Greetings, followers! Welcome, newcomers. I realize that 2015 was a slow year for me in terms of blogging, however I intend to make up for that this year to you all. I will once again begin posting at least one new blog entry per week on here. Beginning tonight, I will be serializing the adventures of Logan Richardson, a troubled youth whose strong ideals and deep pockets allow for him to do what only few dream of doing; whatever he wants. This character drifts through life oblivious to its pitfalls. These weekly adventures I invite you to partake in are ones that are about the one thing that Logan can not control, and that is his own will. I’ll tell you right now you will not find a hero’s journey in these entries. You’ll see a plotless series of misadventures that lead to show that life is not a story, and that people change, but not that much. If you enjoy Bukowski, you will enjoy this series, and Vice Versa. Without further ado, I give you A Young American.
Another flying to falling dream. Arms folded, stiff as a board, I fly through the air as if I’m stuck in an invisible Pneumatic tube. Suddenly, all power is lost and I drop. Still unable to move, I find myself closing my eyes and bracing for impact as the ground rapidly approaches, I waking up shimmering in a cold sweat.
Dreams like that plagued me ever since my first fuck. I wiped my face and sighed, turning my head to the side. There she was: The significant other. I always admired the morning glow that reflected her blond hair cupping her face, which was perfect aside from the mole on her lower left cheek. I raised the covers to see her beautiful A+ cup breasts rising and falling with her slow, shallow breaths.
That was one of the best things about long-term relationships; going to bed naked was welcomed and frequent. I placed my fingers between her molehills, sliding them down her stomach. She squinted her eyes open and smiled at me. “What are you doing?” she groaned. I didn’t answer.
My nails glazed across her freshly shaved pussy, and I began to rub my fingertips on the outside. “Logan.” She giggled as she put her blanket over her mouth, spreading her legs open. Her hand casually found my cock as I pressed my fingers in and typed away inside her. She turned her head on my chest and I could feel her hot breath trail across it when I shoved another finger in.
I pulled the blanket off her face with my free hand and kissed her. She embraced me and pulled me on top of her. I reached into the desk drawer for a condom, ignoring her moans of protest, and wrapped myself up before turning her on her side. Despite how great morning sex was, I was way too tired to exert much energy, so we stayed in the sideways position for most of it.
Her perky pecs barely moved and she shivered when she came, giving me the go ahead to finish up myself. Why’s it called come, I thought as I flipped her onto her back, bracing myself with my elbows. I built myself up to a climax, and found myself wondering if Britney was faking her enjoyment after she finished. My seed splattered over the condom as I pulled out. I settled next to her for only a moment, before making my way to the bathroom.
I ripped the condom off and stared at the greasy glow on my dick, pissing out the remaining troops that lie attached at the tip. Britney rushed by me into the shower. That was the bad thing about long-term relationships; first come first serve applied to bathroom and kitchen privileges. She reached out to her iPod, plugging it into the speakers atop the toilet and blasted Rockin’ Me. I never understood the music in the shower craze, but it didn’t bother me too much.
More muffled Steve Miller Band followed me as I walked into the kitchen and cracked a few eggs into a frying pan for a late morning breakfast. Just when I popped a few freshly sizzled sausage links in my mouth, out came Britney in just a tie-dye shirt. “Why do you wear that?” I asked. “It’s a hippie shirt.”
“Yeah, well I’m very hippie-like.” She retorted, grabbing a banana.
“What time’s work?” I said, changing the subject.
“I gotta get ready after I eat. What are you gonna do today? Any interviews?”
“Nah, I think I’m holding out for something bigger.” Not that it mattered, I had enough money stored up to last me longer than a dubstep remix of Free Bird.
“Logan, you’re not going to have enough money to pay rent soon at this rate.” Of course, she didn’t know.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Do you need the car today for anything?”
“No. If I do I’ll just call Enterprise.”
“That’s ridiculous. You can’t afford that.”
Yes I could.
“It was a joke, Britney.”
No it wasn’t.
“Well, you’ve got no plans today and I’ll be stuck at work. So give me a ride just in case.”
“Oh, come on! I was just about to watch the news! Plus the weather’s terrible out there. There’s an ice storm headed our way.”
“So you’d rather I drive alone?” “Fine, fine.” I grunted, reluctantly grabbing the keys from her. She smiled sweetly at me and I wrapped my arm around d her as we stepped out into the wind. Her car was a piece of shit eighty-something Grand Marquis, but then again what can be expected from a girl who worked at a fast food joint? Sometimes I felt that she deserved a nicer car, and other times I felt she deserved to walk, so I just let it be.
With Canadian Trade Winds, hurricane leftovers and snowstorms all mixing in the middle, Kansas’s weather was constantly abnormal, especially in the fall months. I felt bad for the weathermen. The clouds begun their ice dance made special for us while we got into the car. Some sort of construction on my old high school held us up as we detoured. I kissed her goodbye and figured I’d make a pit stop at the Dillon’s since I had the car anyway.
I tucked my chapped lips in to the front of my coat and marched up to the doors, grabbing a cart and trekking across the aisles. Aisle eight proved fruitful. Down on the right, I saw a woman in white I’d recognize anywhere. “Janis?” Her long, wavy blonde hair bounced when she stood and spun.
She was wearing boots that made it appear as if there were six feet of snow outside, and tight blue jeans that featured her ass, topping it all off with a wonderfully white sweater that gave her D- breasts that perfect roundness only seen in cartoons. God, I loved sweaters on women. She smiled wide and I saw her tongue transfer her gum from one side to the other. “Hey Logan! What are you up to?”
“Still hangin’ around this town. You?” Janis and I had a special relationship. She was my first; I wasn’t hers. Whenever one of us broke up with someone, we’d call the other up and arrange for a short affair. Maybe it was to help ease the breakup, or to get fucked by someone new and fresh but also familiar. Or maybe it was just because it gave us an excuse to keep fucking each other.
“I’m good,” she said, smacking that gum around her pearly white teeth, “I just got a job as a dental assistant”
“That explains the glare. How’s your mom?” That smile faded so fast it had to be a record.
“Well, you know, she never really got better. She passed about six months back.” Janis was a real trooper, fighting back those tears, “But we actually found a pretty good spot for her. She’s buried just a few plots over from your parents.” If I had a smile, it wouldn’t have faltered. My mourning ritual had long since passed.
“Under that tree?”
“That is a good spot.” We stood in an awkward silence before she snapped herself out of it.
“So, how’s…Betty, was it?” She was jealous. Before Britney, the longest dry spell we’d had was three months.
“It’s still Britney, actually, and I just dropped her off at work.”
“Aw, that’s too bad.” She said, giving me a once over, “I’ve been single for awhile now, concentrating on school and stuff. Now that I’m set, I figured I could slack off a little.” She put her hand on my shoulder. A shame I wasn’t a cheater. I hated that the only time I could resist a woman was when I already had one, but that’s the way it was.
“Sorry, Jan,” I took her hand off me, “You know my rules. Whenever we end it I’ll shoot you an email.”
“Well, until then.” She turned back around to continue her shopping. Just because I was able to resist her didn’t mean my dick was. I had to get to a bathroom to finish what she started. When I came back she was gone and so was my cart. I grabbed a hand basket and a few dairy products before checking out.
I could’ve sworn the lady at the register knew what I had done. She was giving me a look. On my way back from the store I drove by Priscilla’s, an adult toy store, and pulled in to check out the goods. The selection was limited, but it was also the middle of Kansas, so I didn’t expect any live shows or anything. I saw a package of beginner bed restraints. She’ll never go for that, I thought as I placed them on the counter.
The indifferent woman handed me my bag and I wondered what she thought, if anything. I couldn’t do a job like this. I’d spend half my shift in the bathroom for all the people checking out with something kinky. My dick would be so raw I couldn’t have sex. What a bittersweet life. When I got home I remembered that I had yet to shower, so I stuffed the groceries in the fridge, still in the bag and stripped myself on the way to the bathroom.
I always found showers relaxing to the nth degree. I even went so far as to lie down in the shower, which everyone always found weird when I brought it up. So I stopped telling people. The hot water that poured over me was like a very thin blanket of warmth and it made the rest of the room that much cooler, so I could enjoy both extremes simultaneously. I adjusted the temperature with my feet. Laziness disguised as innovation.
After finishing my homemade sauna I wiped down the mirror and stared at myself, giving me a good hard once over. Still young, time on my side, no early signs of a potbelly, and fit enough for government work; of course I’d probably need a bit of a trim if it were the army. My shit brown hair always looked black when it was wet and crept down to my eyebrows. I always preferred to have a smooth face, but my laziness prevented that most of the time, so a little scruff had become acceptable to me.
Today, however, I was feeling up to the effort. I took out the razor and cream, cleaned myself up and put on a fresh set of clothes. I turned the TV on and let it play in the background while I decided on a sandwich. The news had started and the anchor was reporting some attack, going to the scene of the crime with a reporter. I always loved how awkward it was whenever they reported violent crimes.
I didn’t condone what the offender was doing, but it’s surprising the amount of funny that could come out of a news reporter voice. He could talk about a baby being shot in the face and it’d be like watching some raunchy HBO standup. When the story was over I went into the bedroom, filled my stereo with Zevon CD’s and put it on shuffle, before coming back to the living room to sit and smoke until Britney got home. A bit of existentialism hit me while the cancerous substance hung in the air. I thought about this place I was living in and the life I was leading.
As it always was with existentialism, time escaped me, or perhaps I escaped time. Britney walked in around ten to the fog that was my living room. Guess I got a little carried away with the smoking. She coughed and tried to look around. I just watched her. It was kinda funny. She turned back around and went outside. I stood up to follow her, but suddenly felt very queasy and ran to the bathroom to throw up.
Then I went out to talk to her.
She was leaning on the rail of the porch outside the house. “Sorry about that. Lost track of time and my body went into autopilot with the cigarettes.” I said. “How’d you get home?”
“Anna gave me a ride.” She coughed an adorable cough as I approached. I leaned in and kissed her, forgetting I had just puked and didn’t brush. The kiss lasted long enough for her to gag and spit off the rail. “Logan! What the fuck?” She spit some more and opened the door, pushing past the smoke.
I let the living room air out, remembering I left my bed restraints in the car. When I came back inside, she had changed into her pajamas already; an unsettling sign. That was another bad thing about long relationships and also something I never understood. The sex decreases, but neither person involved actually desires sex less. I showed her the bag from Priscilla’s.
She just stared at it.” I thought you might wanna try a little spice.” I pulled out the bed restraints and put them on the table. She picked them up.
“How does it work?” She asked, examining the box.
“It’s easy.” I began, “It goes in-between the mattress and the springboard. Then the restraints hang over the corners.”
“I don’t know, Logan. That’s pretty kinky.”
“Oh, come on. Bondage is a perfectly normal fetish.” She looked at me and couldn’t hold back her laughter. I sighed as she covered her mouth, coming in close.
“I’m sorry, all right? We’ll try it. Just…not tonight.” She kissed me on the cheek and I could smell her minty fresh breath. She sat down to the TV while I went into the kitchen to fix myself a glass of Vodka and Vodka. I stood on the linoleum and leaned on the marble, watching Britney watch TV. That was the first time that I actually thought of our future together, and whether or not it was worth whatever time we had left in each other’s lives.