Last night, I had very vivid dream. The dream had also a wonderful emotional quality that makes want to get back into it. In that dream, I was expecting to go on a boat cruise very soon. The wonderful feeling was not so much that I love cruises. The wonderful feeling was that I was having a very great feeling of looking forward to something. It was not overly excited. It was more like a very happy humming inside of me, kind of rather than jumping up and down a more feeling good all over.

Why is that so special? Because in real life about all my adventures are preceded by a lot of dread and anxiety. It is horrible. I will be anxious, if I can really make the adventure. I am anxious about people etc.

In that dream, I saw the cruise in my minds eye and I knew that everything would be super without reservation. I would meet cool people at the pool and in the bar. I would feel comfortable aboard the ship. I would have really interesting geographic observation of the coast line from the boat. I would go on fun hikes in different types of terrain, as we stop along the route. There was wonderful anticipation and not a single bit of anxiety or dread.

The dream had me driving towards a gas station. I waited for a car to exit. It was a little car driven by an old grey haired lady. The car leaned to its side. It leaned even more than I had seen any other car leaning. I could not believe that it seemed like the car would roll over any moment without any speed or real slope. It did. The old woman had managed to roll her little car onto the side simply with the curb. I drove closer to get out and help her. As I drove closer, I had to look, where I was going. When I looked back, there was a larger red SUV with a middle aged woman. I still asked, if that woman needed help. The woman was confused. Apparently, when I had looked away, the old woman must have rolled back on her tires and left. I tried to explain it, yet my mouth would only produce a word instead of a sentence. So, the middle aged woman remained puzzled. After trying a couple times to talk, I simply waved off and she left. My thoughts went back to the anticipation of the cruise. I started feeling warm all over. I would get to leave my day to day life for a place, where everything would be good.

Next, I found myself back at my old employer’s office on the way to the cruise ship. A moment before, I had been rummaging through my teenage day’s at my ma’s house shelf to find the cruise papers with the details of time and how to prepare. In that office, I checked something on the computer, knowing that I would not work there. There was a co-worker, my old boss came. And, somehow, I was employed there again. I panicked that I did not want to work at that place anymore. I resigned, realizing that a paycheck would be good. Plus, I had the next two weeks on the cruise to fully restore my happiness.

I grew excited about collecting my last things. Evening dawn had fallen. I knew that the cruise was close. The ship would leave around midnight. I was collecting my things. Most fondly, I was bringing my car. The ship was so huge and had so much space that people could bring their car to drive around in exotic locations. The feeling of 0% dread was so wonderful.

I woke up and still had that warm yummy feeling in my skin. I wondered, where that feeling had gone in real life. About everything that I did lately was preceded by so much dread and worry. Is it that as I got older, I got more discriminate? Before living on my own, I never noticed that places were dirty and about every hotel was awesome. About every food was awesome and new. Now, I look at hotel rooms. I can see that they are worn. I see the exploitive and mind numbing labor that people there have to go through. I worry about getting exhausted or missing the best part. People, I do not look warmly and fondly forward to people. I worry about the tension. I worry about, how to introduce myself. I worry that they are boring. There is so much tension and anxiety. The dream had none, zero. Where did that wonderful feeling of anticipation and enjoyment go?

[Addition]
While taking a shower, I thought a bit more about the change in my life from no dread to a lot of dread. As a teenager, I had a much simpler few of the world. Going to Spain, meant going to see all the stereotypes about Spain: The beaches, hot women, etc. It did not matter, what you did. As soon as you stepped on the land, all of that would surround you. The whole challenge was finding the hotel and finding your way to the attraction. Obviously, navigating is not a problem for me.

Nowadays, I do worry about dealing with the receptionist. The receptionist is no longer the person that automatically hands the key. It is a person that may create issues like wrong bookings. It is a person-person that hopefully likes me. How, do I get the hot receptionist to smile at me? I realize that simply stepping foot in a country, no longer means all the good stereotypes. There are bad issues in the country as well. There are bad hotels. How do I find decent food? Not all attractions are awesome, how do I find the hidden gem? Now, that I book my own hotels, I know the dread that goes with searching site after site for a good deal only to find that the same hotel was available somewhere else for 20% off.

Another big thing is something that I experienced last week. Last week, I had a good day. I woke up. I felt like I could deal with things. I had extra pep to make funny comments. This is not something in my head. It is simply my body telling me: "I feel great and I am ready to tackle the day." I have other days, where my back hurts and my whole body is so tense and fragile, like it could shatter easily. Those days, everything becomes harder and less fun. I have some control about, how my body feels with exercise and food. Yet, a much larger part simply seems to be luck and good health. I can see, how some lucky people simply wake up great every day. That's why they are cheery. I can see how other people wake up with chronic severe headaches each day. It is not their fault that they are not positive enough for not being cheery. Yeah, how your body feels makes a huge difference.

Lately, I have been on my own at home. I went through a phase of physical ailments. They started clearing up and I felt like not doing much. It freaked me out. At the same time, I noticed that as I allowed myself to waste day after day, my body started healing up. I also noticed that I got more pep. The other day, I caught myself adding little hops to my way down the stairs. It is almost as, if I had been so exhausted that I became a kind of robot. With that I mean, my mind would focus on getting something done. My body would follow instructions to complete it. Yet, I did not have any of that fluffy fun along the way or little embellishments. By doing nothing, I notice those little impulses to smile or a wicked emotion coming back. I notice that in the kitchen, I don’t just mechanically cut the vegetables, I actually enjoy twisting my body around to reach for a sauce pan like a ballerina. I almost wonder, if that is the reason, why people sometimes said that I was robotic. I always thought, they’d say that, because my body is so stiff that it moves as awkward as a robot, or because I think things through so well and do it in such a planned fashion.

Marinating in my own juices at home, let me taste a little bit the fabric that is underlying my actions. And, there are two big things that I still carry from childhood with my step dad. I don’t quite understand them. I have a therapist appointment tomorrow. I doubt that he will perfectly dissect and explain. However, I hope that he will have some interesting nuggets of thought to get a new perspective.

The first pattern is that I get emotionally exhausted in specific situations with people. It most particularly happens, when I am in a class and disagree with the teacher. I have read and listened to so much advice. I have found out that much advice only sounds good. People only repeat it, because it sounds good. Actually, following is painful. I tried it and figured out, why it hurts. So, being in classes, where you are forced to listen, I find myself disagreeing with the teacher. I understand why there is a tug to believe in it. At the same time, I know the kind of pain that it will cause. So, when you listen to someone, your mind kind of speaks along the words that it hears to decipher the meaning. “Marie is pretty.” If you disagree with it, your mind has to counter, what it just silently said: “Marie is pretty ugly. I don’t like her strained face and stilted way of dressing.”

It takes a bit of effort to disagree, when someone is talking empathetically in front of the class room. It takes discomfort to disagree with someone, who has more credentials. It takes effort to disagree with someone, when you came to learn from them. It takes effort to disagree with someone, when they grade you later. I get rubbed up by all of that strain. After an hour or two, I can be very emotionally raw.

I kind of trace that back to the experiences that I had with my stepdad. He’d come to my room and start lecturing me on something. One day, he lectured me that a friend, who had just left would only hang out with me, because he was trying to profiteer something from me. He would not like me at all. In a certain way, all of our motivations can be broken down in certain goal oriented motives: 10% social company, 20% love playing soccer, 30% … the painful aspect with my step dad was that his message was that my friend did not care about me at all. He was ‘unconsciously’ some scrupulous operator out there to extract something from me. I did not like the idea that my friend would not like me and we had no such thing as friendship.

My step dad’s explanation was that he was eager to be with me, because I could so completely and totally relax. My step dad did not mean totally relax in some blissful spa way. He meant it in a way of utterly spoiled, unambitious, and useless. That was a completely new concept about me. I could not quite get the point of do-nothing, when we just returned from a heated and sweaty racquetball match.

At first, I’d weakly refute my step dad’s claim, “oh, no, he does like me.” My step dad kept berating me. I grew quiet. I tried not to hear him. I tried to refute everything that he said in my head. 20 minutes or half hour later, I don’t remember, I broke down. I felt horrible. I could not control myself. Tears ran down my face. My face was quivering. Something in me broke out of control. I ran away looking for a hiding spot.

That whole deal with my step dad happened over and over every few weeks for my whole childhood. I don’t have much memories of being in my single digits. However, it seems that in the beginning, I had a natural healthy reaction to that behavior, until I was worn down. Apparently, as a little kid, I kicked my step dad once. ‘Fuck you’ is the only healthy reaction to that kind of behavior.

There is a strong parallel between someone telling me something that I don’t agree with and listening to my step dad’s abuse.

This leads us to the second pattern that I’d like to figure out. After such an episode, I’d swear that I’d never talk to him again or associate with him. In the beginning, it lasted maybe a day. After getting more verbal abuse, I might get more disciplined and ‘outcast’ him for a week or two. However, there is a natural social tendency about human beings. I’d always warm up. I’d share something exciting with him. I’d offer him something for dinner. As the say, there is sunshine after rain, I’d forget about the last berating yelling and live my life free and in the moment. Precisely, at that point, my step dad would decide to have the next session. It’s like training being carefree, joyful, and in the moment out of me.

As I reflected, I thought that it might be a weird coincidence or distortion of memory. However, last spring during his visit in America, we had a chat about that. Actually, he had a chat about himself and his therapy progress. He shared that he does not feel free. From his dad, he was mad to feel that he always has the need to justify whatever he does. He said that he brought girls home as a teenagers. The neighbors saw it and gave his ma crap about it. After a question of mine, he proposed that perhaps, seeing me free and in the moment, triggered anger in him.

In general, I feel pretty unfree and inhibited. There was recently a comedy sketch on the Internet. It was a fake news about the dangerous effects of being stoked. They parodies people being so stoked that they’d give high fives to their friends and cheer. I feel completely scared about behavior that is such unjustifiable and daring that other people will accept it. How embarrassing would it be, if your high five got meet with a cold stare or everyone around you got queasy looking at their shoes.

There is another aspect to it. My step dad startled me often with his intense anger coming out of completely nowhere, the blue sky. Nowadays, when there is a sudden loud noise or event, I immediately shriek and expect some torrential trouble until I catch myself and logically talk myself out of the fear. For example, I will play music at conversation level. I hear a loud noise in the neighbor’s apartment. I immediately panic thinking that the neighbor is upset about the music and I will be in massive trouble without a chance of escaping. Then, I have to tell myself that A) the music is not blaring. Making a certain amount of noise during daylight hours is normal. B) The neighbor is not my step dad. The neighbor has no right yelling at me. If there is a noise issue, we can talk about it respectfully and resolve it. Chances are that most people are noise and would be rather timid about bringing it up, than raging bulls.

It wastes a lot of energy to go through those panic attacks so often.

I just feel like there were moments with so much hate/anger directed at me. I remember this one episode as a kid. I was perhaps barely in elementary school. I had learned the new skill of opening the car door for people, letting them seat themselves, and closing the door. Well, this one day on our way out to a weekend afternoon trip, my ma sat down. For whatever reason, she was very slow. I closed the car door too early and hit her shin. My step dad was so furious. I could see in his face that he wanted to tear me apart and attack me. There was not even 0% of caring for me or love. That’s why I always felt uncomfortable calling him ‘daddy’ or the like. He did not act to deserve such a title other than we my mother! In my mind, I realized that looking for and waiting for both feet to be in the car is important. It just never came to my mind before. What can you expect at that age? You gotta mess up at some point to realize. My step dad’s rage was totally out of proportion for what had happened. And, the message was that he did not give a fuck about me and only cared for my ma.

The step dad, he is human, perhaps not the most sage, angelic, and saintly being. Yet, there are assholes in the world. There are misfortunate circumstances. There are circumstances that work fine for one person and devastated the other person. Writing this is not about having a guilty person. It’s about wanting to move on. I don’t want to continue still reacting to my step dad, living most of my life shaped by what happened years ago. I want to understand the dynamics of that stuff, what it does to the mind. Perhaps, understanding so will help me get other people better.

My dreams last night were unremarkable again: not particularly exciting, nothing fascinating about it, and not very vivid.

In the first dream, I was in an old fashioned health food store. The store shelves were made from dark, old wood. The floor had stone tiles. My plastic shopping basket was in front of me. It was filled about a third. A middle aged man stepped right over my basket. I didn’t like that and I protested. His young kid, who could barely walk, did not even have shoes and only socks. The kid followed and stepped right into my basket, right into my raspberries and strawberries. Those turned into mush and juice. I was exasperated that the rudeness went to the highest level. The two women behind were a bit speechless about what to do. I handed them the mashed produce. On second inspection, there was no point in salvaging anything out of my shopping basket. I left them the whole thing and walked away. They apologized with a word. I thought, what is the point of even saying anything. I have to cut my losses and start over. Those two women won’t make any difference. And, as I haven’t paid for the groceries yet, the damage is between them and the store.

In the next dream, I was inside one of those cavernous vans. I was all the way in the back leaning about the back seats of the row in front of me. The van was inside of a building, which seemed to have stadium seating or something similar. I did not really see the seats. I saw the wide aisle with linoleum floor for the crowd to move. The van was flush to the right side of it. A little bit behind was an intersection with another walkway. Our walkway did not continue straight. It was offset by a couple yards to the right. My job was to back the van out of this. The first part of going back carefully was kind of easy. The hard part was to maneuver the big thing through the offset. What made it even harder was that I was controlling the van from all the way in the back, far away from the pedals, break, and steering wheel.

Just as I reached the toughest point, the scene changed. Suddenly my ma was at the wheel and we were driving forward on a regular road. To get better control of the car, I climbed over the seat row in front of me. My ma protested.

Next we were outside of the van on the sidewalk. My uncle from Germany was there. Apparently, he lived there. We were supposed to go on a walk. There was a whole gaggle of children half the size of me. I proposed that we should play a game on the way, a kind of dungeon and dragon thing. Then, one of the kids pulled out a box with an actual dungeon and dragon game. As he started explaining the particular game, it all turned out to be pretty complicated, much more than everyone would figure out during the half hour of the car ride. So, I tried to persuade them to stay with my simpler rules, but the kid was very resistant and I woke up.

That uncle loved to play board games. He was part of a Christian group. He really seemed to live up playing board games and playing guitar for them to sing. I also loved board games. I even invented board games as a kid. I would draw the board and create play money. I’d come up with my own rules. Unfortunately, I had no friends to play with me and my ma/step dad rarely took the time to play. Nowadays, I kind of miss board games. I would love to have a girl over and play one of the adult board games. I think that there are some games that involve deep getting to know each other questions or relationship questions. There are other games like naked twister or board games include performing sensual/sexual tasks on the other person. Hey, strip poker would be cool. Yep, that would be really cool.

Actually, last night, my mind was feverishly thinking about a group game before I went to sleep. For a while, I was really concerned that nobody would want to come to our pajama trail run next weekend. However, people are starting to sign up and show interest. Plus, I want to put another stack of flyers at my gym. So, that is another shot at finding people. If we actually pull this off to get people running in pajamas through the chaparral, we can do more stuff.

At the Sierra Club, there was a few years ago an outing that involved a treasure hunt on the UCLA campus. I loved that a lot. I would love to organize my own version. The difference is, I would love for half of the treasures to be dynamic. With dynamic I mean, that they are not pre-planned by me, but the other groups create treasures for another group.

So, the idea is that there are two groups called the barons. There is a group called the gangsters. There is a group called the cops. Naturally, the gangsters want the baron’s money. The cops want the gangster’s loot. The two baron groups will be sent off to collect treasures. It has to be two groups, so that they have competition.

The gangsters have to catch either of the baron groups. If they find a baron group, they can only capture one member at the most. That member is captured by running after them and touching the person. Once a baron has been touched, he has to walk with the gangsters back to me. I will act as the gangster’s hideout, where the baron has to stay. The gangster’s are free to go catch the next baron. Bonus, if the baron carried any treasure, the baron has to hand it over to the gangsters.

The only way to free the baron is for the police to catch a gangster and trade the gangster for the baron. The police catch gangsters in the same way that gangsters catch barons.

Another important function of me will be acting as a bank. Once a treasure is deposited with me, it can no longer be stolen. As the bank, people can also transfer money between each other. They can simply text me to do so. Each group and each individual has an account. The individual accounts are so that people can make deals with each other. More on deals a little later.

For a preview, anyone in the game can make a deal with anyone. For example, a baron could act as a mole for the gangsters. He could trade the location of his group for a side payment by the gangsters. They would text me. I would transfer the money. However, I would not enforce any deals. So, the gangsters could cheat the mole by not paying as promised. The point is that the game is about dealing, negotiating, and bluffing.

So, here are the basic rules:

1. There are four groups: 2 baron groups, 1 gangster group, 1 cop group
2. Baron groups get a sheet with treasure locations. Each treasure gives them money.
3. Money is only safe, once it is deposited with me the bank.
4. Gangsters can capture one baron at a time, by touching him. Captured barons have to put in the hideout (with me), before the next baron can be captured. Captured barons have to turn over any treasures that they carry.
5. The police can do the same to gangsters. A captured gangster is traded for a baron in the hideout.
6. Anyone can text me to transfer money from their personal account to anyone else.
7. Anyone can make a deal with anyone. The bank does not enforce the terms. There is any kind of deal making, deceit etc allowed. Examples follow.

During the setup of the game, each group will get a mole picked. Only the mole will be informed. The baron group will have a mole for the gangsters. The gangsters a mole for the police, the police one for the gangsters. The job of the mole is to contact the leader of the other group and offer deals: “Hey, I will tell you, where we are headed right now for 1 million.” They may negotiate a bit. They may set up pre-payment terms or fifty-fifty terms. They will text me to wire the money. In the end, the baron group may be ambushed. Or, the mole may have played the gangsters, kept the pre-payment money and sent them far away.

People in the group are allowed cheating. For example, a baron may hold onto a found treasure. However, he may keep a little for himself, when he deposits it with me.

Groups may take tactics against each other. Only the barons know the location of the treasures. One baron group may decide to burn the other barons. They may give the gangsters for a small payment, the location of the next treasure. The gangsters create an ambush and capture one baron from the second group. While the gangsters are busy bringing the baron to the hide out (me), the first group can safely go to the compromised treasure. They may even play it higher by snitching the gangster ambush to the cops, and collecting tip money from them as well.

Once someone is captured, the cops could simply trade in a gangster. Or, the cops could also demand payment from the barons for the release. Similarly, the gangsters can request ransom for the baron.

A baron group may also make a deal with the police. The police will get 40% of the treasure, if the police stay with them to protect them from gangsters. In the end, they had to share their potential treasure earnings, yet they were protected from gangsters.

I’d think that the challenge is for participants to realize, how many ways that they could make deals. And, then the challenge is to make them feel comfortable doing it. Most people, who are fresh to something want to fit in, rather than try to take something to the maximum level. I’d be intrigued to find out, what happens. I especially, like the way that participants can text me as the bank to transfer around money. I could sit in a central place with my laptop to keep track of all the transactions. Perhaps, stay at a comfortable coffee house or the Santa Monica library.

I want to record my dreams again. As of late, my dreams have not been very vivid or insightful. Somewhat, I suspect that together with my writing stoppage, my mind may have gotten too exhausted. Maybe, the last months of the corporate job really burned me out.

The first dream had me in a dark parking garage. There was a ramp between levels that turned. Outside the turn was a steep drop. The car was parked right next to the railing, so that I could not open the door. I reached in through the window. I swiveled the steering wheel and pushed the car back and force, weaving it away from the railing. A parking attendant came with concern about what I might be doing to the car or if it were mine. I saw on the back of the car that it was marked M6 to designate, at least in the dream, the highest rate BMW. The car design of the driver area was like that of a helicopter. The glass curved around in a bulb. There was a joystick to fit in between the legs of the driver. The joystick had a flat top, like a remote control. The top had buttons on it to control the car. I tried to get into the car. As I put a leg through the window, it started rolling down the on ramp. After a moment of confusion, I looked for the hand break on the center console. It was a single button. As I pushed the soft button down, it ratcheted. Now, I climbed in. The joystick worked a bit different than a plane. Pushing the joystick forward simply accelerated. I carefully drove around the parked car in front of me. Everything was so smooth and accurately responsive. I was enjoyed by it and realized that it was worth it to spend the money on a luxury car. I woke up.

The next dream found me back in high school. After the usual to me confusion about finding the right room and right subject for the next class, I was in an English class room. The female teacher asked me to put a cake on her plate. It seemed like a simple enough task. Yet, I was struggling every bit of the way. There were so many things that I apparently did not know. I put the second piece horizontally above the first piece. I got scolded for that, because the second piece would touch the chocolate icing of the first piece. So, I lay it horizontally beneath the first piece to keep the pieces away from each others icing. As I put the utensils next to her cake, I was admonished that I should have used utensils to move the cakes. That way, my bare hands would not have touched the food that she would eat. As I poured the drink into her glass, I touched the rim by accident. I offered to wash it at the nearby class room sink. After a short deliberation, she looked at the glass. There was what seemed to be spit swimming at the top of it. I have no clue, how that got there. She let me wash it. It was one of those craft sinks with two faucets. As I turned on one faucet, the other started running as well. There was leakage all over the place. A plate with a cake that I had put down started getting wet as well. I scrambled to move the plate. Once the glass was rinsed, I struggled to get those faucets closed. Despite being closed, they still kept leaking water. Eventually, I managed to squeeze them off hard enough. As I walked back to her desk, I pondered, why everyone else has such an easy time with manual tasks. I had to learn so much, for example, how to close those faucets or procedures about putting cake on a paper plate.

She was finally content. I was late for my next class. Worst, all my classmates had left. So, there was nobody to ask, where to go next. I figured that I might simply walk from classroom to classroom peaking in to see, if I could spot some of my classmates. I randomly saw my dad walking around. I realized that he had been invited for a week as a guest scholar to teach special topics in the physics lab. I decided to be an extra minute late and look for him. I could see him through the glass window in the door for the lab. He was sitting there by himself and looking at his own web site. Apparently, nobody was utilizing his time and he was happy to dilly around on his laptop.

I went on to find my next class. I remembered, how in the previous class, I was circling massage workshops that I was missing or had to re-take to finish the massage program. I did not understand, why I had failed some of the classes. I woke up shortly after. I still kept thinking about re-taking classes. It dawned on me that perhaps, had I re-taking a year in high school, it would have solved a lot of problems. Back then, I was so hell bend on not missing a year, because it would have looked bad. Perhaps, re-doing the twelve’s year would have been a very strategic choice. That was the year that counted towards the final. By re-taking it, I could have polished my grades. I also would have had a more solid foundation to score well in the thirteen’s year. Now, at age thirty three, it no longer seems like a big loss to have missed a year. I have so many years to live. Yet, I have to support myself now, so that taking a year off is a rare commodity. Back at twenty starting on my own legs in New York City seemed like a great thing. Especially, because the bar owner called me general manager. However, getting a college degree is a hard thing to come by once you live on your own and are weaned of cheap living.

I wonder, what I should do with my life. Computer science has been something that I have always been good at and got paid well for. I do not want to spend more time behind a computer. I want to spend time with people. Yet, I am so scared that I have spent the last two weeks all by myself holed up at home. I have been good at managing projects. People were always amazed. Things always worked exemplary smooth. Yet, nobody wants to put me into a manager position. It is like showing tangible action and looking at the person are two different things. I kind of would like to be a tycoon type that chases the money and deals. Yet, I do not have anything to deal with. I kind of would like to sit in meetings and do presentations. Yet, I do not have anything to present. I could present my dad’s product in sales meetings. That could be great. The little problem is that my dad won’t give me the full information to understand the product enough. The big problem is that I am completely blocked from cold calling to get any prospects at all.

The white, worn, low sofa stood beneath the wide window. The window overlooked the apartment complex court yard with many hand rails and fences circling around a deeply blue swimming pool with a red brick rim. The neighbor stood halfway in the apartment. She was low and round with many bulges. She looked a bit like an old gnarled tree trunk in a distant desert, where the harsh wind and sand had kept it from growing up. Her skin color was deeply red and brown. She was breathing heavily and smiling intend on making a good impression.

“Hi neighbor, how are you? Yes, beautiful day. My daughter turned eighteen today. Please, come to party this evening. We need man to celebrate.”

The girl just outside the door way moved side to side. She was tall and gangly with her soccer socks in blue with white rims all the way up to her knee. The fluttered soccer shorts were around her hip. Her long dark brown hair fell down her back.

“My ma is inviting you over for my birthday party. Because we immigrated by ourselves, my dad is no longer with us. She would like to have a man present, so that we can do our traditional coming of age rites. We are desert people from Mexico. We are from the country.”

“Yes, sure, I will be there. It would be my pleasure.”

Later, in the evening, he walked across the court yard. Their apartment door was in the corner next to a dirt patch of dried plants and ruble. He stared at the worn blue paint, as he waited for the party noises in the inside to respond to his door bell ring. The door opened to a warm room with many bodies sitting around and moving. Photos were on the wall. Relatives or friends were sitting on the couch and chairs. Food was piled in a calico assortment of plastic containers with half removed aluminum foil and saran wrap. Two particularly old and gray herd women were pushing around little dumplings in a pan, while debating. Her little brother was sitting on a patch of thick carpet on the floor toying around with cell phone. Her mother came running like a duck. Her upper body wobbled softly, while her legs moved like mad. She hugged and kissed me on the cheek.

“So, wonderful that you came, mister! Try cake!”

The daughter was standing in the distance by herself leaning against the wall. She looked at him with a long glance. She was wearing a long t-shirt and a tiara. Her arms were wrapped around her chest. The breast were quite unpronounced in the oversize clothes.

The cake was a layer of brown fluffy crust interrupted by white layers of cream. A shiny red sugar pipeline wound around the top of the cake: “Happy Birthday – 18 – Kiva.” A green plastic fork was put on the paper plate as well. Spanish rice was boiling in a large pot. One of the two old women pointed at chicken in the oven and made ‘ma – ma – ma’ sounds.

He ended up on the couch next a cousin with a very green blouse and stiff skirt. The skirt would stand up a little and flash the shoes standing at the door. There were laces falling down on each sides of a shoe running into opposite directions on the floor. There was a healed slip in shoe with worn surface that had a brown color that obviously belonged to one of the elder women. There was a black shiny leather boot with strings slowly rising up woven through dozens of tight eyelets. It was like out of a fantasy dream. Finding out the true wearer would surely disappoint.

The cousin talked about the latest Mexican soap opera. He started feeling uncomfortable and out of place. When the mother noticed it, she brought over a shot glass of liquor made from a desert cactus. It tasted clear. It burned. It had a hint of a novel taste that must be unique to that cactus. The mother left him with the cousin.

“So, you are really going to do it. Respect! Deep respect! Do you know anything about our people? No? You are crazy! Well, we are people of the desert in Mexico. In a very remote place is a strong river. The river is dry on the surface and runs underneath. If you follow it, you will come to a very tall waterfall. The water falls down steep and smooth sand stone. The rock forces the water over ground. Many adventurers have died vainly attempting to climb up. That’s why we have been safe for many centuries until the first helicopter landed on top.”

“Above the water fall is place so beautiful like paradise. There are trees, bushes, and many fruits. The water is so clear and has tasty fish. The water has carved caves into the rock. Those caves are the houses for our tribe. Can you imagine, getting up and having fresh food simply for the picking. We had so much free time. Some people would play. Some people would create art. Heck, some people made alcohol and were drunken bastards. The thing that our people are most famous for are ceremonies. It requires a lot of creativity to come up with the symbolism and rites. Oh, am I boring you? You will find out!”

The mother brought over her daughter and a photo album. The daughter sat down on the arm rest next to him. She folded up the photo album. A photo of a sports team mascot smothering her followed a clam girl sitting in the corner of rowing boat in an apparently cold ocean. He remembered her, when she first moved on. She was one of the older kids. As the days shifted, she started getting womanly curves. She started standing taller over her mother. She started sitting behind the steering wheel of the family car. It is funny, when you look at little girls. It is so hard to imagine that they may one day become sexually eager women in rubber skirts with whips, tyrannical bosses, or dumb helpless overweight wastes of space.

“My ma will take you soon to start the ritual. We don’t have much space here. It will be in the bathroom. The old women speak no English. They may not be able to explain you, what will happen. Understand, that the traditions are a bit weird for an American. We are indebted to you to come as a man. Oh, my father died on the way to America. Or, we think that he did. We never heard from him again. Only the women succeeded with the journey. Please, don’t think weird of me.”

Her mother appeared. She took my hand and led us to the bathroom. The two old women were sitting on the floor Indian style. They were seemingly discussing the lighting. A few tea lights were flickering shadows on the white wall. The washing counter was filled with cosmetic bottles. Their shades were jumping around. The daughter was sitting with on the toilet seat with her knees together and the feet spread out. Her mother looked at him intently.

“We sing. We initiate you. We bless Kiva with adulthood.”

The old women and mother started singing. The older of them with the blue sweater spat a huge one in her hand. She started spreading the spit in a circle over her palm. She hesitated for a moment. Than, she smacked him on the cheek. He was startled and embarrassed. The mother pleaded. The second old woman smacked him the same. The daughter told him that they were exorcising any spirits that he may have, so that he was pure for the ritual.

The oldest woman got up now. She pulled off the worn pink socks with cotton dots of the daughter’s feet. Her t-shirt went over her head and lifeless arms. She was wearing a dark blue bra that pushed her young boobs into a round shape. They pulled down her pants to reveal the tight fighting panties with ribbons on the side. He was too afraid to say something wrong or miss out on seeing more of this. He froze. She did nothing as her bra was unhooked and dropped up front. The goose bumps around her nipple betray her apathy. Her panties went down. They revealed a young smooth pussy. She shaved. There was some white sap between her intimate lips.

Black sharpies were grabbed from the bathroom counter. The woman started drawing on her body: a teddy bear, a lollypop, a children’s bicycle. He motioned to another sharpie pen. His mind was feverish to get a chance to touch the young naked skin. She was in a bit of trance from all the touch.

“No, you can’t. You have to wait. They are drawing the symbols of childhood. You will draw the symbols of womanhood.”

The six hands let her to the bathtub. A big dollop of bubble gel from the 99 cent store brought a warm scent into the room. She lay in the water. Her arms were wrapped tight to her body to fit into the tub. Her knees and boobs broke above the waters surface. The six hands of the women joined her in the water. Hands were massaging the sharpie off her thighs. Another hand rubbed the Winnie the Pooh of her forehead. She looked solemnly at the ceiling. They got her out and rubbed her down friskily with a thick towel.

“Now, it is your turn to mark me for womanhood. Please, my ma makes me do this. You have to draw fertility symbols. Draw a penis on my stomach.”

He rested his hand on her stomach. Her navel was an innie. He could feel the smooth skin under his hand, as the pen glided to create a crude penis with two balls under it. The idea of defacing a young girl with such symbols gave him a strong hard on. People in the room must have smelled the musk smell from his erection. Yet, nobody said anything. He was shaking a bit. He looked down at her snatch to see, how the outer lips were hiding the inner lips like in a young body. He drew a short skirt and high heels on her chest. As his hand moved, he touched on her nipples. She inhaled and shivered a bit. He drew the outline of lips to suggest a kiss on her side. He reached down to her most feet. He held them looking at their sexy shape, before he drew a tampon on it. He drew a belly with a baby inside on the side of her groin. He could feel the V that the groin forms. He could feel the bubbles or knots under her skin. His left hand was hovering over her pussy as he stretched the skin taught for him to draw with the right.

“I didn’t think that you would go this far. The woman will not stop. They still believe in tradition.”

The mother jumped up and hugged and kissed him profusely in gratitude.

“You come back tomorrow to continue.”

The next day, his heart was pounding. The blue door with the worn paint seemed to wobble in front of him. He was intrigued by the young naked girl that he saw last night. He was afraid about the unusual nature. He loved the ways that these people found it normal to show him a naked eighteen year old. He was afraid that he may do something wrong according to these different rules and get in trouble. The mother opened the door as warm, friendly, and enthusiastic, when she had given him a Happy Valentine’s heart oblivious of the lover meaning of the holiday.

“Today, Kiva learn to be with man. She grew up with women. She needs to learn, what is like to live with man. For one day, you two will be together. Don’t take opportunity and kiss or sex her.”

“Ma is saying that on the first day of womanhood, the women of our tribe learn, how man hunt and what they smell like. In our age, it means that you’ll take me around to watch baseball, repair cars, or whatever you normally do. We get to sleep in the same room, so that I can smell, what a man smells like at night. Don’t try to do anything funny. We are very open people. However, you are not to think that you can kiss me or have your way with me.”

He contemplated, if it was a gift to have a hot young girl with him or a curse tempting him horribly? How, had she become hot? She used to be a kid. She used to be a neighbor. Seeing her naked last night and touching her had turned him on. It had raised her in his eyes.

The mother gently reached for his left hand. She raised it. She reached onto the table. She hand cuffed him to the girl. He was dazed. The daughter looked the floor. The mother shoved him out of the door: “Do what you normally do. Ignore her.” The daughter staggered behind them drawn by her arm.

The worn blue door was shut against in front of him. He was in the same place, better of an eighteen year old girl chained to his wrist.

“Do you want to grab a coffee?”

“No, remember, this is for me to learn, what it is like to be around a man. A coffee would be entertaining me. Do what you normally do!”

“Honestly, I can’t think like that about what I normally do on a Saturday. Maybe, go to the gym.”

“Let’s go.”

She was happily bouncing up and down bouncing at his chain, as they walked down the concrete sidewalk past the houses with the pretty plants. He could not figure out, how to drive a car with Kiva being chained to his left side. So, they walked. His mood lifted having her around. There was excitement in the air. He got to show her something. Every glance at her showed him youth, woman, beauty, boobs, legs, feet, smiles, cheeks. It made him happy. He almost started singing.

“Whatever rocks your boat! Just don’t try the treadmill. It’s too easy for you two to knock each other down.”

Luckily, Venice is an eclectic playground. Wearing hand cuffs in public is only as odd as the bald guy in a full body spandex suit yelling at this client to push one more time. It is as odd, as the girls in the group exercise room in lingerie practicing pole dance moves to empower themselves.

It was nice to have a companion around. He was lying on his back on a thinly padded bench amidst a chaos of metal arms from fitness machines and mirrors reflecting everything. She leaned forward to softly hold onto the barbell that he was pushing. Her blue t-shirt sacked forward. It created an airspace that would have been large enough for her body twice. He wondered about her breast. Breast leaning forward generally hang. The sides become a bit puckered in a sexy way. He wondered how her hanging breast would look like, as he every fiber in his body exploded to push up the barbell. It felt good to grow his muscles become sick on his chest and back.

They walked over to the stretching area with the dirty mats on the ground. They started doing sideways push ups. He put the free hand behind his neck. He twisted his torso up and to the side. He saw her. He saw her face. She had warmed up on the inside. She was enjoying to move her body. There is this beautiful innocence about young people. They are not made bitter by the world yet. It is like a rare nectar, like a fountain of youths to be around them. She is quiet. She rarely talked. It is like she was lost in her own world. He wanted to spank her butt, her tight young butt. He remembered that he was told, not to take advantage.

At home, they were brainstorming in the bathroom. Both of them were sweaty. After the scene last night, getting naked may not be so embarrassing anymore. However, getting the sleeves of the clothing over the cuffs seemed to be a geometrically unsolvable problem. He could have twisted the shirt of his body. However, then it would only be stuck between the two. Another problem was that they needed to pee.

“That’s part of the lesson. Let me see you pee. You got to see me naked yesterday.”

She opened his pants. He opened the toilet. He reached in to get a hold of his penis. He hesitated until she encouraged him. She squatted next to him. Her lips were soft and pink. Her eyes had dark lashes. She looked at his penis. The shaft was slightly swollen and the head glowed red with air rushing in. She intently looked at the urine streaming out of his penis. He even thought that he caught her licking her lips. They were like a holly triangle. She stared at his penis. He started at her face holding the soft member in his hands.

She flushed, put the seat down, and squatted on the toilet. Her knees were pressed together, as her white panties were rolled a little bit lower in a bunch. She leaned forward clutching a couple sheets of toilet paper in her hand as the hissing stream emptied itself into the toilet bowl. She was so coy.

The rest of the evening passed in laughter like mirage. They were so in the moment, that later they only remembered, what had happened. They were cooking food together and watching the tele. Only at night, did he start paying attention again. It was dark outside, safe for the courtyard lighting. Everything in the room was pretty clear in black and white. She was still lying on his left biceps. She had found a nice pillow in it. She had insisted that she needed to learn the smell of a man at night. His left arm gave him an idea about the small and light size of her body. She was so tender. She lightly snored. She was a bit smelly in a very mellow way. His penis was ragingly hard from the feeling of her body on his. It was electric. He reached with his other hand for his penis, simply to hold her in one arm and his penis in the other. The firm and stout staff felt good in his hand.

Sadness was with him as he waited in front of the worn blue door. She was not a friend of his. He knew that all the pleasure of the last two days was only because of the coming of age ritual. He would probably not see her again.

The daughter had disappeared to her room. The mother was over joyous. He was rubbing the skin irritation on his left wrist. The cousin was there, too. She was wearing a stark blue blouse and leggings with carpet print. It turned out that the lace up black leather boots belonged to her. She was wearing them.

“We are almost family now! Don’t worry; our people have very different morale ideas than the prudent religious settlers of this country. The next step is for you to fuck her. Rosa invited me here, because her English would not allow her to explain you well. Now listen, most of you Angelino boys don’t have any clue in that department. There are four ways of copulation. You will have to teach her all four of them. Oh, fool, your face tells me that you have no clue.”

“Honey” and she grabbed him to lead her to Kiva’s room. Kiva was sitting on her bed brushing her hair. The pants were thrown off before the bed. A poster a boy toy vampire with air brushed muscles hang next to the window. She was still wearing the same white cotton pants.

“Go ahead and kiss her.” He moved onto the bed. He felt like he was moving back into a teenage secret room. He put one arm around Kiva. The other touched her cheek. His lips reached for her lower lip. It was a bit sticky from freshly applied lip gloss. He nipped on her lower lip a bit. Then, he reached his tongue in to see, what he would found. After diving through her lips, he found teeth and an elusive tongue. After a bit of moving around, the elusive tongue came forward to gingerly greet his. Her tongue was compact, small, wet, and dart like. He grabbed her whole body now, squeezing his body against her, as his jaw opened wide to get the most mouth. His penis war raging hard. He pressed it against his hip bone. He was so turned on that he did not care anymore about being found out.

“Hey, hey stud, take her top off and start kissing.” Kiva raised her arms straight up like a good girl. The t-shirt ended somewhere in a corner. Her body was like the map for a kingdom. He was excited about exploring it all. He started down her cheeks to her arm pits. They were shaved. He was curious, what they smelled and tasted like. He could find her true odors in her arm pit. He loved it. He loved her. He went for the breast and nipples. He alternatingly pinched her nipples with his tenses lips and his teeth. Then, he circled his lips around the areola. He wrapped his lips around her tummy and sucked the air in hard, as she moaned and raked back. His arms glided around hips to her side to holder up, before his head dove back onto her body.

“Oh, ho, you read an article about foreplay in Men’s Health. Now, pinch her nipples hard. C’mon, don’t be a pussy, pinch harder than that. Yes, harder than even that. Pinch so hard that you think it will hurt. Then, you are starting to get it right. Don’t let up, it is simply a foreign sensation.” Kiva squealed and twisted. He was biting his lip hard feeling what he assumed was her pain. She paused and her eyes opened: “It actually feels good. I can feel it all the way down to my vagina. Try harder.”

The cousin kicked of her unlaced boots. She had boot socks under them with a ringed black and white texture. She moved up on the head of the bed. She opened her blue blouse and pushed down one of her bra cups. The plumb breast of a slightly overweight woman appeared. Her nipples were very rosy in contrast to Kiva’s dark brown nipples. She asked him to follow her instructions. Her palm pressed against her nipple. Her fingers were splayed out. She hooked her fingers, so that her nails scraped her skin as she closed the tip of her fingers together to scrape out towards her nipple – peacock’s claw. Then, she twisted her boob clockwise and counterclockwise. Kiva crooned her neck back and looked up at her cousin, as a little bit of drool showed at the edge of her mouth. He was eager to oblige, if clumsy. The cousin started circling her breast with her hand.

The cousins hand reached forward. There was a ring with a big green stone on her hand. There were bracelets tangled in each other on her wrist. She pushed up his t-shirt. She wrapped her lips around his nipples. She pushed his head down onto Kiva’s chest. At first she blew gentle warm air on his nipple. A hiss of fast cold air followed. Then, golden and luscious warms overcame him as her lips sank down. He followed her example. The cousin sucked her. He sucked hard. He jerked, when she bit his nipples hard. Yet, he bit Kiva hard as well. Kiva moaned. The cousin’s index finger appeared in front of his crossed eyes squeezed up Kiva’s boobs.

“Now listen, this is a bit of an acquired taste. Kiva has to get used to boob slapping. It is very startling at first. So, you have to start gently and give her time to recover. There is a time, when her mind clicks and she finds the enjoyment. It is as wonderful, a when you get a sudden burst of fresh air or if you get out in the cold in winter after suffocating in the indoor heat. It is jolting. So, like a kid that falls without a scrape and cries, it is the jolt that scares, not the pain.”

The cousin moved behind Kiva. She grabbed her upper arms. She pulled them behind her back. And locked it by wedging her arm between Kiva’s upper arm and her body. Her chest was more erect and her boobs stood out. Following the cousin’s instructions, he slapped her lightly at first. The boobs were jiggling happily. He slapped across to have them dongle back and force. He slapped them from below to see them bouncing up and down. Then a moderate slap made Kiva jump. The cousin wrapped her free hand around Kiva’s hair to pull her head under control and told him to kiss her to reassure her. She eagerly sucked in his kiss as a tear ran down the side of her face. Her breathing slowed down as his and the cousin’s body hugged her sitting on her bed in her panties.

“Okay, let’s go at it again. Do three soft blows to her breast followed by a moderate stroke. Do them fast, so that it becomes like a loosening of the muscles after running. Build up, a little harder each time.”

He did. His timidity gave way to an emotion that he did not know. The excitement of hurting someone turned him on. With every suppressed scream from Kiva, something inside of him was tugged. It worked him into a fever. When he was told to suck hard on Kiva’s breast, he had lost reason. He felt like beast that was sucking with his whole being on her breast. Kiva started wriggling. She started pushing her pelvis against him. The cousin lead go of her grip on her. Kiva grabbed his head and started pushing him hard on her breast. He could no longer breathe. He did not care. The tension realized. She looked down at him. “You are so wonderful.”

“Got your dick hard, eh! It is time to lick her. Let’s see, if you can get those panties off with your teeth. Yeah, go try harder. NO!”

After having gotten frustrated to get a good byte on the panty band, he had tried to use his fingers. He had winced like a beaten puppy, when the cousin had pulled out a single of his hair on his head. He tried again. As he would push his lips harder into Kiva’s belly, her belly and the panty band would equally recede. Finally, the use of the tongue to slip underneath the panty helped him get a good teeth grip and tear the darn thing of her body.

The flesh of Kiva’s legs wrapped around his head. His tongue quickly found the thick moisture between her legs that tasted so deliciously. He followed the taste to the entrance of her vagina and tried to suck out as much as he could. The nastiness of drinking stale pussy juices from the last day turned him on even more. He licked her lips eagerly and sucked clitoris hard. When Kiva grabbed his penis to suck it with your exploring mouth, he was overwhelmed and became someone else. His load exploded. She came. It all happened too fast.

Kiva ended up sprawled at the head section of the bed. Her body cradled a pillow with her body as she was laying on the side in a fetal position. She was holding her green cuddle turtle. The cousin had a needle in his arm and a rubber band wrapped above.

“She is clean. Before we continue, we have to know that you are. The results come in within 24 hours. Looks like you are having a lot of fun helping a man less family out raising a daughter.”

He was sent back to his apartment.

“Awesome, bro! Three things: You gotta take advantage of every last bit of this. You gotta make sure that there is consent. That Kiva girl seems mighty passive. You have to get her consent. Or, she may change her mind one day and paint you in court as part of some family rape thing. Lastly, watch your semen. Women these days just want to get pregnant and don’t care with whom. They go through trash looking for used condoms. Make her swallow and stick out the tongue. Swallow yourself, you can. Everything else has to be flushed down the toilet. And, I don’t care about any dolphins getting the condom stuck on their snouts!”

His friend was leaning over his beer on the shaky bar table. The friend waved goodbye as he left to find the results of the STD test. The worn blue door was in front of him again. It has become so familiar, so filled of expectations of lust. Kiva was wearing a sleek purple dress. It showed her hips and barely covered her ass chicks. She was wearing black high hills with straps around her ankles. Her hair was made to stand up high on her hair. She was wearing make up that made her face smoother and her blackened eye lines more dramatic. The red glossy lip stick was perhaps a bit too much. The gnome mother came running like a duckling. She smothered him with praise and thanks for teaching her daughter. Kiva followed her mother to her room. He followed Kiva. The bottom of Kiva’s dress was slanting forward with each step, as if the dress was licking her butt. He could tell the outline of the bra strap. The mother left a plate with cookies and tea as she left him with Kiva and the cousin in Kiva’s room. This time a few magazines lay on the floor, a bucket with dirty laundry stood there, and a school bag with books waited in the corner.

“Hey horn dog, today, we will teach Kiva about the dick and how to turn man on. Do you like her outfit? Does it turn you on? Then, say so, she needs to hear it. C’mon express your hard on, don’t be shy. Kiva spread your legs and bend over. Yeah, you got a glimpse of those panties? Those are Vegas style. Do you like the stylish black with the red stitching on top? It’s all the same with you guys, you like the expectation of seeing more than actually seeing.”

“Kiva girl, give him a few cheerleading moves. Show him your boobs bouncing. Yep, you are putting a smile on his face. Now, do a high kick and see him lounging down to see your panties. That gets you guys each time, doesn’t it.”

“Now, let’s tease him a bit more. Take off your bra. Ha, the trick is to do it deliberate. Find the clip in the bank, keep your dress on. Get one shoulder out, reach in on the other shoulder to pull it down your arm. Yep, he is so quiet, they could rob his apartment and he would not care. Remember, to adjust your boobs afterwards. The guys love it, when you handle your boobs. Now, put the bra on his face. Let him smell that gentle odor of soap and your body oil.”

“Check, if that made his dick hard. Reach down and feel. Nice girl. Now bite his dick through his jeans. Bite down really hard, because he will barely feel anything through the thick fabric. Okay, now, he just wants to be pure animal and ram you. You gotta draw it out. He likes it more that way as well. Put your hands against the wall, and see, if you can jiggle your ass by tensing. Beautiful! Let’s have a slap. Now, lets hike up your hemline until mid butt cheek and let it drop down. Gorgeous! I’d want to do you myself!”

After a little more dancing the dress and lingerie had landed on the floor. He could have sworn that his dick must have grown so much that it would look out and over his jeans. Kiva had begged her cousin to take his dick, because she felt so horny and turned on from the sexy clothing and stripping. So, his member was unpacked and he lay splay naked on the teenage girl’s bed. She straddled him and sank down on him. She went wild and moaned. The cousin got bored, because she could not lecture and started texting a friend. Kiva was having fun. He looked up at her naked body and soft breast. He looked down at his penis disappearing into her pussy. He just wanted to be more inside of her young teenage world badly. So, he rolled on top of her. He put her face down on the blanket, as he pushed his hips into her soft butt. Her pussy was so wet. He held her hips and was hammering inside of her. She moaned and was happy.

The cousin threw a few cookies on the bed. They enjoyed the afterglow and sweat. Kiva was leaning against his naked body. Her arm was wrapped around his back. After being alone for so long, it felt so warming to him to be held. He felt burning around his heart. He could barely contain himself. So, he was quietly soaking in the feeling of her warm body.

The cousin started showing him a little trick for getting a hard on. Reflexology is a kind of massage, where hands or feet are touched. Every zone on the appendage corresponds to the rest of the body by a magical connection. So, to heal the spine, one can touch the right spot on the foot. Reflexology massage can be done, by nibbling a finger along the foot or hand in very small increments to get as much stimulation as possible. The cousin started inching up and down and around his penis with her thumb. He started getting drowsy. After a five minute nap, he woke up with a fresh hard on.

“Okay, honey, it is anal time. Let’s be gentle and slow. Put your finger on Kiva’s ass. Do you feel the central hole? Let’s feel around the sphincter. It should feel all shriveled up. Let’s feel the smooth skin outside of the sphincter. Let’s go back to the shriveled sphincter. Try to see, if you can move the whole thing in circles, just as you could move the nipples in circles on the breast. Nice! Now, let’s start kneading. Imagine that you are kneading out the crust of a cake. Every little push should spread the dough out just a little bit to be even. You definitely don’t want to go in.”

“Yeah, no, do not go in. Keep kneading. It feels really good to her. You have to be patient until the first portal opens. Yes, there are two portals that you will find. It might not happen today. Keep kneading. If you get bored, think about how nasty it is to touch her poop hole. Think about how private people feel about their ass. Think about how shit is the true core of a person. People shake hands with everyone. Shit is the true core of the person. Think about the smell of her poop and how it is mushy. Yeah, does that get you hard?”

“Oh, she opened up, now did she! You are in the ante chamber. You don’t want to go further. Simply enjoy getting in and out of the chamber. Getting in a little bit will give her intense sensation. Going out will make her feel nasty like she was shitting on you. Okay, make sure to spit on your fingers and on her ass. Have patience, your dick will be in her soon enough.”

After an hour, his finger could go in all the way. He found out that his finger smelled like her poop. Everyone has a unique poop smell. He loved her poop smell. He was wearing nitrile gloves by now that were glistening in lube. Kiva had a matte and sweaty face. Her eyes watery. Her mascara had had turned into thick streaks and run around a bit. She loved pushing his fingers out with her ass, like we was taking a shit. It made her ecstatic. She was breathless waiting for the two fingers to go back in.

The cousin had told him to enter her. She forbade him to use a condom. She also did not want him to put lube on his dick. She thought that Kiva would enjoy the natural texture better. His dick was pumped with blood and near exploding. As he pushed in, he could feel soft poop with the tip of his dick. It only drove him more nuts. She seemed to like the feeling of stuffiness as well. He so wanted to be part of her and get deeper inside of her being. He wanted to feel her youngness, her free outlook on life, the uncomplicated emotions that flushed over her face. When he came, the idea of shooting a load of white seamen on her brown soft poop and mixing it deep inside of her ass made him come even harder. She pushed her butt down deep on his penis as she braised herself for her own intense orgasm.

The cousin, the mother, and Kiva thanked him warmly for teaching Kiva to become a woman. The cousin even smacked his butt and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The sent him off with a bit of stale leftover birthday cake.

The morning, he stood again in front of the worn blue door. The mother welcomed him warmly. The cousin was reading a book on the couch. She looked sternly at him and told him that none of this was about his pleasure and he had done his job. He stammered and then burst out.

“I am German. We are a nation of thinkers and philosophers. We have a rite of passage as well. I have indulged your tradition. Now it is your turn. It is time that we Germanize Kiva.”

The cousin paused for a while and than conference called the older women from the birthday party. They denied his request. They send him back to his apartment across the courtyard. In the evening, a soft knock at his door interrupted him from playing Farmville. Kiva was out there in sweat pants carrying a soccer ball. She asked him to teach her the German ways. He told her to wait and disappeared in the apartment. He reappeared with a soft clothes dog collar. He kissed her neck and then put the dog collar on. He told her to get on her hands and walk like a dog. He corrected her to get her knees of the ground, because dogs don’t walk on their knees either. He stood there tall holding the leash in the evening darkness. She was bent forward with her hands on the floor and her knees half bend. Her t-shirt slid forward to show her belly. He tugged on her neck softly to start walking.

“Dear, your cousin may have taught you the physical ways of sex. I will teach you the mental aspect. You are to behave like a dog, puppy like. You are supposed to be ecstatic jumping forward and to disobey as you play with the leash.”

Kiva jumped forward and then rolled on her back. He rubbed her belly as she wagged her play paws in the air. They walked through the soft and warm evening air. Kiva enjoyed barking at real dogs, who’d be equally startled and curious about the creature. A middle aged suave gentleman in a soft leather jacket walked up too them. “You have a special kind of dog, don’t you. Can I pat it? What is her name?” Kiva was shy at first. She felt exposed to be touched by a stranger in such a humiliating position. Yet, as she did not have to talk, she enjoyed it. She even licked his hand playfully. The gentleman rose up and smelled his hand with joy and walked on.

After the gentleman had disappeared, they were alone at night on a deserted street. He told her to pee at a tree like a dog. She was to be careful to ration her urine, so that it could be repeated. He pulled down her sweatpants down her butt exposing her nakedness to the public. She was turned on and getting wet. Her hands were on the half dried grass of a strip between the side walk and the street. She wondered, how many dogs had peed here already. She lifted her leg and started peeing sideways. She drizzled some of it on her sweat pants. He told her that embarrassment and humiliation was part of the turn on. Not only was she walking like a dog. She’d also have signs of peeing on herself.

After carefully checking, they repeated the maneuver a bit further down the street. One time, they were surprised by a passing car. Though, they suspected that the driver was not able to get a good look at them. They’d pass a few isolated people in the night looking at them. They were both heated with their secret and conspiracy.

He led her down a dark alley. It smelled of stale urine. Garbage had been left on the side of the street. A couple cars were parked sideways. He led her in between and told her to get on her back. He pulled down her panties. He felt her pussy. It was so dripping wet like no foreplay before had made it. He entered her belly. She rose up to tongue kiss him. Her glance fell to the side. She could feel him inside of her. She saw under the cars the dark alley. At one point someone passed. The clicking of the heels sounded like a woman. They had paused and panted heavily in each others faces. Her pussy was pulsing in contractions around his dick as they were quiet. They both had a wonderful release. Unconsciously, they were holding hands on the way home.

The next weekend, he glanced across the apartment courtyard to the worn blue door. He knew that he was no longer welcome there. So, he walked around the building to find the window to Kiva’s room. He felt like in a teeny bopper movie, when he threw little stones at her window. Kiva’s head appeared. She was quick to attempt to climb down. As she put her leg over the window ledge, he could see her red panties, the packaging to the pussy that he loved to bang. Her shiny black shoes blindly reached for his shoulders. She slid down his body to the ground completely pushing up her dress. Her panties stood bright and happy on her naked lower part of her body. She adjusted herself and whispered moist warm air into his air: “I am ready.”

An hour later, they were at bar with velvet couches. He had taught her how to catch guys her own age. Ryan was underneath the table. She was slouched to the edge of the couch. He was licking and kissing her. She looked out onto the crowds. The lights, the music, the people, the flashes of group shots, the smiles, they high fives all blended together. She relaxed into feeling good. The tension of her last year in high school melted away. He had set her free to find her own lovers.