California Dreamin’ – 1982 to 1984 – Shira – Persian Beauty

“…Her brown body, drenched in sweat as she rode me like a stolen horse.”

Oh… this one takes me back. I love this story!

(This post is not safe for work! NSFW! You’ve been warned!)

I was living in Santa Monica, playing in a band back in ’82 just living the rock n’ roll dream. I was working at that time as a busboy at a place called Cafe Casino in Wilshire Palisades in Santa Monica. Shira came in a few times to dine with her friends. Because of all of the shit at that time in Iran with the Shah, we had a lot of Persian people immigrating to America. Mostly California. If you look back in history, you’ll see that’s how the Kardashians got here.

I was a guitarist in a struggling band and a lowly busboy by day and flirted with Shira when she came in. I guess she liked my long blonde hair and fresh face and took a shine to me. She lived up in Brentwood which isn’t too far from me, but far enough way to be exclusive. We chatted a bit and exchanged numbers. I liked that she was dark, foreign and different from the usual girls I dated.

She and her girlfriends came out to see our band but nothing ever came out of it. She was lovely but I think I was just distracted from all the fleas and ticks of rock and roll at the time in early eighties Los Angeles.

One night we actually talked for six hours on the phone (9pm-3am) and she invited me to her house the next day for dinner to see if we liked each other in person. I agreed to go over. I was so naive back then.

So I go there and as soon as I walk in the door, she sniffs me and says “Last night on the phone, I just wanted to inhale you through the line”

And I was like “Yeah, we got on pretty well.”

“Is this your own place?

It is, Chaz

(Yes!)

She looks smoking hot and middle eastern sultry and I’m down for whatever. I just think she’s really pretty. I don’t know any better. She’s wearing a light blue blouse and really small white shorts and high heel sandals. Her long caramel legs are making me crazy. I’m 19 years old and this is all new ground for the boy I once was. She’s absolutely lovely and exotic. I don’t know any girls like her back home.

So we sit on the sofa, have a drink and are talking a while. She hops up from her end of the sofa and says “I want to smell you again”.

OK. So she straddles me and puts her nose deep into my neck and starts breathing in really deep. So I kissed her neck and she goes,”ahhhhhhhhh”. So I kept kissing her neck and shoulders, she starts doing the same to me. Next thing we’re French kissing,

Awesome, I’m a teenager, I love deep tongues. I was really enjoying it. Next she lays down on the sofa, I get on top of her and start kissing her again. One thing leads to another and we go to the bedroom and take turns giving each other oral. It was great. She had a raging orgasm and then teased me for what seemed like an hour until I had a huge orgasm too.

We end up having mind bending sex. She’s almost brutally sexual. Her brown body, drenched in sweat as she rides me like a stolen horse.

I have never met anyone like Shira, and girls back home don’t possess the kind of sexual prowess when it comes to staving off an orgasm and then coming like a freight train blasting through a forgotten station.

We made dinner together, pasta with pesto and truffle oil, with some really good parmesan, shared a bottle of wine and chatted on. Eventually we go to the bedroom again and had some crazy good sex and more oral in between. Great, intense, passionate sex.

Then we’re lying there, kissing and talking and she says:

“What am I going to do? I just took a six month lease on this place”.

Well, it’d be a good idea to pay your rent.”

“Well, that would be wasteful seeing as I’ll be living with you now”.

“Well, no, I think we should see each other as much as we can, and maybe have the odd sleepover and see how things work out”.

“But things did work out, I let you into my vagina, you’re mine now.”

I thought she was kidding.

“Well, if it’s important to you, you can call me your boyfriend, but you don’t own me.”

She started screaming, insulting me in Arabic, raving… (Which is kind of hot because it’s way before 9/11)

“Whoa, whoa, we just had sex, we’re not married. Sure we got into sex quickly, but hell, we met at a restaurant. I’m a musician. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“You said you take sex seriously, so do I. I only have sex with someone I’m in a relationship with, so this means we’re in a relationship and you said you wanted someone to live with and be happy with. I will cook your meals, clean your house, take care of our children. I want a child of my own soon.”

Holy crap… I agreed that we should keep talking, but I had to go home… I dressed and said good-bye. To her it was like seeing off a lover who was travelling overseas for a few years, massive hugs and kisses.

“Call me tomorrow???”

“Okay…. Okay…”

It was a moonless night, midnight, pitch black and pissing down with rain and I had to drive for 90 minutes on narrow, winding  roads in the Hollywood hills in my old ’69 VW  van. Because no one can drive in the rain in L.A. By the time I got home, white knuckled from gripping the wheel it was late, nearly 2am.

I woke up around 9am, my phone was ringing non stop and I answer it.

“I don’t appreciate this lack of communication. You are going to have to improve. You can’t treat me like shit after I’ve had you in my home, fed you, given you my vagina”

“I just woke up. Why did you call me so many times?

“ARE YOU CALLING ME CRAZY? I AM NOT CRAZY JUST BECAUSE I EXPECT SOME COMMUNICATION FROM MY MAN!!!!”.

At this stage, we’d known each other’s first names for like 36 hours.

We phoned on and off for like a week, me trying to increase the number of fights so she’d give up on me. About three days in, we’re arguing on the phone and I hear her moaning and stuff. She was fighting with me while masturbating.

Had to write her off.

Back then it was so much easier to cut off the crazy. I’m just glad her family didn’t hunt me down and cut my hands off… or worse!

But I will leave you with this lasting memory that has haunted me all of my days in a good way.

When Shira and I would have mad sex, she would get really sweaty. I like that. I like everything that happens to the woman I’m with during sex no matter what. But her sweat smelled like lawnmower exhaust. It had that hot, sexy, oily, burning with gas mixture kind of smell. I think it may have been from her diet, but I don’t care. It was real and I liked it.

For weeks after that whenever my neighbors mowed their lawn, I’d get a massive erection.

I wish that last part of this story wasn’t true. But it is!

Fuck you Pavlov.

 

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Author: phicklephilly

Copyright © 2016 by Phicklephilly All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. All stories and characters are based on real people and events. The names and images have been changed to protect their privacy. Comment Rules: Remember what Fonzie was like? Cool. That’s how we’re gonna be — cool. Critical is fine, but if you’re rude, we’ll delete your stuff. Please do not put your URL in the comment text and please use your PERSONAL name or initials and not your business name, as the latter comes off like spam. Have fun and thanks for adding to the conversation!”

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