The Gentle Degenerates (The Vassi Collection)

by Marco Vassi

  Kathy disengaged herself and let Regina lie there a long time, just watching her, and then she looked up at me. Some obscure warning bell went off in an untended corner of my mind, and my instinct was to continue sitting just where I was, but the sight of Regina stretched out like that, waiting, open, languorous, unnerved me. I scooted down and sat myself between her legs. Her cunt was copiously wet and little tremors made the insides of her thighs dance. My cock got hard at once, and completely silenced the clanging in my head. I leaned forward and lowered myself gently onto the waiting body.

  The minute I entered her I knew it was wrong. It felt good to me, but she tensed immediately. All of a sudden my cock felt like a crude instrument, an ugly insensitive tool which had no business thrashing around such a fragile and almost other-worldly thing as a cunt. All the tales and horror stories concerning lesbians ran through my head: “Once a woman has had another woman, she doesn’t want a man,” and “Once a woman has had a lesbian’s tongue, she laughs at cocks,” and so on. I had, in my liberalism, dismissed all that as rubbish, and stoutly maintained that there was room enough in this universe for tongues and cocks, for lesbians and bisexuals. But now all my suppressed doubt hit at once, and I felt my cock beginning to go limp.

  To my surprise, as soon as it was half-hard, Regina began to respond. Her cunt wrapped itself around the soft prick and started massaging it, comforting it, caressing it. It was all happening too fast and too heavy for me to come up with any formulations at the moment. It was a scrumptious feeling and I let my full weight fall on her. She spread her legs and brought up her knees so that I fell comfortably into the cradle she made, and then she brought her hands to my face and began stroking me gently. I felt as though I were an infant, and part of me rebelled at this particular role, while the more sensible part told me to shut up and enjoy what was happening, whatever it was.

  Regina moved with the caution of a mother holding a newborn infant. Her cunt was a thing of infinite subtlety. Its warmth and softness set me dreaming, and as I let myself slide into a formless reverie, my cock began to stiffen. But this time there was no me behind its action. It just engorged itself on blood and sensation, and filled up to its full hard stance. Yet, even in its hardness, there was an unusual quality of softness. I could feel the tip, and sensed the serrated edges of it kissing the tender secret inner parts of her pussy. I moved not at all, but let her do all the guiding.

  Shortly my ears began to get heat flashes, and my face tingled, I could feel a trembling beginning in my legs and the breath came short and fast. Something was taking over my body and I let it happen. My shoulders shook and then my spine began to roll. Finally, my pelvis started to twitch back and forth very rapidly and in a few seconds my entire body was a crescendo of heat and movement. A long high cry came from my lips and Regina said, in a melting voice, over and over again, “oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” as the sperm rocketed up my cock and splashed into her cunt in hot streaming jets, one after the other, coming out of the opening in rhythm to the convulsive spasms of my body. I came into her, and she received me wetly and darlingly.

  I collapsed in her arms and we lay there a long while, gently cradling one another. And then, as though from another planet, I felt a hand tapping me on the shoulder. Oh my God, it was Kathy! I had forgotten all about her. She flashed me an approving smile and then indicated, with a jerk of her thumb, that she wanted me to get off. Although I thought I should have been resentful, actually I wasn’t. More puzzled than anything else.

  I pulled back and rolled off to one side. Regina opened her eyes and looked up dazedly. She looked as though she had not the slightest idea of who or what anything or anyone was at the moment. But before she could stir, Kathy was down on her. She went with the rapidity and grace of a boa snaring a lamb. I watched as her still smiling lips, curved like a scimitar, cut into the pulsing, slippery lips of Regina’s cunt. And then her mouth covered the hole, and I lost sight of all the details.

  At first Regina stiffened, and her hands come down to the top of Kathy’s head, as they have so often since come down on mine at such a moment. It was an indication that she would let herself be eaten, but she wanted to keep control on the parameters of the experience. Kathy merely shook her head from side to side and brushed the hands off. She did it with such finality and sense of authority that Regina whimpered and brought her hands up to her chest, where, tentatively, and then with greater purpose, she began to flick her nipples and message her own breasts.

  Kathy dropped her head down and Regina parted her legs even more, bringing her cunt up. Kathy’s tongue slithered out and plunged into the cunt hole. Regina shuddered and I leaned forward, mesmerized by the action. Kathy work quickly and directly, forcing her face deeper, getting Regina’s cunt to spread wider, until, all at once, Regina brought her legs up and caught them behind the knees with her hands to hold them high and spread. Her ass came into sight and Kathy’s right hand moved between the cheeks. I couldn’t see what her fingers were doing, since they were hidden by her face, but now Regina began to moan, deep chesty sobs that were ragged at the edges and described a feeling that she had probably never experienced before. It was the sound of a woman who was about to come. Kathy dug in more deeply and tried to catch the tide of passion as it reached its peak, but her move was too sudden and Regina’s moans suddenly changed to gasps, a sort of retching sound such as a baby might make if it were choking on its milk. Her legs tightened and her hands came down again to push at Kathy’s head. Part of me was dismayed but part of me smiled. If a woman couldn’t get her to come, I didn’t have to feel so bad.

  But that was only round one. With infinite patience Kathy began again. This time she moved higher and her mouth opened and came back, only to be lowered over Regina’s upper cunt, and I saw her curved tongue tip down to flick right at the tip of Regina’s clitoris. This time the response was a frantic machine-gun burst of expelled breath. Kathy pulled back and came down again, this time licking from the bottom of the slit, right above the asshole, all the way up between the dripping lips, right up to the clitoris and into her pubic hair. She did this countless times, lapping at the cunt with great broad strokes, each time letting her tongue sink deeper into the crack as she licked her way up. Finally, Regina was again lying back, her legs in the air, letting her cunt fall out, while Kathy ravaged it at will. This time nipping at it with her teeth, and growling into the hole, and teasing the tiny clitoris with the tip of her tongue. Regina shuddered and moaned, and once again stopped the flow, this time by clamping her legs together. “It’s too much,” she said. “Not enough!” I said in my head, echoing Ivan the Terrible.

  Kathy took a deep breath and forcibly brought Regina’s legs apart. She had a determined gleam in her eye. Up to now it had been sport and play; but I could see the pride of the professional being challenged. I recognized it easily. Many a time I had fucked with my awareness on the technical specifics of the act as opposed to the so-called human relationship. Kathy leaned forward and into the space between Regina’s thighs. Now she brought her right hand up and inserted three fingers into Regina’s sticky twat. Her hand went in up to the knuckles and then her mouth came down to cover the upper lips. And now a long struggle and ride ensued.

  Regina came again and again to the very peak of orgasm, but Kathy was hipper to her rhythms this time, and before Regina had a chance to cut off the flow, Kathy pulled back a short distance, leaving her hanging there. Then Kathy remained perfectly still and waited for her to begin the next wave of movement. And Regina would, by relaxing her legs and belly, and letting her cunt sink even more deeply onto Kathy’s fingers. I looked away from the confrontation between mouth and cunt and saw that Kathy’s ass was high in the air and moving in short jerks up and down. My erection returned and began to throb. I wasn’t sure if the move was politic or not, but I moved behind Kathy, only to see her cunt gaping full wide and dribbling like a child eating gruel. She was incredibly hot, and without he
sitation, I came up close and slid my cock into the hole. She quivered and let out a low moan into Regina’s cunt, while Regina in turn responded to that by pushing her pelvis up, thrusting her cunt further onto Kathy’s fingers. The heat of the box, and the sight of the two women making it together with such fullness and beauty inflamed me to a point past control. I was in her for no more than a minute before I felt myself coming. I let out a cry and Regina opened her eyes, and as I shot my load into Kathy’s waiting cunt, Regina and I looked deep into one another’s eyes and passed messages that defied all conscious understanding.

  I fell back and sat down. With the added impetus, Kathy really went at it. She was now all sinuosity and style. The game was out in the open. Regina would put up wall after wall of defense, challenging her lover to scale the gate and find her secret garden. Kathy was letting her know that the secret garden would be overgrown with weeds before long unless Regina was ready to at least take the barbed wire off the walls. And now Regina lay there, unable to pretend that I wasn’t there, having Kathy consciously work at her cunt to make her come. She grew frantic, and her very nervousness provided the key. For now the energy began to course through her legs. She opened and clenched her hands, making and unmaking fists. She begged for mercy in a dozen silent ways.

  But the mouth was ruthless. Kathy had now grown very expert in the ways of Regina’s cunt. The retreats were fewer and lasted less time. Regina squirmed and her ass moved back and forth along the damp sheet under her. Kathy’s mouth dripped saliva and cunt juice and sperm. Her hair was wild and plastered down her shoulders and on Regina’s thighs. Regina’s breasts jiggled from side to side as her nipples grew hard and gnarled. Her legs spread apart involuntarily, and her cries became deeper and fuller.

  Finally she began a long slow ride to climax. Her belly went full and relaxed. Her arms lay out at her sides. She let herself be open, be vulnerable. The last gremlin in her cunt tried one last effort to break the rhythm, but Kathy moved in and with an expert twist of her fingers and luscious gobbling with her lips, took Regina right to the very edge, and then sweeping her up in her arms, dove over the precipice with her. And Regina let out a long loud cry that must have been heard down the entire block, a cry of relief and revelation, a beautiful joyous painful cry that saturated the room with sound and filled my heart with awe. And simultaneously Kathy sobbed and sobbed, sucking and sucking at the now throbbing, gushing cunt that pumped into her mouth the juice and vibration and love that it had worked so hard for.

  Regina lay back and totally collapsed. Kathy lay with her face between her thighs for a good while. Then she pulled herself back and sat up. She turned around and looked at me, like a doctor who had just completed a long, difficult, successful operation. She was tired, drawn, and totally fulfilled. I filled with admiration and warmth for her, and in a gesture that might have seemed the height of the ridiculous, I reached forward and shook her hand. “Congratulations,” I said with my eyes. “Thanks,” she smiled back at me.

  We grinned at one another like fools, and in that instant I found the sister I had been searching for all my life. There would never be misunderstanding between us again.

  Regina roused herself and sat up. She looked like the little girl who had fallen asleep at the picnic and now rubbed her eyes, questioning whether it was time to go home. Now Kathy and I became father and mother. We both moved over and took Regina in our arms. And suddenly, all roles dropped. We were one.

  Now the astonishment reached us, the sense of what it was that just happened. With all the games aside, all the hidden motivations, all the grotesque posturings and silly social roles, the fact was that Regina had had her first orgasm. And that I had known a kind of fucking I didn’t imagine was possible. And Kathy had made peace with her desire for women in the eyes of a man. All of us, in a very important way, had moved a great step forward in maturity and self-understanding. And we had broken the taboo, the taboo of two.

  Three was not only possible, it was desirable, and perhaps superior. Of course, this was the first flash, and in the weeks afterwards, when we tried living together, we found that while three brings greater joy and fuller understanding, it also makes the stakes higher on the pain and suspicion side. And the games got heavy, with Regina attempting to seduce me away from Kathy, and Kathy trying to cut me out from Regina, and me trying to dig each of them independently and yet manipulating things in such a way as to have them together. After a month we were at one another’s throats, and began arguing over ugly things, like money responsibility, and housework sharing, and time allocation.

  We finally split up, going in three different directions. Yet for all the shit which came afterwards, there were times of unalloyed bliss, times when we fucked like one organism, when there was no one doing anything to anyone but all of us pouring ourselves into a common center from which we all took bounty. I was very comfortable with Regina then, because she didn’t look to me for all her needs, and Kathy gave her an emotional fulillment that I couldn’t. Kathy and I became as close as brother and sister, now free to swap stories and feelings, talking about our lovers, male and female, me coming to terms with the ways I played subtle roles to cover up the fact of my homosexual feelings, and playing the mind-bending game of fucking men in order to deny how much I wanted to fuck men.

  We developed a small ritual of holding hands in a circle before eating dinner. The sense of dusk, of good food on the table, of peace settling over the house after the busy day, of the lush evening about to begin, is always with me. And even now, whenever Regina and I sit down to dinner, we hold hands, her left in my right, and we look to the empty spot where Kathy once sat, wondering whether some day the three of us might not be together again, in some way, for some reason.

  But at this moment Kathy is down the California coast, attempting to become an encounter group leader, and fighting the battle between her need of the experience and her subtle cynicism which understands the process as the palliative of our time. And Regina waits for me in Mendocino, in her country home, surrounded by the timid hip and semi-retired of the California middle class. And I long for more adventure, the freedom of wild travel to inner worlds and outer countries.

  The phone rang. It was Roy, a sometime lover I met at the Baths a few months ago. He had some poppers and a few friends who wanted to have an orgy. “Maybe Friday,” he said. “Could be,” I said. I had lost his number, and as he gave it to me, I noticed that I wrote it on the back of the envelope which contained Regina’s letter. She seemed far distant, too removed even for jealousy.

  six.

  I DO NOT know of one successful marriage. This used to be strange until I realized that I do not know one successful human being. The mark of the species is imperfection. And all attempts at improvement end in a more subtle, or a more brutal, form of tyranny. From the earliest moments of existence the poison works its influence. A mother’s anger changes the chemistry of the bloodstream, and the unsuspecting foetus in her belly receives its first negative conditioning. The time before birth is a school for survival, and the first lesson taught is selectivity.

  Then we come gasping into the world, and are met with duplicity, sterility, hatred, confusion, war, disease, cosmic indifference, and the enigma of being. And all the while we are processed by parents, by priest, by teachers, by political leaders, by the men who write the books we read, who make the art, who inscribe the philosophies. And rarely, if ever, do we meet a human being whose only interest in us is seeing that we grow naturally, that we develop fully. No, all those who come into our lives have expectations, needs, prejudices, and so we are shaped and misformed, counting ourselves lucky if we reach maturity without some fatal trauma having radically warped our sense of life.

  And with all this, two people come together in this thing called marriage and agree that it shall be different for their children. And of course it never is.

  I looked at the letter Regina sent, the letter which, like all
the others, calls me to her, asks me to join her in the plot of making a home. We stand naked before each other, our weaknesses and fears, our treachery and instability, all revealed. And we wonder whether our consciousness of how we are made is enough to free us from the trap. I have often thought that consciousness of the condition somehow freed me from that condition, and with that excused all my essays into degeneracy. Until the night I woke up, as it were, in the middle of a vile orgy, with people who were mostly drunk, and whose sense of sexuality rose no higher than a mindless slobbering over anonymous bodies. Although it seemed out of place, I managed a wry smile upon realizing that awareness is illusory frosting on the cake, that what is, and who I am, so immensely pervades and overshadows my understanding of it, that I fooled myself to think that cynical detachment somehow made me “better” than the situation in which I found myself.

  With that last bastion of security destroyed, I have since wandered in a land without markers, not knowing how to judge any action or thought, and so resolved simply to let myself move spontaneously, and not to consider the intricacies of style or content. Yet that led me straight to dissipation, and within myself I became conservative, the final refuge of the aging coward. Two nights later, I called Roy. The tension concerning my decision of going to the Coast, to set up house with Regina and the nightmare suspicion that I was plunging headlong into a self-destructive contract which would activate all the reactive modes of my personality, had me on the ropes. Perhaps I felt by this act of going to Roy’s that I could at least temporarily see myself. Perhaps I had a burning need deep in my bowels and wanted cock.

  I walked over to the West Village, filled with thoughts of deception. In a sense I was betraying my trust to Regina, but I felt no betrayal within myself; the only treason came if I considered her in relation to what was happening. But what was happening didn’t concern her, except by her definition. This got to the core of my resentment: I was fine until her frame of reference got grafted onto my eyes. That was the very trap I didn’t want to succumb to. And by the time I reached Roy’s door, a swaggering sense of bravado propelled me into the house.