The Cool Kids.
I met fellow swordsman, Vincent Vanowen, on a movie set where we played brothers who swapped girlfriends for a night.
The first time the two of us hung out we tripped on shrooms and walked around Hollywood Boulevard with his girlfriend/fellow performer, Mischa Bear, and their friend, Budd--the acting drug dealer of the group. Budd walked around with the contraband hidden in a Hello Kitty backpack.
Budd gave me his number with a wink, saying, “You know, just in case you want to party.”
While tripping, the Hollywood stars came alive. They transformed into a scroll of credits to the greatest movie of all time, my movie. I was the star, front and center. I felt invincible, and Vincent--my Sherpa--appeared to me as a God.
Weeks later, Vincent introduced me to his poly-amorous and free-spirited Burner friend Fiona Day. Through Fiona I met her artist boyfriend, Oz. Fiona and Oz were living together in a small one-bedroom house in the depths of the Valley in a long forgotten about town called Winnetka.
One night, Fiona and Oz invited me over for dinner. At the table we discussed psychedelics. Oz and Fiona reminisced about the crazy experiences they had while tripping on acid. I admitted I never tried acid before. Fiona said she had a few tabs left over from the previous weekend. She suggested tonight should be the night to drop them.
I am cool, I thought. If they can do it so can I. Fuck it.
The three of us were sitting on the couch when the drug was in full effect. My body began to feel light. My brain surged, my eyes sharpened, and I couldn’t stop smiling. Fiona and Oz began flirting and soon they were making out. She began stroking him as he fingered her. I watched the action with growing anticipation.
Oz whispered in Fiona’s ear, “Give him some attention.”
Fiona crawled over toward me and started playing with my cock through my jeans, making out with me while Oz ate her out from behind. Soon Oz was fucking Fiona doggystyle as she was blowing me. Fiona turned around and pounced atop Oz. She road him in cowgirl.
He asked, “Can you fit two?”
Fiona pulled me towards her and told me to stick my cock in her alongside Oz’s. I entered with almost no resistance. She could fit the two of us rather comfortably. I was enthralled by this seemingly impossible feat. Before I knew it both Oz and I were simultaneously fucking Fiona.
My first private threesome ever and here I was doing double Vaginal penetration on this girl while tripping on acid. This was unprecedented.
Shortly thereafter, Oz began to lose wood for some reason. Frustrated, he pushed Fiona and me away and walked into the bathroom. As quickly as it had started, the threesome disbanded.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked.
“No, you’re fine,” she reassured. “It was my idea for him to take the lead. He is still getting used to threesomes. I have to go talk to him.” Fiona walked away and left me alone on the couch.
My body was tingling; I still felt the drug coursing through my veins. Anxiously awaiting the couple’s return, I sat on the couch and stroked myself as I listened to the faint sounds of their voices wafting from the confines of the bathroom. I don’t know what they were arguing about, but soon their conversation escalated and the volume of their voices intensified.
I sprawled across the couch and stared at the adjacent wall toward a hanging portrait of a tranquil deserted island. With two hands, I firmly grasped my third leg and tugged with intent. I closed my eyes and drowned out the sounds of reality with the symphony of my mind. I transported myself to the island. I imagined the island to be populated by beautiful Nubian princesses and myself. I was king and the women worshipped me properly; a dozen soft hands and wet lips caressed every square inch of my body. The women poured red wine on my cock and lapped it all up, savoring every drop when the bathroom door suddenly burst open and Fiona stormed out and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her, breaking me from my trance.
As my mind returned to this planet, Oz walked into the living room and literally caught me with my pants down. We laughed. I got dressed and he joined me on the couch.
“You guys okay?” I asked.
“She said I embarrassed her.” Oz confided.
“I guess she just really wanted to fuck.” I said.
“Yeah, I’m just too high for sex right now. These days...I don’t know, man, times have been weird since I got back from Afghanistan."
“What the hell were you doing there?”
“I was a soldier. Served for five years.” He turned and pointed to the back of his rib cage. “Check it out. I was shot.”
“No shit?” I said as I reached out my finger to trace the circular wound.
Oz continued, “I was walking through a poppy field, and thwack! It felt like a bee-sting. Next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. Bullet missed my heart by an inch.”
“You were so lucky,” I said as I pressed my palm flat against his back, feeling the complex intricacies of his exercised shoulder.
“I was discharged, flew to Cali, and now I’m just trying to focus on my art.”
His skin grew warm in my hand. I had a sudden urge to lean forward and kiss his back, but I suppressed it. Oz turned to me and our eyes locked in a lingering stare. He began to study my face.
“Your features are so strong,” He said. “So masculine. Would you mind if I painted you?”
“I’d like that.”
Oz put on an album from the band Polica and poured himself a glass of red wine. He sat Indian style on the floor and placed a blank canvas in his lap. While admiring me, he painted a portrait of the face of LSD as I lay on the couch. I remember thinking about my future, the places I’d go, and the people I’d meet. I wondered who Logan Pierce was and what would eventually become of him on this journey. In that moment, I was content; I had no worries. I then closed my eyes and let the sounds and vibrations of the music carry me away on my trip.