The Gift by Lou Reed, John Cale, Sterling Morrison, and Maureen Tucker (rev) White Shadow
The Gift
Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now mid-August, which meant that he had been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone calls. True, when school had ended and she'd returned to Wisconsin, and he to Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity, she would date occasionally, but only as amusement. But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning underneath his quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes. As he pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion. It was more than the human mind could bear.
Visions of Marsha's faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was they wouldn't really understand how she really was. He, Waldo, alone, understood this. He had intuitively grasped every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and he wasn't there.
The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers Parade was scheduled to appear. He had just finished mowing and edging the Edelson's lawn for a dollar fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from Marsha. There was nothing more than a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.
It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mail. Then it struck him, he didn't have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion, true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple! He would ship himself parcel post special delivery! The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a medium sized box, just right for a person of his build. He judged that with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes, some water, of course, midnight snacks and it would probably be as good as going tourist.
By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was packed and the post office had agreed to pick him up at three o'clock. He'd marked the package "Fragile", and as he sat curled up inside, resting the foam rubber cushioning he'd thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and happiness on Marsha's face as she opened the door, saw the package, tipped the deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She would kiss him, then, maybe they could see a movie. If he'd only thought of this before! Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne up. He landed with a thud in a truck and then he was off.
* * *
Marsha had another batch of strawberry daiquiris mixing in her blender. She and Bill had been chatting and drinking for an hour or so. The booze was just starting to really hit her. She found herself occasionally slurring her words. It was a warm August evening and the frozen drinks were particularly refreshing.
Marsha was wearing beige cotton shorts and T-shirt with no bra as she sat next to Bill on her couch. Sipping on her fresh drink, Marsha felt a welcome shiver of cold and noticed her nipples were becoming erect. Bill noticed the change and his right hand "accidentally" brushed across one of her nipples. Then he very lightly played with her nipple using one finger, making the nipple even harder.
Marsha had been feeling a delicious wetness down in her panties. It was only natural, considering how long it had been since she had been with a man. Here she was, sitting close to a muscular, good-looking young man. Feeling him touch her nipple through the thin cotton material covering her breast was stimulating her and increased the tingling sensation between her legs.
Marsha was surprised when she heard a soft groan and realized the sound had come from herself. Marsha's breasts had always been very sensitive. A few men had discovered that touching her breasts was the quickest way to get her really hot. Waldo never seemed to catch on to that, but then he was kind of a washout when it came to sex.
Marsha was embarrassed by her wetness. She felt it soaking through the material of her shorts. She was certain Bill could see she had a wet spot between her legs. Marsha worried that he could see how wet she was getting. God, was she getting turned on by that man! Marsha could feel the blood rush to her face as she blushed hotly at the thought.
Before she understood what was happening, Bill had moved his right hand under Marsha's T-shirt and rested it gently on her left breast. Marsha opened her mouth to protest but as she did, Bill kissed her on her open mouth.
Instead of pulling Bill's hand away, Marsha was shocked to find herself move her hand down to his erect cock and rub it through the material of his jeans. He had a large slightly curved cock and it very hard as it throbbed in her hand.
Bill, meanwhile, was rolling her left nip between his fingertips as they continued to kiss. Marsha panicked, knowing she had to stop before they went too far. She tried to stand but her knees buckled as a result of the booze and her arousal. She fell backwards into Bill's lap while she started laughing out loud at her own helplessness.
Bill picked her up and carried her into her bedroom. God was this man gorgeous... and so strong! He set her down on the bed and lay down next to her, kissing her passionately as he ran his hands from her heaving breasts down to her wet wet crotch. Marsha closed her eyes as she felt his hands begin to caress the silky softness of her inner thighs. She raised her hips to help him pull off her shorts and toss them across the room.
Marsha was embarrassed at the gooey mess inside her panties as Bill put his hand inside them to touch her cunt, but it felt so good that she no longer cared. She thought she would let him do this for a few minutes more and then she would make him stop. Bill pulled the crotch of her panties aside and probed with his fingers the tight opening of her cunt. As Marsha's pussy got hotter and even wetter Bill lightly teased her clit. Finally Marsha cried out, "Billy, we have to stop! Please, I'm getting so hot, we shouldn't be doing this!"
He responded by moving his mouth down her stomach, down between her legs. He began to mouth the wet material of her panties over her clit. "Good Lord!" Marsha thought, "He is going to eat my pussy!" This was something she had always wondered about, but no one had ever done it to her.
When Bill began to pull off her panties, Marsha finally stopped him. She said, "We are getting carried away. We can't do this."
Bill replied, "I understand completely. We won't do anything you don't want to do. I'll stop whenever you tell me to."
With that assurance Marsha lifted her hips to let Bill pull her panties off and she pulled off her T-shirt and lay on her back, naked, with her legs spread apart. She closed her eyes dreamily as she felt the exquisite sensation of Bill's mouth on her opening.
Bill began by slowly kissing the area around her swollen red labia before he began to lick her oozing cunt lips and tingling clit. While he did this Bill massaged her breasts with both hands, occasionally gently pinching her erect nipples. Marsha had often fantasized about a man eating her, but this was even better than her fantasies.
Bill licked Marsha's cunt, gradually picking up the pace as she involuntarily thrust her hips upwards. Before long, Marsha began to feel an orgasm build within her. She desperately looked forward to the release that had been building for so very long. Marsha told herself she would stop after enjoying an orgasm as she massaged Bill's muscular shoulders.
Marsha needed the release and knew she was right on the verge of it. She tensed the muscles in her body to help push herself over the edge and was moaning very loudly. She was disappointed and moaned out "More, more!" as Bill abruptly stopped. Marsha waited for him to finish her and was so wrapped up in the moment she didn't notice Bill remove his shirt and pants and move up between her legs.
When his lips touched hers Marsha opened her eyes to see Bill above her and looked down to see him guiding his magnificent cock in between her aching cunt lips. She gasped at the size of it as he began to push the engorged red head of it into her. "Bill no, we can't!" she moaned.
"I promise I'll pull out," Bill whispered in her ear, "You... omigod! Yes... yes... you feel... so gooood!" as he thrust his hard cock deeply into Marsha over and over again.
Marsha was helpless. He wasn't going to stop and she didn't want him to stop. She was right on the verge of orgasm as Bill stretched her hot cunt with his thick cock. Her body betrayed her as her hips pushed rhythmically in synch with his long thrusts, overcome by the sensations of her building orgasm. She could no longer speak. All Marsha could do was moan and grunt and push back against his thrusts as he fucked her towards the climax she so desperately needed.
He thrust in and out, sinking deeper into her pussy with every push until his thick hard shaft was buried completely in her, his pubic bone grinding against her clit. Marsha screamed out, "Oh! Oh! OH!" as she felt the ecstatic sensations of an orgasm wash over her. Marsha Bronson exploded in a powerful orgasm and then everything went dark for her as she passed out as wave upon wave of overwhelming pleasure coursed through her body.
She slowly recovered her senses a few moments later and felt the wonderful sensations of his cock sliding in and out of her wet hole. Her cunt was oozing out the hot creamy juices she had been producing. Marsha was on a plateau, again at the verge of an orgasm as she ran her hands over the rippling muscles of this young man who was riding her fast and hard. She was in love with his cock. She moaned a soft low moan as Bill slammed his cock into her, making her hips buck involuntarily with the pure pleasure he was giving her. It was nothing short of fantastic for her as she tensed, feeling her second climax building up quickly. She was going to come again! Just as she moved past the point of no return to the delicious place where there was nothing she could do to stop her climax, she heard Bill let out a loud groan as he started his orgasm.
Then she felt it. His powerful body lurched and Marsha could feel his cock throbbing, spurting jet after jet of hot jism into her. Bill was coming inside of her! She screamed out "No! No!" but her hips ground spasmodically against his quivering body as wave after wave of an extremely intense orgasm swept over her. All she could think of was how wonderful this all felt and she grabbed Bill's hard muscular buttocks to try and pull him deeper into her. She wanted all of him deep inside her.
Bill slacked off for a while, but a few minutes later he was rock hard again and once again fucking Marsha with long powerful thrusts pushing her to another orgasm...
* * *
Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about it though. After it was over he'd said that he still respected her and, after all, it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn't love her, he did feel an affection for her. And, after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what Billy could teach Waldo! ...But that seemed like years ago.
Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend walked in through the porch screen door and into the kitchen. "Oh, it's absolutely maudlin outside!"
"Ach, I know what you mean, I feel all icky!" Marsha tightened her cotton robe with the silk outer edge.
Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on the kitchen table, licked her fingers and made a face. "I'm supposed to take these salt pills," but she wrinkled her nose, "They make me feel like throwing up."
Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she'd seen on television. "God, don't even talk about that." She got up from the table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue vitamins. "Want one? Supposed to be better than steak." ...and attempted to touch her knees. "I don't think I'll ever touch a daiquiri again." She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the table that supported the telephone. "Maybe Bill will call," she said to Sheila's glance.
Sheila nibbled on a cuticle. "After last night, I thought maybe you'd be through with him."
"I know what you mean, my God, he was like an octopus, hands all over the place." She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. "The thing is after a while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all he didn't really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him, you know what I mean?" She started to scratch.
Sheila was giggling with her hand over her mouth. "I'll tell you, I feel the same way, and even after a while," here she bent forward in a whisper, "wanted to," and now she was laughing very loudly.
It was at this point that Mr. Jameison of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang the doorbell of the large colored stucco frame house. When Marsha Bronson opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen-cent tip that Marsha had gotten out of her mother's small beige pocket book in the den. "What do you think it is?" Sheila asked
Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back. She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living room: "I don't know."
Inside the package Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down the center of the carton. "Why don't you look at the return address and see who it is from?" Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.
Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. "It's from Waldo."
"That schmuck!" said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation. "You might as well open it," said Sheila.
Both of them tried to flip the stapled flap. "Ah," said Marsha groaning, "he must have nailed it shut." They tugged at the flap again. "My God, you need a power drill to get this thing opened." They pulled again. "You can't get a grip!"
They both stood still, breathing heavily. "Why don't you get the scissors?" said Sheila.
Marsha ran into the kitchen, but all she could find was a little sewing scissors. Then she remembered that her father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs and when she came back, she had a large metal cutter in her hand. "This is the best I could find." She was out of breath. "Here, you do it. I'm gonna die." She sank into a large fluffy couch and exhaled noisily.
Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the end of the cardboard, but the blade was too big and there was not enough room. "Goddamn this thing!" she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling, "I got an idea."
"What?" said Marsha.
"Just watch," said Sheila touching her finger to her head.
Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could hardly breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. It would be soon.
Sheila stood upright and walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her knees, grasped the cutter by both hands, took a deep breath and plunged the long blade through the middle of the package, through the middle of the masking tape, through the card board, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of Waldo Jeffers' head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red to pulsate gently in the morning sun...