Exile EXILE ................................ ................................ ................................ ................................ ....................... 1 CHAPTER ONE MEMORY P ROTECT................................ ................................ ............................ 2 CHAPTER TWO ARTISTS ONLY................................ ................................ ................................ ...22 CHAPTER THREE GIMME SHELTER ................................ ................................ ......................... 51 CHAPTER FOUR SISTER, BROTHER ................................ ................................ .......................... 84 CHAPTER FI VE BODIES ................................ ................................ ................................ ................121 CHAPTER SIX BROTHERS IN ARMS ................................ ................................ ......................... 157 CHAPTER SEVEN DISCIP LINE ................................ ................................ ................................ ...193 CHAPTER EIGHT JUST A GIRL ................................ ................................ ................................ ..234 CHAPTER NINE LET IT BLEED ................................ ................................ ................................ ..291 CHAPTER TEN GIRLS ON FILM ................................ ................................ ................................ .333 CHAPTER ELEVEN HEART OF GOLD ................................ ................................ ......................398 EPILOGUE RESCUE ME ................................ ................................ ................................ ................434 Note: This is my story. The names and details have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved. Some of this account has been reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I kept during these years. Exile 2 Chapter One Memory Protect November 1981 It was just beginning to snow again when the sedan pulled u p to the curb. The window rolled down with an electric moan, and even across the sidewalk I could feel the heater. The driver looked over and beckoned me with a tilt of the head, but I had already started crossing the sidewalk. I knew why he’d pulled over. “Got the time?” I asked him as I leaned through the window. I’d been standing in the cold for nearly an hour; I would have done him for just ten minutes in his overheated car. “Yeah,” he said, taking a closer look at me. The electric door latch unlocked w ith a thump and I climbed into the passenger seat. I got a brief glimpse of him when I opened the door: fiftyish, balding, overweight, but with a neatly trimmed beard and wearing a nice suit. The car smelled of cologne and cigarettes, not at all unpleasant compared to some of the cars I’d been in over the past few months. “How old are you?” he asked. “How old do you think I am?” “Sixteen?” “Yup,” I said. I was really fourteen, but I’d learned the customer was always right. Exile 3 He grunted, sort of a cross betwe en a “huh” and a clearing of the throat, and then shifted in his seat. I knew the next thing out of his mouth would be “I’ve got a daughter your age”. “I’ve got a daughter your age,” he said. The look in his eyes said that this was worth at least an extra $25, even for a hand job. “Drive,” I said. “Cops’re gonna be along any second.” He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Where?” he said. “What do you want?” I knew plenty of quiet alleys and parking lots, good enough for a BJ or a quick jack , but if he wanted anything more we’d have to go to the rooming house on Chandler Street. I had a deal with the owner there. “Just um...just a...,” he stammered. “Head?” “Yeah.” “Sixty. Up front.” “Okay,” he said. “Take the next right, then a left on Thaye r Street. There’s a parking lot on the left, about halfway down the block.” Five minutes later we pulled into the unpaved lot, shielded from the brooding row of lofts by a van. Over the purr of the car’s engine I could hear a band rehearsing somewhere. “Here,” he said, pulling three $20 bills from his wallet. Exile 4 “Push the seat back,” I said. He reached down between the seat and the door and toggled an unseen switch. The front seat eased away from the dashboard with an electric whine. “What’s your name?” he ask ed as he undid his belt and trousers. “Lita,” I said, lying. My friend Cami told me never to use my own name. I’d chosen the name of a guitar player I liked, Lita Ford from the Runaways. “Rita?” “No, Lita.” “Lolita?” “Close enough,” I said, reaching betwee n his legs to fish his penis out of his boxer shorts. As I kneaded his half -erection he cupped my breasts through my sweater, gently squeezing them. It was a gesture purely for his own benefit; I felt his cock growing in my fingers as he fondled my tits. W hen he was hard I leaned over into his lap and took him in my mouth. He smelled a bit funky —sweaty, musky, a middle -aged man’s smell —but I’d smelled worse. His cock tasted faintly of urine but, again, I’d tasted worse. As I began to suck him I felt his han d roaming under my skirt, coming to rest on my bottom. “Suck me,” he muttered under his breath, “Suck it. Suck that cock, baby. Yeah, suck me...” He was a Talker. Some Talkers gave me the creeps, especially when they’d start to pretend I was someone they knew, a friend or co -worker for instance. I’d wonder what movie was playing inside their heads. A snuff film, perhaps? But most Talkers were benign, content to spin their little narrative while I serviced them, muttering a play-by-play they could recall la ter while they furtively jerked off in Exile 5 the office or at home. Nearly half the men I’d pleasured had been Talkers to some degree, from those who’d repeat “Aw, yeah” incessantly to men who referred to “that cock” and “those balls” with such detachment that i t seemed as if their genitals were entities separate from their bodies. This guy was somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, grunting and sighing when I bathed his cock with my tongue, and repeating “suck me” while my head bobbed in his lap. His penis was circumcised, stubby and thick, with a hard shaft and spongy head that barely reached the back of my throat. The squeaking of the seat springs began to get louder; I knew he was getting close. His hand was now inside my panties, cupping my ass, and his mon ologue had tapered off into heavy breathing punctuated by the occasional “suck”. As I briskly sucked him I could feel his thighs tensing and relaxing through his trousers, his belly heaving, his penis twitching in my mouth. Suddenly he groaned and tightene d his grip on my ass as the first spurt of semen shot from his cock. It was cloyingly sweet, something I hadn’t expected, but there was no way I could spit it out. I choked back his second and third spurt, swallowing hard. He relaxed, sinking back into the car seat and releasing his grip on my ass as he let out a deep breath. I released his softening penis from my mouth and sat up, brushing a strand of blonde hair from my face. Flipping down the visor, I checked my makeup in the vanity mirror. “Cigarette?” He flipped open the pack and offered me one. Exile 6 “Thanks.” I finished reapplying my lipstick and took a cigarette, letting him light it for me. “Can I give you a lift back downtown?” “No thanks. Just drop me at the corner.” * * * The hiss of steam heat and the smell of boiled cabbage greeted me as I walked into the foyer. I trudged down the flight of stairs that led to the basement and let myself into the apartment. The smell of gumbo simmering on the stove overpowered the neighbor’s cabbage. I shrugged off my coat and hung it up in the closet. Cami was stretched out on the living room couch, gazing at the television from under hooded eyes, half of an unlit joint in her hand. When she saw me come in she folded her legs, making room for me on the couch. “Delia’s sleeping,” she said, bringing the joint to her lips and fumbling with a pack of matches. “She working tonight?” I asked, fishing in my bag for my lighter. I handed it to her, tugging at her legs and pulling them on to my lap. She was wearing a short ye llow silk kimono that set off her milk chocolate complexion. “Two shows,” Cami replied, passing the joint. “You have dinner yet?” “Nothing but coffee and cum since breakfast.” “Dee made gumbo.” “I know. Smells good.” I passed the joint back to her and kic ked off my boots, exhaling a cloud of pot smoke that glowed blue in the light of the television. I settled Exile 7 back into the plush cushions of the old couch, absentmindedly caressing Cami’s smooth legs. She must have just shaved and moisturized; her skin felt as smooth as her silk kimono. “Mmmm...that feels good, Annie,” she whispered. I leaned over and laid my head on her hip as my caresses progressed up her thigh. As Cami began to gently stroke my hair, I parted her kimono and exposed her beautiful cock, hal f-hard and freshly shaved. I pursed my lips and lightly blew on it, making it stir and twitch between her shapely thighs. Cami had only been on hormones for a few months; her cock and balls hadn’t atrophied like Delia’s. And unlike Delia, who looked to be between thirty and fifty depending on her makeup, Cami was sixteen. Despite her delicate facial features and budding breasts, she still had a teenaged boy’s libido. Erect early, erect often. And erect she was. She softly sighed as I parted my lips and let her cock enter my mouth. Cami tasted clean, a trace of soap and skin cream on her shaft. Unlike the previous nine blowjobs I’d given that day, six in cars, two in the hallways of buildings, and one in an alley, this one was done slowly, carefully, lovingl y.