Sally And The Dead Concert

Best Dead concert I ever saw was in 1978 in an old movie theater in downtown Atlanta.

My good college buddy Joe had grown up in San Francisco, had seen them umpteen times, and was a true Dead Head with every recording, legit and bootleg, ever made. He had tickets for both of the consecutive nights the Dead would be in Atlanta.

He was so blown away by the show the first night that HE GAVE ME HIS TICKET TO THE SHOW the next night. An unbelievably generous act, as I had not been able to stand in line to get a ticket when they went on sale due to an exam that day, in which the shows sold out in a few hours.

Well, anyway, as though the ticket was not great by itself, it was seated with some other friends, all of whom were maximum partiers in the Dead tradition. Not only did we all have excellent herb and plenty of it, but I managed to score a half sheet of some extra strong and clean 4-way blotter, which I of course distributed to my friends.

There were 8 of us together, five other dudes, one of them's girlfriend, and sitting next to me, Sally, a to-die-for tall, buxom Nordic-looking blonde, who lived in the dorm next to mine, that I'd been trying to get the attention of to no avail for months.

I ate no less than 3 hits (3 4-way hits = 12) and was tripping mightily to the 5-hour-long concert. The Rococo style of the old theater featured elaborate woodwork, complex wall paper, and a swirling pattern carpet, all of which was going totally ape-shit due to the little squares of paper I'd placed on my tongue.

Sally was tripping on the two hits I'd given her, and we were touching and hanging onto each other throughout the show. Believe me, I was in no state to be hitting on her or any woman, but the show coupled with the acid bonded us. In fact, pressed against each other and having similarly faded jeans on, it appeared to our hallucinating minds that we were joined at the hip.

We smoked weed constantly throughout the long concert, and during a long drum solo, Sally and I meandered down into the lobby, wading though what looked like foot-deep multi-colored syrup as the faces of those around us morphed from childlike to adult to old age and back again. She and I continued to melt inextricably one into the other. Beautiful to begin with, Sally looked at that point like a radiant angel.

I don't even remember how we got all the way back to campus, but I will never forget walking with her up the looked-like-melting-stacks-of-sticks-of-butter stairs to her dorm, she opening the bending-like-rubber door, and silently removing all her clothes as I did likewise, our unblinking eyes glued to the other's.

Sally put on the Allman Brothers' Eat A Peach, lit a few candles, and we fell naked into a deep French kiss on her bed. With fuzzy fringe trim, the bedspread looked exactly like thick white icing on a giant rectangular birthday cake that enveloped us in a cozy sweet treat.

But the really sweet treat was Sally, who kissed her way down my neck, chest, and stomach to gobble down my throbbing rod as her big meaty breasts bounced against my thighs. Sucking and slurping loudly, she stared into my eyes with her enormous green ones, demonstrating A+ fellatio mastery.

I simply let her take the lead, and after she twisted around without ever letting my cock slip from her mouth into a 69, I hungrily lapped her big, lippy pussy--one of the few I've experienced that actually squirts juice outs in spurts, literally bathing me in female emollients.

She eventually climbed on top and mounted me, fucking me facing away, giving me a fine view of her firm muscular butt, facing forward so that I could see her lovely face and big bouncing boobs, and even sideways, which afforded me a view of the same from a different angle. Though we never spoke a word, our moans and groans and slurping and slapping were quite audible even over the Allman Brothers' drum solo.

She had cum several times, both from my eating her and she fucking me, but she assumed a determined expression that telegraphed "I'm gonna squeeze the cum outa your dick now," leaned forward to place her massive mammaries in my face, and began thrusting very fast with her hips. Well, though this was one of the best fucks of my life, I simply was not going to cum. Blame it on the blotter or her extraordinarily wet pussy or whatever, but it just wasn't going to happen.

After 20 minutes of this action and we both wet with perspiration, she eased back down and, with an even more determined expression, gulped my meat down again, expertly using her tongue and lips and throat muscles as she tickled and fondled my sloppy wet balls with her fingertips.

She could tell she was driving me to Ejaculation City, but she increased her speed and vigor ever so gradually. Finally, I exploded and screamed out, as she swallowed and bobbed in full-length strokes over and over and over, her giant green eyes locked onto mine the whole while.

Still tripping hard, the walls and ceiling of her small dorm suddenly receded half a football field away, and I swore I felt a cool breeze. She licked the last drop of cum from me, smiled, and lit up a cigarette as I twisted up a fat doob. Naked in the middle of the pussy-juice- and perspiration-soaked bed/birthday cake, we drank a six-pack of Grolsh and smoked the ganja as we talked quietly about the fantastic Dead concert and all of our hallucinatory evening's experiences.

That was my only sexual encounter with Sally, but I will never forget it and cherish that evening forever.