Parts of the story refers to memories, related by the main character, when they were all underage but there is no sex when they were underage. They are all over 18 in this story. The characters, location etc are completely fictitious.
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If you know anything about California, especially Southern California, you know that Blythe, California is one of the hottest places in North America, second only to Needles and Death Valley.
Me and my two girlfriends grew up in this hot hellhole and since we were pretty much born here, this was home. My name is Chrissie. With my two other girlfriends, Marcie and Cindy, we were always together hanging out, getting in trouble, comparing notes about guys, the usual stuff.
Marcie was fast-talking and fearless; she never missed a thing. She was able to talk herself into, or out of, almost anything. Marcie had shortish brown hair and big pretty brown eyes. She was thin and hyper, no ass to speak of but she had a nice pair of boobs.
Cindy was almost the opposite. She was little on the chubby side with small breasts; poor thing. She had blond hair but did have a cute face with big full lips. Along with those lips came the tendency to say what ever came into her head, most of the time without thinking about it first.
Marcie and Cindy always called me the "pretty one". I was quiet, with light brown hair and big green eyes, and I have to admit, with bigger boobs than Marcie and Cindy put together.
About 3 or 4 years ago, I think Marcie was 14, she befriended this guy down the street from her house. Marcie would just wander the neighborhood being her typical restless self, just looking for something to do, and one day, a couple of blocks from her house, she hears music. It sounds like "live" music, not the radio or a CD. It's just a single guitar.
Marcie follows the sound to a non-de-script house and in Marcie's fearless manner, just walks in.
There sitting on a stool, is a guy just playing guitar. Blues guitar, I guess (he would later call it "R&B" or just "Blues").
Marcie noticed that he didn't seem to notice her at first. Then he stopped playing and said: "Hello? Someone there?"
Marcie then realized he was blind.
"Hi" Marcie said, "I just heard the cool guitar from outside and followed the sound. Sorry. I didn't mean to barge in on you"
"That's OK" he said.
"You play guitar really good" Marcie said.
"Well" he declared.
"Huh?" Marcie was confused.
"You play guitar really 'WELL'" he corrected her.
"Oh. Got it. Yeah. You play guitar really well" Marcie repeated, almost like she was in class.
"Thank you. Thank you very much..." he said, with an obvious Elvis twang. Marcie laughed.
"My name is Marcie" Marcie declared.
"Nice to meet you Marcie. My name is Steve".
Steve put his hand out to shake, his eyes and head looking in a different direction from where his hand was.
Marcie walked around to his hand and politely shook it.
Steve went back to playing. After about 5 minutes, Marcie, always hyper and restless, in her usual way, said: "Can I bum a cigarette?"
"How old are you?" Steve asked.
"Ummm, I'm going to be 15 in another two months" said Marcie defensively.
"Hell, no you can't bum a cigarette!" "Why aren't you in school?"
"It's summer!" Marcie said, with a tone of "DUH!"
"Well I'm kinda busy right now. Maybe you should just run along" Steve grumbled.
"OK" Marcie said, a little let down.
"Can I come back sometime and bring my girlfriends so we can listen to you play?" Marcie asked.
"Sure, sure... We'll see you later" Steve said, with a polite but obvious tone that said "leave".
Marcie met us later and we talked about the usual stuff and she told us all about the blind guitar player down her street.
During the rest of that summer and a few more summers after that, we would drop in on Steve once or twice a week and drive him crazy.
Marcie kept trying to bum cigarettes. He finally let her have one after she turned 16. Then she started asking him to let us have a beer.
"OK. That's it. Out. See you later. No beer" and pointed (sort of) toward the door.
We left, but we'd come back in a few days and he'd be cool, like it never happened.
We just liked hanging out at Steve's as it was a place to go. In Blythe, there was NO place to go. He was pretty cool, just played his guitar and let us hang around as long we didn't get him too irritated. He also had A/C!
When it was really hot (which was most of the time), Steve would just wear an old tattered pair of gym shorts. The gym shorts looked 20 years old, with holes and tears and so thin there wasn't much holding 'em together.
We would hang out and listen to him play, and with him wearing these old shorts, I could pretty easily tell that he had a huge dick.
One day, the three of us were hanging around at the park talking about stuff when Cindy, as usual, just blurted out, "Have you guys noticed that Steve has a huge dick?"
Marcie, always the cool one, "Yeah, Cindy" looking at me for confirmation, "It's a little hard to miss."
One time he was playing on his guitar stool and we could all clearly see the full length of his dick through his shorts and after he drank a few beers, he was really getting into his guitar playing, almost all of his dick was just hanging out. The three of us just looked at each other in amazement. He must have felt a draft or something because he quickly pulled his shorts around to cover himself up but it was a little bit of a struggle as he had a LOT to cover up. We looked at each other and silently giggled.
Marcie started calling him "Blind Melon" as a joke from the old Cheech and Chong "Blind Melon Chitlin" about the black, blind, blues guitar player with the huge dick.
Marcie would call him "Blind Melon" and he would just go along with it, until once he finally asked:
"What's with the 'Blind Melon'?"
Marcie just said, "You know the old joke stereotype. The black, blind, blues guitar player, except you're not black. It's just a silly nickname."
We found out during our many annoying visits that he had written a couple of hit songs years ago and so didn't really need to work since he lived off the royalties. He also got into a terrible car wreck which blinded him about 7 years ago. He also gets a check every month from an insurance company because of the wreck and being blinded.
One day after drinking a few beers, he confessed to us that the wreck and becoming blind took all his musical inspiration. He said he just didn't have the old "mojo" as he called it, for songwriting. He also largely stopped dating. He didn't really want to go through the trials and hassles of finding a woman who was also blind, but he knew that dating a sighted woman brought it's own set of challenges so he basically gave up.
The following summer, it was ANOTHER hot day in Blythe (who could have guessed?), and the power was out all over town from the heat wave. Even for Blythe, this was HOT. Marcie suggested we go hang out at Steve's since there was nothing else to do. It was at least 110 degrees and it was only early afternoon.
We walked into Steve's place and, as usual he was sitting on his stool, playing his guitar. It was really warm inside but there was a breeze coming from somewhere.
"How do you have fans going and the TV on?" Cindy asked.
"Got a little Honda generator out back. I use it for times like now." Steve said.
"My God. It's got to be over 100 in here!" Marcie said.
"That's why there's three fans going and my handy-dandy 'Blind Melon' swamp cooler." joked Steve, at his own expense, said and went back to playing.