Paul & Brian & Karen

Karen was just what the doctor ordered.

So who's Karen? And Paul and Brian, for that matter?

Well, these are the major players in my first one-night stand. From the time I broke up with Jilly until I met my husband, I was extremely promiscuous. Actually, I was promiscous before Jilly and remain so to this day. I know that you already knew that, but there's a lot of stuff I haven't gone into yet (like my pre-Jilly adventures). Yeah, I've made mention of a few things, but not all. And I'm sure a few things will surprise you.



All in good time. :)


Anyway, that first one-night stand really started my post-jilly sexual "career", for lack of a better word.

A couple of weekends after Jilly moved away in August,1989, I was really down. And I just wanted to be with a girl. That or just get fucking drunk. And my aunt and uncle probably weren't going to tolerate me pounding down beers in my room all night.

I wasn't ready for a guy at that time. I was 18 and had been with Jilly for a year and a half. I really wanted to stay as close to my comfort zone as I could. I wanted to be comforted and held and loved, even if it was only for one night. It wasn't so much about the sex as it was about being close to someone.

So I grabbed my fake ID (how ironic it was that Jilly had it gotten for me while we were together) and told my aunt and uncle that I was spending the night over at Wendy's (a straight, platonic friend) and headed down to Robbie's, a local gay bar.

Wendy was a great friend. And I knew I could count on her for a ride home if I was too drunk to drive.

As it was, I wouldn't need her. Or a cab.

So I got to Robbie's and after the bouncer gave me a bit of a "I know that you're not really 21, but fuck it, go on in" look, I went in and grabbed a stool.

I sat down and started nursing a Bud Light. I was a total lightweight with alcohol. I just didn't/couldn't drink that much. If I had too much too fast, I would be calling Ralph on the porcelain phone. The only thing I could really hit hard was wine coolers. Those I could get a little drunk on. Er, a lot drunk.

But wine coolers just weren't the right things to drink in the mood I was in. A wine cooler is a laid-back, relaxing social drink. No, when you're sad, you need some fucking beer, whiskey, etc....

A wine cooler is just not the drink to feel depressed and sorry for yourself with. I mean, how do you curse your luck when swigging a strawberry wine cooler? I'd also add that I can drink margaritas as well, but they're sort of like wine coolers taste-wise. With a lot of ice and salt.

So we've established that I prefer wine coolers and margaritas. I bet you're relieved to know that, huh?

So it was beer. And call me weird, but I really don't enjoy barfing, so I was nursing it.

The place was full of guys. I like gay guys. They're always nice and several came up just to say hi and see if I was okay (I really must have had a hangdog look on my face).

One guy came over with his boyfriend.

"Now what's a pretty little thing like you so sad about?"

That made me giggle. AND I just met the two guys who would introduce me to my hubby a few years later. How cool is that?

They sat down and we chatted for about an hour and they made me laugh and feel a lot better. They told me about their heartbreaks and disappointments and all of a sudden, I felt a little less alone and a lot less like a failure.

Their names were (and still are, come to think of it) Paul and Brian. They were celebrating their one-year anniversary with a few drinks and dances. And each one insisted that I dance with them.

So I did as ordered. Great dancers.

And another hour passed. I felt so bad. Here these two great guys were trying to celebrate their anniversary at the place they originally met, and they were counseling a psychotic bi blond. I told them to go celebrate and not to waste their time on me.

Of course, secretly, I was hoping and praying they wouldn't listen. And they didn't. LOL

The night flew. On a purely selfish level, I loved having two engaging, gorgeous, well-manned guys paying attention to me. Them being gay didn't matter. It was extremely flattering and much-needed.

And they also snapped me--somewhat--out of the Jilly Blues. Paul reassured me that I'd find the person I was supposed to be with. When I replied that I thought I already had and lost her, Brian said, "If that was the case, she wouldn't have gone, or you would've gone with her. You two knew something was wrong but couldn't admit it or were afraid to hurt the other by admitting it."

Okay, that last quote was paraphrased, but you get the gist.

He was right, of course. I didn't act--nor did Jilly--when the time came to put up or shut up about staying together. And I'm glad he called me on it. It made me look hard at what I had been denying--I really didn't want us to stay together, and neither did Jilly.

And forced to look at it from an outsider's perspective, man I really looked like I was pulling the victim card.

They had to split around eleven. Paul owned his own business and Brian was a radiologist at a local hospital and had to be at work the following day around noon. So they hugged me and kissed me and gave me their number in case I ever needed to talk. And they also insisted on my number.

And with a gentle warning to not stay late and to be careful, they left.

I ran to the little lesbian's room and straightened myself up. I had downed about four beers that night. Safe to say, I was legal to drive home. I could just tell my aunt and uncle that I wasn't feeling well and wanted to come home from Wendy's.

I went back to my seat and took the last gulp of beer. I gave a big smile to the bartender and told him to have a great night. And I was relieved in a way. Jilly and I had been monogamous during our time together, and she had been my first.

So I was a tad apprehensive about the whole picking up a girl and having cheap, tawdry, sex with her. Of course, I managed to overcame that pretty easily and quickly in my post-Jilly life. But I wasn't at that point that night.

I turned to leave when I heard a girl say, "Leaving so soon? Without giving me a chance to chat?"

Sorry sister. Thanks to two guys, I not only didn't need to get drunk, I didn't need to get a girl into bed either. I turned and looked at this absolutely gorgeous girl.

Uh, check that whole not needing to get a girl into bed thing. Remember, it's always important to be flexible and have the ability to adapt to different situations.

Ahem.

So I decided to be all cool and shit and act like I knew what the fuck I was doing.

"Oh? You think you have a shot with me?" I smirked (I was trying not to laugh as I said that).

She burst out laughing. "Hilarious! What's your name, beautiful?"

"Alex," I replied.
"Karen. Buy you a drink?"

We sat down and chatted. She was down from UC Berkley, visiting with family and friends and was due to drive back the next day. She thought that since her parents were out and she had the house to herself for the night, that she'd try and find some company.

You know me. Always happy to oblige.

We chatted and flirted for about half an hour, and then Karen smiled and said, "Wanna come home with me?" I told her yes, that I'd love to. And she leaned over and kissed me. Our tongues pushed against the other and then she gently stroked my face.

Her parents lived in Claremont, which was a happy coincidence. So I knew exactly where her street was. We went into the parking lot, holding hands, and then we kissed again. This time, our hands were playing a little grab-ass with each other. I was so turned on.


We got back to Karen's place and drank some beers and made out. We were both pretty drunk after awhile. Finally, Karen got up and extended her hand and we went into her bedroom.


And I wish I had a better recollection of what happened that night. I do remember a few things. I remember us stripping down and Karen sucking breasts and fingering me as we stood by the foot of her bed. I remember I came fast, and I came hard.


And I remember laying down on my back while she straddled my face and we ate each other out.


We pretty much went at it for several hours. Fingering, kissing, going down on each other, tribbing, dildos, all that. Karen even used a strap-on on me. That was the first time I had that done to me and I came so hard, I thought I'd pass out.


I do remember one weird thing. Well, kinda weird.


It was around 2:30, I think. Maybe. Anyway, at one point, Karen was spread out on her bed and I was sliding two fingers in and out of her pussy. Anyway, Karen's sliding closet doors were comprised of two full-length mirrors.


The whole time we were fucking, Karen kept urging me to let loose, to just let myself go and enjoy her without hesitation. To fuck her like there was no tomorrow. Basically, she just wanted me to "be a fucking animal, baby."


So there I was, sliding my fingers in and out of her. She was yelling and crying out and begging me to make her cum again. And I was going faster and harder and loving it. And I looked at my reflection and was amazed at what I saw.


My hair was all messed up--so was my makeup--my mouth was hanging open, and I honestly looked like a she-wolf. Well, not literally. But I had never experienced raw, hot, lesbian-sex-for-the-sake-of-lesbian-sex before. And fuck, I looked like a lesbian porn star on coke! I can't even describe how wild I looked.


And fuck....that just turned me on even more.


I remember straddling Karen's face and pulling her face into my pussy. I told her to slide her finger in my ass while she ate me. I was totally over my original nerves. I was loving every second of this. And while she sucked my clit, I kept thinking how cheap this was. And that got me even hotter. I came and Karen playfully shoved me off of her and crawled on top of me. We made out for several minutes before passing out.


We woke up around 11:00 the next morning. We were totally fucked up. Karen laughed and said she'd have to drive back up to Berkley the following day instead. She also said that she wished I could stay in her room and "fuck the shit" of her for the rest of the day.


Yeah, Karen had quite a mouth on her. LOL


Sadly, her parents were due home around 12:30. So I staggered into the bathroom and took a shower. I remember thinking about how while casual sex was obviously a blast, it would be tough to only live from one night stand to one night stand. Karen had no use for relationships. She loved sex and wanted to be tied to nobody. I remember thinking how sad that was. Something must have really hurt her.

I remember her talking about being in love once and that she'd "never make that mistake again."


The irony, of course, is that for the next few years, I pretty much lived the same lifestyle that she did. Of course, when I met the right person, I jumped on him (so to speak). But what was consoling to me while the hot water ran down my exhausted, hungover body, was that I wasn't going to commit to the solitary existence that Karen seemed to be intent on.


I remember aching all over. And I remember thinking about how I was paying the price for a night of fun. It was worth it. Yeah, I did get drunk after all--something I hadn't planned on--but at least I didn't throw up. I did, however, have a pounding headache.


I was 18, hungover, and Karen had worked me over so hard I was sore. It was a great sore. I loved it. And I loved the fact that I would probably never see her again. And I kind of hated that fact, too.


I wrapped a towel around myself and went back into Karen's room. The bed, needless to say, was in shambles.

So I made up Karen's bed. She would have had to change the sheets, of course. But I just felt like it was the right thing to do. She came in and smiled. She was stark naked. I asked her if it was okay to get a pic to remember her by. Okay, so I already had one. But I wanted one of her naked. Besides, she already had snapped a couple of me. So I grabbed her Polaroid and clicked one.


She asked why I wanted one of her naked. I told her that I wanted to masturbate to it later. She liked that. She liked it a lot. And later that night, alone in my bedroom, I did masturbate to that picture.


I gave her the camera and sat on the edge of her bed with my legs spread wide open and smiled. Karen took a shot of me for her...."remembering".


She jumped into the shower. I started getting dressed. It felt weird. I was pulling up my panties, putting on my bra, then my jeans, and finally my shirt. And I had been so used to getting dressed with you-know-who. Everything was different, and everything seemed weird.


I had picked up a complete stranger and let loose on her the whole night. I never got her last name and she never got mine. I got fucked with toys I hadn't been fucked with before. I came more than I ever had ever come in a night.


In one of my hubby's entries on a one-night stand, he makes mention of why he thinks they can be so hot. He theorizes that since you know that you'll never see that person again, you want to get the most out of them and for them to do the same. I agree with that to a point.


I think the one-nighters are also hot because you're more free, in a sense. You know that you're not going to see that person again so you can let loose. Whatever the case, they can be extremely satisfying.


Karen got out of the shower and I walked over and kissed her. We thanked each other and I told her that I'd let myself out.

At Karen's parents' place. "Bring it baby!"

So I went home and crashed for a few hours. When I woke up, I did and then some laundry. I thought I'd feel cheap and slutty. I didn't. I felt free. It was weird, though. I had been only with Jilly prior to Karen and had attached so much emotion and intimacy to sex. And I had just experienced a night that was about anything but caring and emotional intimacy.


Ah, the true experience of a one-night stand. And that showed me the meaning of sex for the sake of sex. And I loved it. Well, aside from the feeling like I had somehow betrayed Jilly, I did. I cringed at what she would've thought about that.


But I told myself that I never betrayed her. We had broken up. So why the fuck was I feeling guilty? She was in NYC, and I had every right to do what I did. I was happy, relaxed, and a ton of tension had melted away because of Karen. I had taken the first step in my post-Jilly sex life. And that first step was a doozy.


I really liked what I had done. Remember, I had been a scared, confused girl when I fell in love with Jilly. But going out and picking up some stranger was exciting. It was daring. It was hot. And yeah, it was probably a little dumb. I got lucky when I found Paul, Brian, and then Karen.


It also got me very, very interested in pursuing more casual sexual encounters. I went back to that bar the next weekend. And I found a sweet little wife who wanted to be with a girl. She got her wish. A lot of wives did. A lot of husbands did. A lot of single men and women did.


I spent the next several years having a lot of fun. No strings, no commitment, just sex. I had been active with guys before meeting Jilly and started that up again. And my raging promiscuity really kinda fucked up my ability to have a normal romantic relationship, needless to say.


So what happened to Karen?


No clue. She never called me. I didn't think that she would, though. That night was about fucking, not finding a BFF. But it would've been fun to play with her again. She was amazing in bed. And I'm sure a lot of other lucky girls found that out as well.

But I've always hoped that she did heal from whatever hurt her and that she did find someone else. Fuck, I don't know if she even remembers me. But if she does, I hope that she remembers that night as fondly as I do.

The morning after....not QUITE as fired up. LOL "Ohhhhh....my head...."

What's funny is that I went that night looking for comfort. And I got that comfort. From two guys. Karen? She gave me the sexual release I needed so badly but that was about it.


Little did Paul and Brian know that the little blond girl they befriended would never let them out of her life. No, they were stuck with me. I kind of became their adopted little sister. I drove them crazy, of course.

But hey, that's what adopted little sisters are for, aren't they?