Love in All the Right Places

By Christopher G. Bremicker

A description of love, physical and emotional. I described people I loved, such as relatives, close friends, and old flames. I included a wedding, a terrorist attack on a fast food restaurant, and a bash for high school classmates who turned seventy. There is a lengthy description of old flames.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher G. Bremicker
• Release date: Jun 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370094967

Christopher G. Bremicker

Special Forces medic, 1968 to 1970, stationed at Ft. Bragg, NC; BA in English and MBA from University of Minnesota and course work in business education at University of Wisconsin-Superior; fisherman, grouse hunter, downhill skier, handball player; customer service at Walgreen's, hometown: Cable, Wisconsin.

Book preview

LOVE IN ALL THE RIGHT PLACES

By Christopher G. Bremicker

Copyright 2017

Smashwords Edition

Cover Image by: Miss Mae

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

HIDING THE SALAMI

I described every girl I ever fucked.

MY OTHER TWO BEST FRIENDS

I was blessed with close friends.

THE SKYWAY SUBWAY

A terrorist plot left several dead.

STU

One of my best friends contracted cancer.

MY OLD MAN

I was close to my father whose advice was not always good.

MY OLD MAN II

He would cut off his balls to help me.

MY BROTHER

He liked to help me, provided it involved fishing, skiing, or hunting.

THE VAN DIJKS

I was close to a Dutch family.

MY UNCLE

I was close to one relative.

MY COUSINS

I came from a close family.

MY MOTHER

I was close to my mother, whose death stultified me.

THE WEDDING

I got depressed at my niece’s wedding, when I danced with my cousin’s wife.

COFFEE WITH STAN

My best friend and I had coffee twice a week.

GONE FISHING

My brother and I caught two catfish as I got over my alcoholic relapse.

ART HISTORY

I took an art history class at the university at the age of seventy and got an A minus.

A STORY LIKE ANY OTHER

I craved alcohol and my A.A. sponsor came to my rescue.

HUNTING

My brother and I hunted all our lives.

THE PROVIDERS

I got sick and hundreds of people helped me.

THE FORMER GREEN BERET

A man acted heroically during an attack by an active shooter.

THE SEVENTY YEAR BASH

My high school class threw a party for classmates who turned seventy.

ANDREW

I made a new friend.

THE STORIES:

HIDING THE SALAMI

I

I grew up late and, when puberty hit, it hit hard. By then, Nikki, my first girlfriend, was grown and had small breasts, long legs, and slim hips. She and I were extremely attracted to each other.

I had a driver’s license and one night I drove Nikki home from Woman Lake Lodge at our cabin up north in my parents’ car. I stopped at the entrance to the road that led to her cabin, put the car in park, and reached over to her. She met me halfway on the car seat and we groped for each other. I felt her breasts and we were happy. It was our first sexual experience.

The next day we took a boat ride in her family’s speedboat and I stopped the boat in the middle of the lake, drew her to me, and tried to get into her bikini. She would not let me do this. She became unhappy, when I pushed her too far.

We drove to the dump every week and I felt her pussy, after I parked the car near the pit that contained refrigerators, Clorox bottles, mattresses, stoves, and junk people threw in the dump. Another night, after we went into town to try to get served alcohol, I laid her down on the car seat, took off her pants, and ate her out. She would have let me go all the way but I was inexperienced and unsure of myself.

One night a friend of my sister was staying at our cabin and we all went to a movie. I insulted Nikki in front of the other girls and called her a rag, which hurt her. When we got back to her cabin, Nikki and I got in the MGB sportscar our father bought us children and drove to town to have a drink.

We got served, I danced with her to the jukebox, then drove her home, weaving on the highway to impress her. She did not smile, resigned to what was going to happen. We got back to her cabin, the MGB was too small for sex, I put her in the back seat of her mother’s car, and fucked her. She submitted.

This was our first time, she was not impressed but the next day, when I came over to see her, she was dying for it. I walked her to the field behind her cabin, took off her shorts, laid her down on the grass, and fucked her again. This time, she liked it.

The next week, we took a boat ride. She wore a short skirt, under which I could see her panties. I drove the boat to the middle of the lake. I laid her down on the boat seat, hiked up her dress, took off her panties, and fucked her. She gasped when I entered her.

Our final time together was on the wooded point next to her cabin during a party her mother was throwing. We could hear the laughter coming from her cabin. Nikki and I were on the front bank, she unzipped my pants, and felt my erect penis. I walked her to the point where we had sex. We had oral sex for our first time. She got pregnant.

Her mother called me that winter and said Nikki aborted in the toilet. They bought a bassinette, she said. I drove to their small house in a housing development and apologized. We never had sex again.

I saw her years later after I developed psychological problems. I trolled our family fishing boat past her cabin, her daughter was on their dock, and, thinking she was Nikki, I said hello. She had Nikki’s long, black hair, long legs, and slim hips. The girl was beautiful, said Nikki was in their cabin, and I told her to give Nikki my regards.

Nikki appeared later at our cabin, where our family was getting ready for Sunday lunch prior to driving home. She wanted to have sex with me. She wanted to soothe my troubled soul. She looked like Helen of Troy.

We talked on our dock then I walked her to the road that led to her home and said goodbye. For some reason, I declined her offer. That was thirty years ago, I have not seen her since, and prayed she was happy.

She married four times and her last husband, a Native American with whom she lived on the reservation, was deceased. I considered driving up to see her but was concerned the encounter would go badly. It was a long drive, for a polite conversation.

Because of her four husbands, students at Nikki’s college called her the Indian Elizabeth Taylor. She had a post-menopause baby and made up for the spontaneous abortion of our baby. The child she never bore me was the closest I ever came to being a father. Nikki and I stayed as close as husband and wife.

II

Marjorie was an enthusiast too. In fact, she insisted on the stuff. At a pool party, she wrapped her legs around my neck and I walked her around the pool. It was lovely to feel her bare legs against my face.

At another party, this one at our house, she walked into my bedroom where I was sleeping. She sat down next to my bed and watched me. She wanted to get in bed with me but I never woke up. She told me this later.

As we left another party, I got my hands on her tits. We sat in my car before I started it to take her home. I slid my hand inside her bra and felt her big, hard tits. Her nipples were erect.

On the night before I went into the Army, she let me fingerfuck her. I tried to go all the way but she said, Let’s wait. We were up all night at her house then my parents drove me to the induction center.

On leave from the Army, I popped her cherry in the front seat of my father’s Cadillac, in front of our house. She said, Oh, darn, when I could not get it in. Then we managed. She didn’t know what to make of things either. The next night, behind her parents’ house, in the Cadillac, she straddled me and went nuts.

I pulled up her blouse and she gasped when her breasts pressed against my chest. She pounded her hips back and forth against me and I ejaculated on the dashboard. She was disappointed I came so soon.

When I got back from the Army, half the young men in Minneapolis made sure Marjorie’s cherry didn’t grow back. She developed a love of the stuff and a following. She invited me to a party and wore a knit dress of black lace. It was more skin than dress. I picked her up at her parents’ house. Her father was a minister. Half the boys at the party knew her.

She came over to my apartment one day and lay on my chest. She said she wanted to do it all night and all the next day. She did not want to start then and only let me put my finger in her mouth. She wanted me to love her. She thought, if I loved her, I would marry her.

I banged her on a chair in my apartment after an Ike and Tina Turner concert. She bought the tickets. There was a mix up on the seats and we sat on the air conditioner in the auditorium. She was not particularly aroused. I ejaculated into her and she got married a month later to a botanist.

I came over to her house to see her. She laid down on her carpet and took off her shoes but I declined, afraid to fuck a married woman. Marjorie did not like oral sex, which was a problem between us.

III

I never got laid in the Army, with two exceptions. One was a black girl who charged fifteen dollars. She wore a mink coat, was very small, thin, and pretty, and I had to pretend she was Nikki to come. I left my copy of James Joyce’s Ulysses in the hotel room where we completed the contract. I slapped her on the ass and said thanks.

I got the clap from her. The men in my outfit got a kick out of that. They applauded, when I walked into class, after I got a shot of penicillin.

IV

Once, a group of us drove south from San Antonio, over the Mexican border, to Nuevo Laredo. We all got laid in a place called Boys’ Town. There were broken bottles cemented to the top of a long brick wall that circled a compound. Inside, were twenty bars, each with one to ten girls, all dressed up, all pretty, who charged five dollars for sex, at the most.

We all sat at a table in one big bar and a few of the girls came over and sat on our laps. They wore satin dresses. We drank Mexican beer. I was nervous. It was too early in the evening to get laid and we wanted to look around the compound.

A friend and I walked in the night along the path between bars. An old Mexican woman, five feet tall with no teeth, stopped us, smiled, and said, Sucky, fucky, two dollars. We laughed and declined her offer.

We went into a bar called Popeye’s. A pretty, tall blonde in a sailor suit started rubbing my friend’s shoulder. He went into the back room with her. You stink, she said, when they came out. My friend looked embarrassed. Then it was my turn. She knew a few tricks and it was enjoyable.

When we were done, she stuck a garden hose up her pussy to wash out my semen. She squatted as she did so and looked up at me with dismay. It was part of the job, she seemed to say. She put on her sailor suit and got ready for her next customer. She cost my friend and I five dollars apiece.

I wondered how she got into prostitution. She was tall, pretty, and a nice girl. She did it to feed her family, I thought. Mexico was rife with poverty. Then my friend and I joined the others.

We watched a lesbian show of different international fucks. A pistol was a Wild West fuck, a drum was an English fuck, and a parasol was a Chinese fuck. We stood around a bed while two women who were five feet tall did this. We could not stop laughing.

Back at the big bar, one of us got a two-for-one special. He was a tall, well hung Texan. In the car, we laughed all the way back to base. That was it for the Army.

V

When I got out, my brother had a stag party for his wedding. One of his friends lined up a hooker. He, another friend, and I drove to southeast Minneapolis and went into an old house that looked like that of any old maid. It had a dining room table with a white lace table runner and sitting chairs by a window. There was a mirror above a dining room dresser. The hooker’s name was Pam.

We talked for a while about arrangements for the party. Then one of us asked if we could get a free sample. Pam banged all of us, one at a time. She said to our leader, You look like you eat it, and he ate her pussy, after we fucked her.

She sat in a towel at the window and talked to us. Then she fucked us again. I was in good physical condition, had a lot of stamina, and she called me Hercules. When I fucked her, she said she wished I was her old man.

At the party next week, the same two friends and I met Pam at the Cassius Bar, in a bad part of town. We sat around a table with Pam and two black girls. Then one of my friends went to the restroom.

Awhile later, he came out with a bloody face. He was rolled. He had the money. The bartender called the cops. No one leaves! our leader yelled. The cops showed up and took notes. We returned to the party at three o’clock in the morning, without the hookers, and without our eighty dollars.

People wondered why I did not beat up the man who rolled our friend. I was back from the Army and they wanted me to do something. I was afraid.

Our leader, who thought of this stuff, called it a classic night. The man who got rolled went to court. None of us went with him.

VI

Another time, I picked up a girl at a bar called Moby Dick’s on Hennepin Avenue. It was the worst bar in town and the city later closed it. A pool shark took ten dollars off me and another girl leaned over to me at the bar until she decided I was too polite.

The girl I took home was pudgy, pretty, loaded, and more loaded after I bought her a few. She insisted on getting into a nightie, before I let her have it in the bedroom of her house. I banged her and left, without words of endearment.

VII

Then I fucked a Chippewa Indian girl who liked it one night but chewed gum the next night. Her brother lived down the hall from my forty-five-dollar-a-month apartment. He was big and fat and could drink a case of beer and a gallon of wine in one night. Angela did well with the stuff too. Once, I balled her, with her two-year-old kid in the room. Angela tended to just lay there.

Angela, her brother, his wife, and I sat at a kitchen table somewhere in south Minneapolis and drank beer. Then I drove Angela back to my apartment, fucked her, and took her home. Her brother was passed out in his chair and unconscious when the sun rose.

I moved home to a respectable life. Her brother called me and said they wanted to get together. Angela wanted to see me, he said. I told him I had a prestigious job and he let me go.

VIII

Then I met Jane. She was gifted. She smoked my pipe for an hour and screamed when she got it straight up. The only furniture in her apartment was a bed and a box of birth control pills.

We got together at her going away party in the party room of her apartment building. We danced and she asked me up to her apartment with her, to look for her purse. I banged her for two hours then she went back to the party. She wanted me to lick her pussy but I deferred.

I fucked her the next day on the carpet of her living room. She claimed I came over only to make her. I slept with her the night before she left for a new job in St. Louis. She said I fucked her dry. I never saw her again. She probably had two hundred notches on her lipstick case.

One day, while reading the newspaper, I noticed a column written by Jane. The article was about real estate and it was reprinted from a St. Louis newspaper. It was her. She did quite well. When I knew her, she was a departing journalist for the department of corrections.

IX

Margaret was a set up. Her girlfriend wanted to know if I could screw. Margaret was her bait. I banged Margaret in her parents’ summer home on White Bear Lake after dinner out with the curious girlfriend and her husband. Margaret got it good and, with her girlfriend, all bets were off on me. Margaret’s cunt tasted like a wet penny.

After dinner, I drove her to the summer house, took off her clothes, and 69ed her. She said she could not accommodate me. She was a nice person, did not go crazy over sex, and did it to keep her girlfriend happy. Also, it was the Seventies, when sex was expected at the end of a date.

X

I took Kate out for the Hell of it. A mutual friend set us up. I couldn’t get into her. She came out of the bathroom of her expensive apartment wearing a towel. I gave it my best but I couldn’t get a