Sexual Storms

By Jay Thomas Willis

This is a novel about a young man coming of age in an isolated-rural area of East Texas. He grew up, went to college, to the military, to graduate school, and then moved to a South Suburb of Chicago. He grew up doing farm chores from sunup to sunset. There was little time for social or recreational pursuits. He was however able to finish his high school education and go on to college. Because his father retired when he was sixteen, he was lucky enough to receive a stipend from Social Security that helped him to attend college, as they say, the rest is history. He details several scenarios about his sexual experiences as they propel him into his destiny.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781669876137

Jay Thomas Willis

Jay Thomas Willis graduated from Stephen F. Austin State University with a B.S. degree in sociology. He also graduated from Texas Southern University with a M.Ed. in counseling, in addition to receiving a MSW in social work from the University of Houston. Willis has held numerous social work positions.

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Copyright © 2023 by Jay Thomas Willis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 05/24/2023

Xlibris

844-714-8691

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Also by Jay Thomas Willis

Nonfiction

A Penny for Your Thoughts: Insights, Perceptions, and Reflections on the African American Condition

Implications for Effective Psychotherapy with African Americans

Freeing the African-American’s Mind

God or Barbarian: The Myth of a Messiah Who Will Return to Liberate Us

Finding Your Own African-Centered Rhythm

When the Village Idiot Get Started

Nowhere to Run or Hide

Why Black Americans Behave as They Do: The Conditioning Process from Generation to Generation

God, or Balance in the Universe

Over the Celestial Wireless

Paranoid but not Stupid

Nothing but a Man

Things I Never Said

Word to the Wise

Born to Be Destroyed: How My Upbringing Almost Destroyed Me

Nobody but You and Me: God and Our Existence in the Universe

Got My Own Song to Sing: Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome in My Family

Random Thoughts on My Reality

A Word to My Son: A Celebration

Messed-Up Kid

Off-the-Top Treasures

Going with the Flow

Man’s Basic Purpose

God Told Me to Tell You

My Life and Times: Some Personal Essays

Life’s Lessons: Some Passing Thoughts

Why I Write: Notes Straight from the Hip

Just Jazzing: Thoughts from the Depth of My Soul

It’s Good to Be Alive: Focusing on the Positive Rather Than the Negative

Fiction

No Worldly Options Except Suicide or Schizophrenia: But God Has His Own Plans

You Can’t Get There from Here

Where the Pig Trail Meets the Dirt Road

The Devil in Angelica

As Soon as the Weather Breaks

The Cotton is High

Hard Luck

Educated Misunderstanding

Dream On: Persistent Themes in My Dreams

Longing for Home and Other Short Stories

Promises I Must Keep: Maintaining My Family’s Legacy

What Kind of Fool? and Other Short Stories

Poetry

Reflections on My Life: You’re Gonna Carry That Weight a Long Time

It’s a Good Day to Die: Some Personal Poetry About the Ups and Downs in My Life

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgment

Preface

1       Outclassed

2       Headed Out West

3       Road Buddies

4       The Little Cafe

5       The Mixed Blessing

6       Difficult to Satisfy

7       My Secret Love

8       The Bus Trip

9       Free Doesn’t Mean Without Cost

10     High-Minded

11     The Old Car

12     Playing a Different Game

13     Too Hot to Hold

14     A Meaningful Relationship

15     Classmates

16     A New Friend

17     Dream Girl

18     The Perfect Girl

19     Bridegroom

20     My Friend and I

About the Author

Sources

Dedication

To Dora, for whom most of my sexual energy was directed during my childhood and adolescence.

Acknowledgment

Thanks to all those who saw my humanity and didn’t take sexual advantage of a poor-ignorant country boy.

Preface

They say storms produce the wind that will take you into your destiny. The author has written about what he refers to as sexual storms that took him into his destiny.

The author started writing many years ago. Mostly writing about his favorite subject: women. He has taken several of his published short stories and converted them into the form of a novel. He describes in this novel some of his fictional-sexual encounters. He has taken what was once independent stories and tried to make these stories into a coherent novel.

These were all personal-fictional stories about physical- or psychological-sexual encounters before being converted. The author has tried to make all these stories consistent in time, place, space, and point of view—even though they were written at different times and for different purposes.

Most of the materials for this novel were taken from books of short stories that were previously published. However, the materials have been revised and re-edited.

Freud once said that sex and power were the two driving forces of mankind. There are those who said that Freud was a fraud, and don’t take any stock in anything Freud said. I understand they have quit using many of Freud’s ideas in psychiatry residency and schools of psychology. If his ideas are still being widely read, I stand corrected.

The author began with his first sexual encounter with sex and end with an experience with a fictionalized friend. These are all fictional accounts of his experiences. He began on a farm in rural East Texas and end in a South Suburb of Chicago. He goes from the farm, to college, to the military, to Houston, and to the South Suburbs of Chicago.

He lacked information about sex. His family did very little communicating with him about anything—especially sex. The author guessed that he was expected to survive on his own. As he grew up, he was expected to get this information at home, at school, in the community, but rarely broached the subject, either at home or with friends.

He didn’t associate with many people in the community. He spent most of his time being busy on the farm. During growing season, he had to plow a mule from sunup to sunset, and rarely got a break from his chores. He was isolated and under-socialized. He spent two weeks during several summers with his father on the Gulf Coast. This helped to enlighten him to some degree. This was the only break he got from his chores. Sex was mostly taken for granted, something it was unnecessary to discuss. Teachers also didn’t talk about it.

This novel is about fictional experiences. None of the scenarios happened as portrayed.

Check out this and other of the author’s books online, or willisjay.com, by Jay Thomas Willis.

1

Outclassed

My first sexual storm. I got up early that Saturday, did my chores and had some grits, fatback, scrambled eggs, and fresh-cow’s milk. We lived in a rural-farm area of East Texas in a town called Hallsville. We engaged in light farming for our livelihood. My brothers ran the farm, while my father had a public job on the Gulf Coast, three-hundred miles away. We didn’t have butane, telephone, or indoor plumbing. We didn’t get these things until many years later. There was only a red dirt road to our house and that had only recently been constructed. My fourteen-year-old sister and I were on our way to visit a neighbor. I was eight years old. It was 1955, and Brown vs. Board of Education of Topeka had just outlawed the separate but equal doctrine. Emmett Till was murdered in the same year for getting aggressive with a white woman. His murderers would go unpunished.

It was July and so hot you could fry an egg in the sand. The wind was blowing, and sand was swirling in the air. We walked down the hot-dusty-red-dirt road for about a mile and went down a hill to my neighbor’s house. After meeting two twins I started to play with them. I adapted readily to most situations at that age. Their names were Danita and Juanita. At that age I was also open to all relationships and willing to engage, I didn’t have any hang ups about interpersonal relations at that time, it took further learning or lack of it to become dysfunctional. There wasn’t much time for play; my time had to be spent doing whatever chores my mother would designate for me. We started to play, and we were roughhousing for a while. They didn’t seem to be enjoying it, just going along because of me. Before I knew it my penis became erect. I didn’t know what was going on. It was the first time I remember getting an erect penis. I kept trying to kiss them after my penis became erect.

My sister and their sister looked at me strangely. I don’t know if they noticed my penis sticking out against my pants. At that age I didn’t have any shame or guilt. They were one year younger than I; at least they were one year behind me in school. I was a year behind in school myself. This meant they were probably two years younger than I. I didn’t start school until I was seven. Their sister was about my sister’s age. I heard later that this sister had gotten pregnant and later got married. They came from a big family, not big as mine, but at least six or seven children. There were ten children in my family.

Their great-uncle was my mother’s uncle. Their great-uncle and his wife lived in the house. They never had any children. He was the twin’s father’s uncle. My mother seemed to have a paranoid fixation against their great-uncle. She thought he and his wife were trying to find a way to poison our wells, cut our fences, burn our barn, burn down our house, make our crops less productive, turn their livestock into our fields, or put a voodoo fix on our family. She thought he didn’t want our family on the land. The land had been handed down through our common ancestors. I finally figured out that it was mostly all in my mother’s mind. I couldn’t see any damage they were doing. The twin’s great-uncle and my mom’s mother were sisters and brothers. My mother wasn’t on speaking terms with the great-uncle and his wife. Of course, my mother rarely left the house. My mother continued this fixation until she died in 1989.

I remember not seeing the twins for a long time after that initial meeting. I did know that their father visited his uncle frequently, because his car was visible from the road. I guess I just never saw them when they came around. The girls never came to our house. The great-uncle lived about 100 feet off the road. Their brother did come by to visit us on a few occasions when he was in the military. He tried college but didn’t like it. He seemed to like the military. Of course, we had no way of knowing when they visited their great-uncle. We lived at the end of the road and didn’t mind anyone else’s affairs. The brother came by walking up that dirt road with his spit-shine shoes and clean-green uniform—brass buttons all over it. He looked impressive.

I don’t remember the circumstances under which I next saw the twins. But it was now 1963, and either I had seen them at their great-uncle’s house by accident, or I saw them at their house in Longview when I drove my father for a visit. My uncle owned a café right across from their house. It’s possible I could have seen them at the café. My father would visit the café to see his sister and bring my mother some of my uncle’s East Texas famous barbeque ribs.

I remembered there was the funeral of a relative of both our families. My father went by their home in Longview before the funeral. Their father convinced my father to ride with him, while Juanita rode with me. We left for the funeral. The sand had settled in the cab of the truck while riding down the dirt road to our house. The truck must have been in an accident before we bought it. It’s the only explanation for the sand coming up through the floor. I felt sorry for her. I’m sure she wasn’t used to traveling in such a low-class style. She was used to some of the finer things of life. Her father drove a 1963 Cadillac, Coupe De Ville and lived in an expensive-brick home. The ride was rough in a standard-shift truck, and the sand was swirling in the truck. I’m sure she thought I needed some lessons in driving. It was a justifiable conclusion. The sand was getting all over her black skirt, white blouse, her nicely done hair, and satin-smooth stockings. She was easy to look at. I kept noticing how smooth her long legs were in that short skirt. She also had a nice body and a pretty face. I almost lost my composure and didn’t know how to act.

After the funeral was over, she suggested we get a bite to eat, despite the transportation situation. We went to a local restaurant. We were sitting there, and I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t had much experience at making conversation; I had been isolated for a long time, had gotten no help for my speech impediment, and spent most of my time laboring on the farm. I decided to make some conversation just to clear the air.

I’ve always liked you Juanita but haven’t had much of an opportunity to get to know you.

At that time, I wasn’t smart enough to understand the fact that there was a class structure to which people adhered in most circles. I was socially invincible and didn’t realize I was outclassed. All I knew was that I was attracted to her, and she was a girl, and I was a boy.

We lived close to each other, but the distance between us seemed like many miles apart. My mother’s feelings about her great-uncle didn’t improve our chances for a relationship. I always thought it would be impossible for us to develop a relationship, in view of my mother’s feelings. When you are a child you believe what your parents say. I think I resented their father because of my mother’s paranoid fixations on their great-uncle, and I knew her father was close to her great-uncle. I hated to consider it, but the twins were probably considered more middle class, whereas we were more working class. This could have posed some obstacles to our having a relationship other than also being cousins. Also, again, she was used to some of the finer things of life. The difference between the way she was raised and the way I was raised would present insurmountable obstacles to a relationship between us. Her parents also knew my family’s history, which was not too favorable for someone looking for a person to establish a relationship with.

I like you also, Clarence. But we’re too closely related for a more personal type of relationship. On second thought, let me talk to my parents about it. I don’t do anything that serious without talking to my parents.

I thought as long as we didn’t bring children into the relationship it didn’t matter.

In a situation like that, no matter how hard you try, children are going to creep into the relationship. Most people will try to have children at some point in their marriage regardless of the circumstances.

You could be right.

I’ll write to you and let you know where to meet me for my answer. Give me your address.

We still had no telephone.

I gave it to her, and she wrote and told me to meet her on a Friday night in November at my uncle’s café.

We met on a cool Friday night in November at my uncle’s restaurant across from their house.

I can’t stay long, Clarence. My family is going out to dinner. I tried everything I could to convince them, but both my parents feel that we are too close cousins for more than a platonic relationship. I even told them we would not have children.

OK, baby. I understand.

I have to run, Juanita said, I’ll talk to you later.

She seemed relieved and in a hurry.

All I could do was drop my head. I figured it would be some disappointing news.

Before she went out the door, she said, We’ll be better off just being cousin-type friends. You really don’t know me well.

I graduated high school and went to college in 1966. She and her sister graduated in 1967. Their father told my mother they had gone to Long Star State University, and I went to Lincoln State University, increasing the distance between us. I thought I would never see Juanita again. But chance or happenstance brought us together again. I really thought such a relationship was out of the question but was willing to dig in the ashes once again to see if I could bank and stoke the embers.

I spent three years on Lincoln University campus without a car. Finally, my father broke down and purchased me the best car he could for the money he had in 1968. I was thinking about Juanita on one cool fall night in October and decided to give her a call at Lone Star State. I was lucky enough to get through to her in the dorm. I was lucky to get in touch with her because they had no phones in their rooms, but there was one in the hallway. One of her friends answered the phone and immediately found her and brought her to the phone.

Hello, this is Clarence from Hallsville.

Right away she knew who I was.

How are you doing stranger? How did you find me?

It’s not hard to find someone if you want to find them bad enough. Just kidding it was easy.

I was a junior and she was a sophomore.

What have you been doing for yourself?

Not too much, just hanging out.

Do you have a car?

Yes, I do. I recently purchased one.

"Barry White is putting on a concert in Houston on the weekend of the nineteenth. Why don’t you pick me up for the weekend and we can spend the weekend in Houston and attend the concert on Saturday night. Barry is my favorite artist. He sends chills through me. Pick me up on Friday at three o’clock. My last class is at one o’clock. I’ll be packed and ready. You know