Adonis Diaries

Posts Tagged ‘Houston

Introspection: Hilda (Addendum #7)

You’re Hungry, Eh!? (Nov. 2002)

Every single book in her apartment was wrapped in a plastic bag. She was allergic to dust. Hell, she was allergic to almost everything. She kept a huge, black Labrador inside. Maybe the plastic bags were to keep her dear dog from getting unduly dusty. The place smelt of dog in every pore of it: Another overpowering odor that can hugely depress me. The dog was her best friend, maybe her unique real friend. Hilda was dead confident that she could see her dog smile and feel him/her when depressed; yes, Hilda had a thorough knowledge of the dog psychological moods.

Like many women there, dogs are at the center of their lives. Crucial decisions were based on the dog feedback. A husband, boyfriend or whoever, was to agree with the dog emotions or vacate immediately.

What is it with indoor dogs? I know a friend of mine who married an American girl. She was a political activist, and lived with her lifetime dog. Many years later and now married to a Lebanese girl and living in Lebanon, my friend still keeps a dog indoor. I do suspect the dog is a living prompter of a past when he was younger, happier, very much in love, with big expectations and ready to improve the world dialectically, and ultimately, taming these blood-sucking, capitalist imperialists.

Hilda was with a girl friend of hers at a dark dancing club. Hilda had black thinning hair, cropped very short, in spikes. Heavy, thick and non colored prescription glasses were hiding her eyes. She looked desperate for a lay and her eyes followed me persistently. Her girl friend was nudging her and encouraging her to make a move. Hilda finally managed to invite me to dance with her. I reluctantly agreed.

Hilda drove me in her car to her place at the outskirt of town. In the much better lighted room, I noticed villain large blue blotches on both her arms. I needed to run away on the spot, but for my acquired politeness, I decided to stay a little longer.

For the first time I saw her feet.  They were neat, large and strong. I liked these feet. A woman with feet like that signal to me security and protection for her male. So, we shared a hot bath. I sponged and massaged leisurely her feet more than needed.

Hilda turned out not to be so desperate tonight.

She asked plenty and well targeted questions. She wanted to come to a safe decision, for a safe sex. Meanwhile, I reached the part of my life story where I admitted being born in Africa and that I lived there, lately, for a year. I could hear the click in her mind:  Oh! No, no and no! What about AIDS and the million other diseases, stupid!

Damnation! I thought that I won’t be seeing these feet again.

We cuddled up in bed, stark naked, Including her thick eyeglasses and mine.

God! She had really beautiful large green eyes, and her face was just lovely, lying on a bed and without glasses. Hilda displayed round and hard bosoms, a slim waist and an exquisite stomach, lean and mean for her age. She had a perfect body in bed, but for these large blue blotches on her arms.

Damned feet! They got me over excited and cut short on my foreplay. She liked to kiss very much, kissed me all over my gorgeous body. I mounted her in haste and tried to penetrate her clumsily and in vain. She wouldn’t let me in, no way.

I ejected prematurely between her soft thighs. Hilda was in the meantime in ecstasy;

She was frankly moaning which increased my bewilderment and dejection.

Hilda had decided that no intercourse is to be consummated with this African touring man. I turned over on my back and blurted out: “Oh boy, am I hungry!” She lost her control and screamed: “Hungry, eh!? You want to eat right now, eh!? Right away, eh!? What’s wrong with you men?  You feel hungry right away? What about resting a while longer?”

This early ejection reminds me of another story with Helga over seven years earlier.

She was a middle-aged German, working at a luxury restaurant. In her dim room with a leopard spread cover on her bed, I was frantically trying to enter her, and vigorously making love to her. After I ejected, she sadly but forcefully said:

“God damn it Adonis, didn’t you know that you were still out?”

I decided, then and there, to ask my future bed companions to insert me themselves. It turned out to be a great rewarding decision in life.

Let us go back to our original story with Hilda and not Helga the German middle-aged woman. We had breakfast sooner than expected. Hilda made up for losing her temper a minute ago. Back to bed, she gave me a brain liquefying blow job. The process was thorough, complete from A to Z. She acted as if she was enjoying a delicious ice cream cone: A lick from the top, then several on the sides.

She kept at me after I was long done, and I experienced a forced lasting erection. I patronized her place a couple of times more for her expert specialty when I come to think of liquid or liquefaction or ice cream.

If you are interested in a girl from down South, please, do not mention visiting Africa.

Introspection: Kim (Addendum #4)

What’s Wrong With You Men! (Nov. 2002)

She was separated from a Yugoslavian guy and was taking care of her two years old boy. Korean by origin, she was a peculiar beauty and somewhat chest flat. I don’t recall her name. Yes, it is Kim, or at least the odds are high for Kim. Kim for Kimberly, the odds could be much lower. The story is in Houston 1978.

She used to dance with every guy who asked her to dance. Rumors were spreading that she needs a man. I danced with her.  She enjoyed my dancing. Kim gave me her phone number with some prodding.

I called her the next day for efficiency reasons but she kept giving me excuses. I called her often to refresh her memory of which guy I might be. Many calls and persistence gave fruits for a date. She gave me her full address with directions.

I visited Kim at her apartment and was surprised to see her baby boy. She needed a listening ear and valiantly tried to make conversation. Warding off my hot hands, my hands were valiantly responding to her talk. Kim gave in.  It was quick.

I felt sorry. She felt sorry. Helplessly she said:” What’s wrong with you men? All you have in mind is that!”

I never felt so ashamed, so little and insignificant in my life. I felt a surge of great pity for her and for myself. I wished I could make up for a lifetime friendship with her.

It could not be possible. When a relationship fails at the start, women know better not to resume.

Introspection: Raine (addendum 2)

Raines is my Initiator; or May Be Not.  (Nov. 2002)

My roommate used to travel two hours on weekends to work as a bartender at an Army base in Lawton.  He spent the rest of the week studying to be a pharmacist in Oklahoma City.  He was my roommate in Norman; one hour away to school, the other direction from work. I drove in his Spitfire one fall weekend in 1977 for a birthday party.

Linda and Raines were there, and I have never met them before. Linda was utterly gorgeous and tall. Her red-headed girl friend was sort of rotund and short, with a lovely face. Uncharacteristically, I was in a good humor. I think that I was funny in my French accent or in any of the several languages I know.

My conversation was mostly of small talks, and still is mostly. I naturally act drunk on water and orange juice when I’m around a captive audience of lovely girls. Linda picked me as her companion for the evening.  She would not separate from me. My roommate had the eyes for Linda for some times prior to the event.

Being a better Casanova than me, he cut me off several times and managed to keep Linda for the night. I had many proofs that my friend is an unchallenged Casanova. I once met the most beautiful girl on Earth while seeing a movie on campus, solo as usual. I didn’t even ask her “What’s your name”.

A week later, coming to our apartment at midnight, at the closing hour of the main library on campus, “The most beautiful girl” was there with him, supposedly studying together. It was a blistering cold night and I had to visit the bathroom urgently. Coming out, she had vanished. “Where is she?” I asked my roommate. He joked: “She heard the Niagara Falls of your piss and got a fright.”

“Do you realize that she is the one I told you was the most beautiful girl?” He recovered from his surprise and said: “She had been after me for a while. She definitely wants me. I guess that I will not touch her for the sake of your feelings.” I believed him, at least for not making any further moves himself.  Lisa was studying pharmacy too. I met her five years later at a bar in Norman and I barely talked to her. She was selling for a drug company.

I had the impression at the party that a certain deal was agreed on behind my back. Raines promptly made her move as my new girl friend. I acquiesced reluctantly.

A week later, the two girls paid us an evening visit. It was implicitly clear how the division was arranged. I felt terribly jittery and somehow uncooperative. I was not comfortable with the realization of my de facto coming “initiation”.  I delayed as much as I could.  I suggested taking a hot bath.

Raines agreed cheerfully and we played like kids, splashing water and all. The other couple was heard laughing at us and giggling in the next room. What was to be done was almost inevitable. I am not sure who turned off the light in my bedroom but it suited me grandly. I requested that she mounts me, Raines being the expert, a single mother with a child. I wish I was candid with Raines: It would have saved me much grief, pain and humiliation.

She mounted me with fugue. Her rubbing on my uncircumcised prick was extremely harsh. The pain was humongous, shooting through my body and spreading to my head. I reasoned that this might be the normal price when you commit a major Sin. I was not to be initiated that night and did not sleep a wink.

It felt extremely sensitive and looked swollen and violet. I could not suffer any contact with any fabric, especially the kinds of Raines’ fabric. For three days I wore a Jallabieh, a large loose white tunic. For three days I looked ridiculous on campus. I checked at the University clinic. The lady physician referred me to a male “specialist”.

A close friend of mine accompanied me to the specialist. The doctor was cool and within three seconds covered the head of my rod with the retracted skin. Yeah, it was a rod since that fateful night, and I wish it stays so for the duration of my active life. The physician trained me how to retract the skin and cover it back. I was to exercise this new game twice a day for the rest my active life.

My friend had a quick chat with the physician and emerged saying: “Adonis, is this your first time?” “Oh, no, no, certainly not the first time” I replied.

He was obviously on the right track but I denied it to save a standing manhood honor, not vehemently though.

Damn it, his assumption was not correct either.  It was not even the first time. I was still at zero time and terribly anxious and puzzled. Incredible! I am not totally sure who initiated me even now. It might be Sonja:  I remember she told me that I needed practice.

Sonia, Sonja, originally from Indonesia and living in Houston, invited me to her apartment.  I was her neighbor and had expressed my appreciation for her beauty. She met me wearing a Geisha outfit, white socks and Geisha footwear. I was re-appreciative for her originality and complemented her beauty. Sonia admitted that I showed progress in my performances the night I bade her farewell before I flew back to my Lebanon in 1979.

Since the physician’s recommended exercise was to last forever and for a lifetime I thus decided to be circumscribed. I did not heal fast and could not see Raines anytime soon for a rematch. One morning, Raines drove two hours to see me. She did not have the heart to try my new implement. I suggested licking her cunt. The stench was awful, driving that long in a burning summer day, and I did not insist.

What’s with this crazy Napoleon? During his retreat from his failed Russian campaign, he mailed a letter to then his wife Josephine, telling her that he will be joining her soon and ordering her not to wash at all.

A year later, I called up Raines from Houston. I had two tickets for the Eagle’s concert and wanted to treat her well.  She called back 3 hours later with a negative answer. She said that she has recently converted to Jehovah Witnesses, that she is a born again Christian, and that too much fun of this kind is nefarious to her born again soul.

Houston, Texas


I was called from Houston, Texas, to aid in the organization of a party.  I purchased a beat up car just to move to Houston.  It was a long drive of 20 hours at night and my first alone; that was courage or desperation which ever you decide.  I slept in temporary comrades’ places, because I had no money to rent.  Many knew me very well though I had no recollection (read my section on faulty memory).

Within three months of search and applications I worked with a crane production industry.  I got the job after I attended an evening meeting and barbecue with the association of the University of Oklahoma graduates in Houston; a rich corporate member recommended me to this company.   

I was dismissed within 3 months because I felt out of place and not given any encouragement within my field.  Actually, this position was supposed to be a temporary job before being sent to Iran with the mother company Schlumberger, specialized in equipments for oil production.

During my three months job my old car broke down several times and I spent the last dollar saved on shabby repairs and felt frustrated and disoriented.  After being fired I worked in small jobs like waiter in rush lunch hours in Downtown Houston and then in fast food restaurants and then in a Lebanese restaurant.

I got involved in Lebanese party politics in Houston and supposedly was the main coordinator among the “leftist alliance”, an amalgam of parties.  There was this group of three members that insisted of an equal authority with no responsibility for participating in activities and demonstration; the supposed leader of this group ended up disseminating horrible calumnies on me; I suspect that a terribly jealous member of our party coordinated the calumnies with him. Then I was lured by someone within my party (the same infamous “comrade”) to forge a US passport because he said it worked without any problems with others through US acquaintances. I fell into the trap of this bad intentioned comrade and was caught because the forged application as a born US citizen, supposedly emanating from a nearby town, was obviously not professional and the copy of birth certificate was not up-to-date by any long shot.  I was convicted by a grand jury and spent a week in jail. I experienced this kind of life confinement that was not terrible since I managed to borrow books and I am not picky with food; I had some money which allowed me to purchase cigarette and share them with my cellmates; I recall that I was allocated the upper bunk and my mates respected a reading guy and didn’t bother me.  The worst part is the humiliation afterward.

I was released after the intervention of our ambassador in Washington DC.  I was supposed to owe $300 for a lawyer.  The party had to sort of “excommunicate” me and strip me of my responsibilities.  I spent a month with a lovable older comrade from Venezuela, of Lebanese origin, who was in Houston for complete health check up (many thanks to this Samaritan).

My brother-in-law, an officer in the Lebanese army sent me a new Lebanese passport because the previous one was confiscated. I went to the immigration office to give notice of my departure and they had “misplaced” my file; a judge had to verbally “record” my testimony; most probably my case was one of thousands that indicted many prominent personalities and my file was to be lost.  I spent a few days in Chicago with Nicholas and toured his university; I experienced snowy Chicago and the biting winds on the water front of the lake.  I returned to Lebanon in Christmas of 1979.




March 2023

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