deposited that DNA onto the floor.

Then a little bit of the previous night came (uh...) back to me. I kinda/sorta remembered us going into the kitchen and munching whatever we could find. And Stacy getting on her knees (apparently, Mr. Happy finds pot to be a stimulant) and started blowing me. And that's it. We either had sex on the kitchen floor or I got me an old-fashioned-between-snacks blow job.

Not that it mattered. I couldn't remember it. The tree fell in the forest with no one around.

I cleaned up my DNA (thank you, Pine-Sol--ta ta ta ta ta ta, Pine Sol!), straightened up the kitchen, and then created two grilled ham and cheese sammiches, as well as some towmayter soup.

Because when you're feeling fucked up, you need comfort food. And aspirin. Aspirin taken with said comfort food.  That way, you can get better and resume what you had previously been doing to get you fucked up again.

And that's right. I went old-school again with that Pine-Sol theme. I would've embedded a clip of one of those old commercials, but couldn't find any on YouTube. Just so you know that I did look. Remember: I went old school with that old Tootsie Pop commercial in the Josie entry.

Obviously, I'm all about old-school. How did I get on this?

Anyway, I brought our lunches into the bedroom and we talked as we ate. I mentioned my little kitchen discovery and she stopped talking for a few seconds and then nodded her head.

"Yeah....I kinda remember that. Blow job. We went in to get something to eat....you were hard....yeah...."
"Cool."
"Yeah."

At least I knew. Kind of.

We kicked back and watched some television for awhile and then headed back to the bedroom for a couple of hours of fun.
I actually remember that, but, I've already done the required blow-by-blow descriptions for the entry.

Get it? I'm funny.

But after the afternoon of lovin', we showered up again and I went out and got us some In N' Out.  We had planned on going dancing at a local club, but Stacy had a change of heart. She still wanted to dance, but she wanted to drive to Los Angeles and go to a club there.

Okay, I figured. It was only a forty minute drive, so why not? Not knowing all that much about Los Angeles nightlife, I called a buddy named Phil.

I had attended high school with Phil, and after graduating from high school, he enrolled at U.C.L.A. Surely, he would know. I was just hoping he was home. Unlike yours truly, Phil was a hard-working, smart student.

He was home. And he told me about a club in L.A. called "The Cusp" (long since closed). He and his girlfriend liked it and that was good enough for me.

Is it me, or does Englebert look A LOT like Stephen Seagal?

We hopped into my Chevy Nova and drove down. I knew the area fairly well and it wasn't too tough to find.

We went in and after a short wait, got a table and had a drink. And we danced (she could dance all night and shake the paint off the wall...).

And that's how we spent the next two hours. Well, I only had two drinks. But Stacy kept knocking them down. Finally, I suggested that we go out and get some air. Stacy agreed.

This was a good thing. Stacy had, among other things, stood on a table and laid down on the dance floor. She was also getting a bit loud. The bouncer was giving me the "dude, could you kind of get her out of here, she stopped being funny five shots ago" look. When he gave me that look, I gave him the "just give me a minute and we're gone" nod.

So we left.

We walked. And kept walking.  

About half a block down, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into an alley.

That's right: Alley sex.

I didn't particularly think going into an alley was all that safe. But it sorta, kinda looked safe from what I could see.

We didn't go too far in and stopped in front of a dumpster (ah, romance....). Stacy crouched down, took Mr. Happy out and got him nice and hard. Then she took some lubricant out of her purse and got him all done slickered up. Pretty cool stuff, too; Mr. Happy loved how warm it was and sent me a memo about how this proves that we needed to get our own hot tub.

Hey, I don't know how or why he thought of that, so don't ask me.

Then he sent me another note: "We're doing this in a fucking alley? You're standards get lower by the minute, loser." I told him to shut the fuck up and concentrate.

Stacy turned around and braced herself against the dumpster. Hey, you gotta use whatever tools are at your disposal, I guess.

I lifted up Stacy's dress and slid right in. I can't say it was really great sex. We were in an alley right next to a dumpster. My only concern was getting the whole thing over with and getting us out of there and back to the car.

So I really didn't care if Stacy came or not. Usually this is a concern. Not this time. And I don't think Stacy really cared either. Just a minute after we started, she was encouraging me to cum. And it didn't take long for me to oblige.

And I took Mr. Happy out and did to the alley what I was sure I had done to Ronnie's tile. Stacy turned around, kissed me, and said, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Then she puked. Yeah, that's the effect I have on people. Hey, sometimes I even make myself sick.  The best part was that she didn't even puke in the dumpster.  It would have been awesome if she had hurled into a parked BMW.

We drove back to Ronnie's and Stacy passed out on the bed the second she walked into the bedroom. I took a quick shower and joined her.

The next day, she wasn't even hungover. We spent the day eating and fucking (not at the same time) and kicking back. And Stacy even got the full version of the Pilot. 

Ronnie got back on Monday and spent the week hanging out with her buddy. But Ronnie was always uber-cool and I got to go over a couple of times for some bonus fun with Stacy.

Ronnie always had my back.  Even after Ronnie and I ended our relationship in 1984, Stacy and I continued to see each other on occasion.  I would have loved to have fucked her at least once a week, but she had a job, a family, and lived over two hours away.

Still, we did make the effort to see each other for some fun.  No drinking or pot, just sex.  Sometimes she'd drive up, but mostly I'd drive down or we'd meet in south Orange County.  In 1986, we ended it.  She and her husband started divorce proceedings and with all that was going on, hooking up with me was just a complication for her.  We did stay in touch for many years through the mail and some phone calls.

In 1992, she got married to a guy she started dating after the divorce.  In 1992, she and her new husband and their blended family moved up to Seattle.


I never did tell Ronnie about the Mop N' Glow job I did in her kitchen.

For Stacy's pictures, click here (members only).