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Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2007 Sixties Erotica Contest
First Prize

Savage Nights

“Stop,” Bobby said.

“I’m not doing a thing.”

We were in his 1965 Mustang in the lot across from the high school where we’d graduated two days earlier—Dunlap High, Class of ’67. Christiana Creek bubbled nearby and a breeze rattled the corn on the other side of the creek.

I snuggled and nibbled his earlobe.

“You know that drives me crazy,” he said.

My blouse was open. His class ring dangled on a chain between my bare breasts. I turned and slid into the back seat. “Come on, if you want to go again.”

“Shit, you know I do.”

“Here.” I spread a blanket across the seat. “We don’t want to ruin the leather.”

  He helped me out of my jeans for the second time that night. “It’s not leather. It’s Naugahyde. Anyway, I don’t give a damn.”

  He wriggled out of his jockey shorts. I lay down, an armrest across the small of my back, and opened my legs.

“Yeah, but I do, and that’s the difference between us.”

He kissed me, his tongue swirling inside my mouth. He tasted of beer and cigarettes and the cheeseburger he’d eaten at Ozzie’s Drive-In two hours earlier. “There ain’t do difference between us.”

I reached below his flat belly, grasped his hard cock, and guided him to my opening. I was wet and musky as a field of mushrooms. “I just meant ... ”

  “It don’t matter. This is all that matters.”

He thrust and I lifted my hips to greet him.

The car rocked. Over his shoulder, the rear window steamed. I felt a quickening between my thighs. Then no sooner had it begun than it was over. He exploded into me, his heat in mine.

“I love you, Bobby,” I whispered.

“I love you, too, Trish.”

Even then I knew— it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either, because neither of us had a clue what it meant.

Three weeks later, Bobby enlisted in the Army. Never mind there was a war raging in Viet Nam and they were shipping boys home in body bags by the thousands. Never mind the war was lost and even the President knew.

I said, Bobby, have you lost your fucking mind? He said, it was a tough job, but someone had to do it. I said, yeah, but that don’t mean you.

His best friend Mike begged him not to go. Make love, not war, man. But that was easy for Mike to say. He had a student deferment from the draft and a scholarship to Ball State. You know, Testicle Tech, Blue Ball U.

That was his ticket out of Dunlap.

Anyway, Bobby’s mind was made up. Now I understood why he hadn’t cared if we’d ruined the back seat of his Mustang. He’d planned to sell it all along, when he shipped out.

A few days following his big announcement, Bobby gave me a line about needing to get his head together before going off to shoot people. He quit his job and he and Mike loaded the trunk of Mike’s Chevy Nova with beer. They set off to find America in Bobby’s last three weeks of civilian life.

They didn’t ask, if I’d like to go.

When Bobby waved goodbye, I raised my middle finger and held it high until the Nova was out of sight.

That evening, I pedaled my bike to our make-out spot. I sat on the creek bank smoking Virginia Slims. I swatted mosquitoes and grabbed for fireflies.

Music played on my transistor radio. The Jefferson Airplane sang “I Need Somebody to Love.” The Beatles did “Penny Lane.” Then this chick Bobby Gentry started crooning about some guy named Billy Joe throwing something off the Tallahatchie Bridge. That song made me so sad I started to cry.

After I got it out, I wasn’t sad anymore. Just hurt and pissed. I ripped Bobby’s class ring from my neck and threw it into the creek.

I didn’t want the damn thing, and he sure as hell wouldn’t need it where he was going.

That summer, I lived at home and waitressed at the Checkerboard Tap. Because I worked days and my mom worked nights, we hardly saw each other. It wasn’t a bad thing. She hadn’t been the same since my dad lost his job at Studebaker and struck out for parts unknown. When she wasn’t working, she was sleeping or hanging at the bars with her best friend Noreen.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them how ridiculous they looked, hair in beehives, dressed up like Nancy Sinatra in mini-skirts and boots.

We lived in Sunnyside Estates. A train track ran beside our subdivision and separated us from the Shady Acres trailer park across the way. Thing is, there wasn’t a tree standing in Shady Acres or anything stately about Sunnyside. Just row after row of boxy little houses.

Trains ran all night. I’d sit on the porch, smoke cigarettes and listen to their long, low whistle.

I could have called my friends, Nancy or Rhonda, but that meant having to explain about Bobby and me. That meant having to explain about his class ring. Besides, since graduation, it wasn’t the same. Like a nine ball rack exploded by a break shot, we’d gone our separate ways. The class of ’67 had begun its solitary trek into adulthood.

So, I smoked and listened to trains.

Until our new neighbors moved in.

I met Wendy Goldfinger a few days after Bobby and Mike left town. She arrived at the rental next door in a Volkswagen mini-bus. The bus was painted psychedelic colors with flowers and sunbursts. She wore an ankle-length skirt. Up top, braless breasts swam beneath a tie-dye t-shirt. A bouquet of daisies was tucked into the headband that captured her long blonde hair.

No sooner had Wendy’s sandals hit the ground than one young man climbed out the rear of the bus and another came around from the passenger’s side. Buck was tall and dark. Thick fur showed beneath his leather vest. Curly hair fell on his shoulders and black eyes flashed behind a Jesus beard. Jude, the other guy, was tan and muscular with sea-blue eyes and a surfer’s smile.

Wendy strode across the yard and unlocked the door to their new house. The men started unloading their stuff. I lit another cigarette and pretended not to watch. After a few minutes, Wendy reappeared.

“Shitter works,” she announced.

Then she placed her hands on her hips and looked around. When her eyes fell on me, she called out. “Hey, sweetie, you got any weed?”

“See,” Wendy said through a purple haze, “the universe is like wheels inside of wheels, like one of those Russian Babushka dolls, dolls inside of dolls. The wheels turn, the dolls shrink. We’re all connected. It goes on and fucking on.”

“Heavy,” Buck said. He sat next to her on their yard-sale loveseat that smelled of Indian curry and cat piss.

Jude reached out, removed the roach from Buck’s fingers, took a deep drag, then passed it to me.

I’d never tried weed before, but I liked the way it made me feel. The room glowed pink and soft. I floated in the haze.

“I never thought of it like that,” I told Wendy.

“It’s all about opening your mind and letting the sun shine in.”

She was twenty-four, an artisan, a creator of silver and gold ornaments. Buck had completed two tours of duty in “The Nam,” as he called it, but was now dedicated to bringing the war to an end. Jude was Buck’s cousin, a couple of years older than me. He played guitar and wrote music. They were on their way from New York to San Francisco.

“Wheels,” Jude said to no one in particular. “That’s so far out.”

Wendy lit incense and candles. She sifted through a stack of records, selected The Doors, and fit the album onto the turntable. She began to dance to those first hard driving chords of “Break on Through.” She spun and tripped through the room. She raised her skirt over her knees, revealing strong thighs. Beneath the thin top, her breasts rolled. There were no steps to this dance, just joy on the move.

She curled a finger at me. “C’mon, sweetie, shake that thing.”

Reluctantly, I rose to my feet and began to dance. I wore short, tight cut-offs and a t-shirt. I felt the unexpected heat of Buck and Jude’s eyes on me.

I knew the men who came to The Checkerboard saw something in me they liked. I’d overheard them admiring my ass and legs. They said I had boobs to die for. Bobby wanted me, of course, but that was just Bobby—I’d known him since third grade. It came as a surprise that anyone else would want me. I still thought of myself as a skinny brunette with pimples and glasses.

But here I was, shaking it, teasing these men like a gypsy in the firelight. It made me feel powerful and womanly in a way I’d never felt before.

When we reached “The End,” Wendy crashed into Buck’s lap. I continued to dance and it took me a moment to realize they were kissing. Then he had her top off and a hand up her skirt. She touched him through his jeans.

I felt Jude’s hand on my elbow.

“C’mon,” he said.

We walked outside and leaned against the mini-bus. He lit a Winston and I lit another Virginia Slim.

“They get a little carried away,” he said.

“Hey, I’m cool.”

Not as cool as I pretended to be.

“Yeah, but they hardly know you.”

Far above, waves of multi-colored light rolled across the sky. “Look,” I said.

“What is it?”

“The Northern Lights. We get them every summer.”

He rummaged inside the mini-bus, found a blanket, and spread it on the ground. We lay on our backs, taking in the incredible display. He talked about growing up in New Jersey, about swimming at The Shore, about trips into The City. He said he’d played gigs in The Village and even met Bob Dylan and Joan Baez there.

I half-believed him.

I talked about growing up in crummy, little Dunlap. I explained about Bobby and me. A train passed on the tracks, not thirty yards away. Over the clanking of metal on metal, I said I’d give anything to get out of this place.

“Come to San Francisco,” he said. “Wear some flowers in your hair.”

“San Francisco?” It was too far away to imagine.

“Sure? Why not? Besides, I gotta’ go somewhere.”

He confided that he was on the run, after burned his draft card and failing to show up for his physical. “If enough of us say no, we’ll bring the military-industrial complex to its knees,” he told me.

“What if they catch you?”

“They won’t catch me.”

He rolled, stretched his body over mine, and worked a knee between my legs. He pushed my hair out of my face. “Come to The Haight. We’ll get high every night, make love every day.”

“I don’t ... ”

He kissed me and tugged at my t-shirt. Inside his bell bottoms, his cock pulsed like the aurora borealis.

I pushed him away. “I’m not ready for that with you.”

He rolled off with a sigh. He spooned me and ran gentle fingers through my hair. “I really dig you.”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend.”

“If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”

“Not tonight.”

I wasn’t ready to fuck him, but I liked the way his body fit against mine. I liked the way it felt to be held. After a while, I placed one of his hands on my breast. He squeezed and kissed the nape of my neck.

From inside the house, we heard Wendy cry out. “Yes, yes, fucking yes.”

“Wow.” I’d never experienced anything like that in the back of Bobby’s Mustang.

“Sounds like she got hers,” Jude said through a snicker.

His hardness pressed between my ass cheeks. He rolled my nipple in his fingers. I turned and sat up. He started to do the same, but I pinned him down with a hand on his chest. With my other hand, I unbuttoned his fly and reached inside.

“What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t have to, if ... ”

But I wanted to. “Just relax.”

I wet my hand with saliva and began to stroke. His eyes rolled in his head. His hips rose and fell to my rhythm

“Fuck, yeah,” he said.

I stroked harder, faster. “You like it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Don’t stop.”

Just before he shot, I pushed up my t-shirt. I rubbed his flesh against mine. “Jesus, yes, Jesus,” he groaned, as he gushed onto my breasts.

A low moan escaped my lips.

Then I was suddenly cold and wet in the night air. I kissed him, stood, and started across the yard.

“Hey,” he called after me.

I wiped his stickiness on my cut-offs and kept walking. When I passed the porch of my new neighbors’ house, Buck leaned against the railing. He was naked except for under shorts, and I tried not to look at his lean, hairy body. He waited until I was even with him, before he spoke.

“Those nights in ‘Nam,” he said.

“What did you say?”

A faraway look haunted his face. “Those nights in ‘Nam.”

“What about them?”

“They were savage. The nights were fucking savage.”

He looked like he was about to cry. Wendy strode through the door, wearing an Army shirt and nothing else. She took her man by the arm.

“C’mon, Buck. I’m here now.”

He didn’t resist when she steered him inside. She spoke to me over her shoulder. “He’s still a little freaked about the war.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “Definitely.

I sleep-walked through my days, serving burgers and fries. As soon as my shift ended, I was by Wendy’s side. The men found work at one of the RV factories, so we had a little time to ourselves before they showed up hungry and horny.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Wendy explained, “working for The Establishment.”

She was making brownies. But these weren’t just any brownies. You’d walk on the moon after eating these brownies.

We’d met only nine days ago, but I felt like I’d known her forever.

She was smarter than my mom, my teachers. She knew way more than my friends. “So, how else would you get money?”

“We don’t need money. We can live off the land. Everyone contributes and we share. You do your thing. I do mine.”

“I don’t know how to do anything.”

“Then you apprentice with someone like me who knows how to garden, who knows how to sew, who knows how to cook.”

“I guess it could work.”

“It has to. Otherwise, we’ll blow ourselves up with The Bomb.”

It wasn’t a very pleasant alternative. “How long have you known Buck?”

“In this life, about a year.”

“This life?”

“We knew each other in a previous life. It’s why we’re soul mates.”

“He seems to make you happy.”

She poured the brownie batter into a baking dish. We took turns licking the mixing bowl with a wooden spoon. “He won a Silver Star in the war. He fucks like he fights.”

“Wow,” I managed. Nancy and Rhonda wouldn’t even admit to having sex, much less talk about it like this.

“Are you fucking Jude, yet?” she asked.

I turned away. Jude and I were still stuck on hand jobs, but I didn’t tell Wendy. “Not exactly.”

She popped the brownies into the oven. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“A what? I don’t know. I guess. Sure. Why not?”

She pulled herself onto the kitchen counter. “If you’d had one, you’d know. Have you ever rubbed yourself?”

“You mean ... ”

She hiked up her skirt, revealing a tangled thicket. She opened her legs, then used her fingers to spread her lips. “Here’s the spot,” she said, touching the little bump at the top of her slit. “Rub yourself until you can’t stand it. You’ll know when to stop.”

A red burn scorched my face. “I know that.”

She gave me a sisterly smile and lowered her skirt. Her scent filled the room, making me blush even more. “We’re all children of The Universe, sweetie. Go with it.”

“Children of the Universe?”

“Dust in the wind.”

The next evening, Jude and I were on our blanket when we heard Wendy’s cries.

We exchanged a knowing glance. “Let’s go,” I said.

I pulled him after me. We hunkered outside a bedroom window, peeking through the screen. We saw them in the candlelight, Wendy on all fours with Buck behind. Her pendulous breasts swung free as he ploughed into her.

Jude’s breath was hot in my ear. “Damn,” he said

I reached behind and lifted my skirt. Jude pushed my panties aside. He sought an entry I could no longer deny. His fingers in my pussy sang a squishy tune.

Buck smacked Wendy’s ass hard enough to make her yelp.

I fumbled with Jude’s belt. His cock sprang free.

“I want you,” he whispered.

I wasn’t thinking about Bobby anymore. I really wasn’t thinking about Jude, but I wanted his cock. “Do it,” I said. “Go ahead, do it.”

He pushed and I pushed back. He fucked me standing up, slow and sweet. On the other side of the screen, Buck’s tight butt worked, slap, slap, slap. Wendy ground against him. Suddenly, her belly clinched. She writhed and grunted like a construction worker.

I wanted some of that.

I slid a hand inside my panties. While Jude pumped, I rubbed.

Wendy flipped onto her back and Buck knelt beside her. She took him in her mouth. He pumped in and out, then threw back his head and squirted white and hot across her lips. She gathered his cream in her hands and licked her fingers clean.

Behind me, Jude shuddered and gasped. I felt that quickening between my thighs, but this time I didn’t let go. I rubbed and rubbed, overcome with longing. It began like the rumble of distant artillery fire. Red and green tracers zipped past and shells burst in a dazzle. The night exploded into a thousand heartless shards. My knees buckled and Jude held on to keep me from falling.

Yes, yes, fucking yes.

They’d intended to stay the summer and earn a little money before moving on, but The Man was onto Jude. Blue suits showed up in town asking about hippies. “We’re outta’ here tonight,” Wendy told me.

The guys had already taken the mini-bus to the lot by the creek for a paint-job makeover.

I’ve got some things to do,” I told her. “Don’t you dare leave before I get back.”

I called in sick and rode my bike to town. I hated that job anyway. My first stop was the bank. I’d saved most of my wages and tips—$500. I kept $450 for myself and used the balance to replace Bobby’s class ring. Sort of. The man at the pawnshop didn’t have this year’s ring, but he had plenty from a few years earlier.

It would have to do.

Then I went home and packed.

Then I wrote Bobby a letter.

I wrote that if we’d really been meant for each other, he’d have found a way to stay home instead of going off to war, he’d have spent his last three weeks before Basic with me instead of Mike, he’d have given the Mustang to me instead of selling it to the first guy who answered his ad. If we’d really been meant for each other, we’d probably have met in a previous life.

Finally, I wrote that he should be careful in The Nam.

I’d heard the nights were savage there, fucking savage.

I left my mom a note, too. I was going to San Francisco, but she didn’t have to worry because there were gentle people there, people who wanted only peace and love. We were all children of the Universe.

I left Dunlap that evening in the mini-bus, repainted a dull black to hide the psychedelic hippie shit underneath.

Wendy lit a reefer and passed it around. Buck pointed the mini-bus into the sunset. Jude held my hand, looking more stoned than usual.

Dunlap disappeared behind us.

And the rest is history.

Alicia Night Orchid is the author of erotic stories appearing on Ruthie’s Club, Cleansheets, Oysters and Chocolate, Sliptongue, and the Erotic Reader’s and Writer’s Gallery. Her first e-book, Fulfillment and other Erotic Stories, is available at She is currently at work on her first novel, an erotic legal thriller. Visit her at

The story “Savage Nights” was inspired by a combination of personal experiences and stories I heard from my parents and their aging boomer, hippie friends.

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Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2007 Sixties Erotica Contest
First Prize