Memories of Some of the Smaller Ones, Two Greats and the One That Got Away and Will Be On My Mind On My Deathbed:
Maybe Chapter Two, or Just Another Story

by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid

SO, HALF OF MY LIFE IS DONE (I’m still a ‘glass half full’ sort of gal, though) and I’ve been musing on what I want to do with the rest of my life. What might be making me smile when that day comes that ‘The Big D’ catches this kid. A few very special moments came to mind, including surprisingly a few who this ‘size queen’ still puts five stars by in her mental ‘little black book’. One was a Vietnamese guy I nicknamed ‘Chili Pepper’ because he made me so hot in the sheets. Not huge, but hotcha, what a lover that one was, if only for a brief moment. Then there was the young, Nepalese dude who I met at a fundraiser/party for Tibet, back in the ‘90s (when Seattle still had a soul), who kissed me so hard and long that I wore a blue/purple bruise on my lip for a week (I kid you not!).

Then there are the ‘greats’, like the person I nicknamed ‘Peter The Great’, because, well, he was. He also forever made me love the Piscean tribe. There was a certain Japanese gentleman who made me scream so hard and long during one of THE best orgasms I’ve ever had that I’m sure all of Broadway heard me from my little room that used to be above where some crappy, strip mall type businesses are now. He’s why Cancerian men are still tops on this female’s list of faves in the sack. This was during what I now think of as my ‘Asian’ period, which also included another Cancerian, all of 22 when I met him, with whom I fought as much as screwed. We made noise that made my neighbors complain.

Ah, but The One, the person I’ll always think of as my ‘second great love’ (my ex, my daughter’s dad is the first one, and that, dear reader is another story for another day), changed my whole world around. A soldier boy, on leave for the weekend, we met at my favorite ‘hot spot’ for sexual hookups, The Wet Spot. Long story short, he was shy but the will of myself and a female play/friend was stronger, so we tangoed horizontally. Then, one night I took him home and we ‘did the deed’ in every position two humans can get into (anyone remember that scene from Sex And The City, where one of the characters takes home a busboy from a restaurant?) for four solid hours. True, my dears and it was turning daylight when, like two exhausted puppies, we slept. The next day will always be anchored in my mind by the remembered sight of my new lover’s absolutely gorgeous (and humongous!) erection, standing like a salute to me and all of nature everywhere. I felt like singing the song from ‘Young Frankenstein’ that Madeleine Kahn did so well, “Ah, Sweet Mystery Of Youth…” There’s nothing like a 23 year old in the morning after a night of truly blissful orgasms.

Still, it was our second night together at my place, after some interesting switch play at The Wet Spot that’ll be making me smile as I’m sliding to the other side. That’s the night I actually punched my own self in the nose, flailing my arms about as my inventive and always attentive to details, young lover used some toy on me (without my seeing it of course since my eyes were closed). Did that stop the fun? No, even though my ears rang and for half a minute, I thought my nose would start bleeding because I really gave myself a good punch. Nope, I kept on riding my sweet stallion. He pumped and I rode myself to seven orgasms in a row. That’s the night I honestly felt like every deity in the universe joined hands in my room and joined in one big shout of ‘yee haw!’ I wept like Stella in that scene from When Stella Got Her Groove Back when she’s being happily satisfied by a young Taye Diggs. My nose hurt afterwards but as I got him there, hours later, I didn’t care. That memory will go to my grave as the best one in my entire life, even if, after he returns from Iraq (where he is now), I never see him again. This, I shamelessly tell you!