by Marco Vassi
When I returned the three of them were standing awkwardly. This was another of those times when there was greater interest in the fact of the act than in the act itself. I imagine we were taken by the idea of an orgy, while the orgy itself seemed a mere vehicle for the theatre we had in mind. I put the mattress down, undressed, and the four of us sank to the floor. I turned to Joyce and Al took Connie in his arms. Joyce was about thirty-five, and she look as though she had been through all the scenes, the kind of chick who starts the evening by getting pissed on in the shower and takes off from there. Her breasts had the sag and stretched skin of a woman her age, and her cunt was totally raunchy, with pendulous lips that seemed permanently bruised. I couldn’t begin to imagine how many cocks had been inside her. We wasted no time on any preliminaries. She lay back and opened her legs; she was already wet. I moved on top of her and plunged right into her pussy. It was an immediate turn-on. Her experienced cunt began to surge inside and grip my cock, massaging it as she pushed her pelvis into me. She closed her eyes and her mouth dropped open. I put my fingers between her lips and she started biting and sucking them, moaning in a low purring sound.
I looked to the right and saw Al’s large bulk lower itself onto Connie’s thin body. Connie was one of those chicks who put up a kind of superficial defense against fucking,but once they are into it, let go completely. She didn’t have orgasms in the conventional sense, no great surging come, but rather a continual rippling opening, a sensual movement of the cunt that seemed like a dance and could go on for hours. She was best when a man had one of those fatigue hard-ons, when there is no real urge to come, but a low-level excitement which keeps the cock hard. Then her cunt was like a mindless mouth, feeling the cock churn inside her, reaming every inch of her pussy. She didn’t get very wet, but gave off enough lubrication to keep the slit tight and slippery. Now she brought her knees to her chest and exposed her cunt fully. She looked up at Al, who began grunting and banging his weight into her. “Oh fuck it, fuck it baby, fuck my cunt,” she said. At her words, Joyce turned on and started to grab my ass to pull me deeper into her.
For a while the four of us rode like that, Al working his tool into Connie and me sloshing around in Joyce’s brimming twat. And then Carol walked into the room. She seemed frantic and went about pointedly ignoring us, although we were aware that she was totally aware of us. It presented a slightly surrealistic picture, and the four of us continued our movement, but with a kind of suspended animation, as though we were waiting to see what Carol would do. For a moment I imagined she might join us, and then, to my astonishment, she switched on the television.
An old Western came on, and the sound of cattle thundering across a prairie assailed our ears. It was too funny, and we began laughing. At that, Carol let out a yipping yell and went tearing back into the kitchen where she started pounding furiously at her typewriter once more.
We all looked at one another, shrugged our shoulders, and started in again. This time I was ready to come. I reached over and put one hand on Connie’s breast, and began to massage her nipple. She moaned and spread her legs wider for Al to sink into her. Joyce had gone catatonic. She was just lying back, ready to take whatever I gave her, letting her cunt be an open receptacle, trading movement for sensation. I turned my attention to her and wondered again at the nature of woman. No matter how old or young, how sophisticated or naive, no matter what race or education or situation, when it came right down to it, woman was just cunt. When she took the cock inside her, she became most what she essentially is, the vessel, the chalice for the sperm of life. And the body and personality attached to the cunt are simply the trappings, the nicety of setting.
The two women crying out, Al working furiously to ream Connie’s cunt, and me swimming in Joyce’s experienced box, we pumped and thrust until I could feel Joyce rippling under me, and my cock answered the call by summoning the sperm up from my balls and shooting it wildly into her. At that, she jerked her whole body forward, grabbed onto my shoulders, and sucked at my cock with her pussy as the orgasm raked the inside of her body. Simultaneously, Connie threw her legs completely back, so that her ankles were practically at her knees, and then grabbed her feet with her hands and spread them apart. Her legs made a wide split V, and she looked like a diver doing a somersault off the high board. Al came up on his toes so his entire torso was off the floor, and he crashed into her, her sobbing and loving the punishment. He started to make a coughing grunting sound, and pumped harder and harder until he lost all control and his body flopped and convulsed into her like a great fish jerked up on land. She took him all in, pulling at his cock, drawing the sperm deeply into her, stretching her body as wide as she could to engulf him entirely. He came for a long time, and then subsided and sank onto her. She wrapped her legs around him and licked his throat and face, running her hands up and down his spine and taking handfuls of flesh to pinch and pummel.
Finally she too stopped, and the four of us lay quiet and breathing hard. Just then Carol came rushing through the room, headed for the door and went tittering out into the hall and downstairs. Joyce looked up, startled. “What’s that?” she said. “What’s wrong with her?” demanded Connie. I smiled. “Oh, she’s just tripping on her own tonight,” I said. “She’s all right.”
We rearranged ourselves and lit some more joints. The first round had been powerful but short, and we needed to digest what had happened before we’d be ready for second helpings. I put on some music and we sat in silence, smoking, listening to it. Connie and I got into an eye dance, with all the glimmerings and half-meanings being suggested in our glances and facial gestures. She began to breathe harder and leaned toward me, her breasts hanging forward. I dropped my reefer and bent down under her breasts, turned my face up, and took one of the swaying orbs totally into my mouth. She gasped and pulled my head harder against her. Simultaneously, Al reached from behind and held her other breast in his hand. She let out a low moan and simply sank back, totally passive. I moved onto her, sucking at her nipple, while Al pummeled her breast and brought his mouth down on hers. Gradually her movements became more frantic, and something was happening with her which seemed more than what Al and I were providing. Then I looked down and saw Joyce, lying long between Connie’s legs, her mouth glued to her cunt, sucking greedily and noisily.
Connie seemed to have forgotten about us and was centering all her concentration on her crotch. I stopped what I was doing and sat back to watch. Joyce was nuzzling and burrowing into the cunt, licking and slurping as though the thing could actually be eaten. Then she grabbed the cunt lips with her teeth, and began gnawing on them. Connie began to scream, not a yell of pain but a kind of cry of joyous anguish, as though what was happening to her were too much to bear. Joyce put both her hands between the cunt lips and pried them open, and then dove into the exposed center, again thrusting her tongue in and out, cupping it to lap up the juices. Connie was letting out gasping moans when suddenly Joyce covered the entire cunt with her lips and began sucking her breath in. She was creating a vacuum in Connie’s cunt, sucking out the air, making the walls collapse. Connie grabbed my arm with one hand and dug her nails into the flesh, all the while grunting “Ungh, ungh, ungh,” and rolling her head from side to side. Then, with a startling swiftness, Joyce pulled a lungful of air through her nostrils and blew it forcibly into Connie’s pussy. Connie seemed to explode. The cry which came from her didn’t sound human, and her arms and legs flailed out like a sky diver’s during free fall. Joyce reversed the action and sucked all the air out of her cunt again, and again blew in, doing it again and again until Connie became a mass of quivering protoplasm, babbling mindlessly, drooling, hiccuping.
Suddenly Al moved. He snaked quickly down next to Joyce and pulled her back roughly by the shoulder, and sank his face between Connie’s legs. He went at it with a will, but when he used his teeth he really bit, coming down hard on the sensitive cunt lips. Connie began pounding the floor with her fists, and thrus
ting her cunt into his face, urging him to ravish her more. I moved up and dropped my cock into her mouth. She sucked at it like a baby on a rubber nipple. When it was hard I pulled out and hurled myself toward Joyce, who was kneeling over watching Al eat Connie’s cunt. I took her from behind and fucked her for a long time, watching the cunt lips pull in and push out as my cock slid back and forth along the slimy track.
Then there was a kind of pause, and Al came up from his feast and I pulled out of Joyce. He looked at us, and I turned Joyce around, offering him her ass and cunt. He didn’t hesitate a moment, and shoved his large tool into the steaming crack. Joyce took it without seeming to notice that it was a different man inside her now; she just leaned back into him and let him fuck her. I moved onto Connie and thrust into her defenseless cunt. She had no resistance, no tension. I drove all the way up past her cervix the first time, and lodged there. Her legs came up, and the tip of my cock snuggled even deeper into the back folds of her box. Then, bracing my feet on the floor, I began rooting and scooping into her, using my cock like a drill, as though I were trying to break through the back wall of the vagina. Her mouth opened and she froze. The sensation seemed to have reached a level where she could no longer move, but just hang in there and let it happen. The heat inside her was astonishing; I felt as though my cock were being fried.
Then Joyce crept forward, Al coming behind her, walking on his knees, keeping his cock inside her. She moved up level with Connie’s body, and lowered her mouth onto Connie’s stretched lips. Her tongue slithered out and completely filled Connie’s mouth. She ground into her, mashing her lips against the other lips, thrusting her tongue again and again into Connie’s throat, until Connie began to respond, climbing slowly out of her stupor to give back the kisses she was receiving. Then the two of them began a dance of lips and tongues, wetly covering each other’s mouth and chin, sucking and licking. At the same time Al began to drive harder into Joyce’s cunt, which hung wetly under her upturned ass. I started to feel the heat rising in my groin.
In a moment, a strange transformation took place. We all knew that we were approaching orgasm, and we all knew that we knew. It was one of those dangerously self-conscious moments when you know everything is going perfectly and will continue to do so unless the thought-machine begins producing distractions in the mind. We hung on the balance of our awareness, and kept free of all fantasies. Al and I drove harder and the two women kissed more passionately. The tension grew, and the quotient of release increased. I now felt as though I were driving right into Connie’s belly, and Al hit at Joyce’s cheeks like a pile-driver. We rode and rode, higher and heavier, until all four of us stiffened at once, and then let the floodgates burst open, as Al and I shot our loads into our respective women, and the women bucked under us, coming, and moaning into one another’s mouths.
There was a general collapse and we all lay there, still and quiet. Suddenly the door opened and Carol came in again. She had five ice cream cones and breezed into the room like the zany wife in the TV situation comedies. “Ooh,” she said, “I hope our guests are having a good time.” For all the corniness of it, the humor was genuine, and we all began laughing. Carol bustled among us, handing out the cones, and we gradually sat up, one by one, like children at a picnic.
Carol went back into the kitchen and in a few seconds we heard the typewriter clacking again. “Ooh, what a story I’m writing about you,” she called out.
Suddenly, I realized what was happening. We had come in as a group, the orgy having been forming for some time in our minds. Carol greeted us without a context, and was thrown into confusion. She didn’t feel she could join us, and yet didn’t know how to be delicately unobtrusive. So, consciously or not, she hit upon the brilliant notion of acting totally zany, figuring that a featherhead would be the least threatening to the vibrations. My admiration and liking for her went up immensely, and I couldn’t help comparing her to Regina, for whom this kind of scene would have been a crushing trauma, and who would either have asked everyone to leave, or gone off to sulk very loudly.
It seemed that a part of mind slid open and I saw my entire relationship with Regina in a new light, and now I couldn’t even remember what it was about her that had attracted me so violently for so long. I pictured her face in my mind, and like a lightning streak I remembered a picture of my mother when she was thirty. Of course, she and Regina could have been twins. I didn’t see it because my mother has grown so much older and heavier, with grey hair.
I began to laugh. The simplicity of it almost reduced it to the banal. Like all modern men, I had become an Oedipus who could only deal with the reality symbolically. Instead of fucking my mother, I chose a woman who reminded me of her when she was young and most beautiful, and when I was at an age to be imprinted with her looks and my feelings for her at the time. The mists burned away from my eyes and I felt as I do in therapy when some revelation comes crashing home and a great load of confusion and anxiety is removed.
I got up and went into the kitchen. Carol stopped her typing and looked up at me. Her face was split into the opposing feelings of doubt and warmth. I looked deep into her eyes and the communication that passed between us erased all her doubts.
I went over to her and took her in my arms. What I was feeling right then couldn’t be called love. Rather it was a sort of friendship and intimacy that transcended all attempts to describe or explain it. We both knew, and knew that we knew, and there was no “what” to confuse the pure act of knowing.
When I went back in, the others were dressing. I offered to have them spend the night, but they all wanted to leave. There was a polite exchange of farewells and they went off. I turned from the door to see Carol standing there, now naked. She came up and took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. I let myself be led in, and lay on top of her when she threw herself on the bed.
I held her tightly in my arms and felt the familiar curves of her. I felt my cock begin to stir, painful though it was. Carol looked at me, smiled a warning smile, and said, “You’d better have enough left for me.”
My heart filled with affection for her. She was able to take in the entire evening, handle it magnificently, assimilate it, and then come back to me without any of her feelings diminished or distorted. All she wanted was me, but in a very clean, open way. There was no hidden clause concerning my sexual fidelity or any exclusiveness with her.
Then I understood what I could never get clear with Regina, that specialness between two human beings is always an ad hoc contract. It is made on pure impulse, and has no justification other than its own existence. When either or both of the parties feel it disappear or drive it away, then it no longer exists, and there can be no recriminations. Also, it has nothing to say about sexual activity with others. Somehow, between two people, a special kind of flow is possible, and when that is there, there are no rules about anything else. All is clear.
And the people who just left were not demeaned by it. They were part of the new international brotherhood and sisterhood of sexual journeymen, people who could enjoy the sexual act fully upon first meeting, because their heads were in a place that allows fulness without the intervening struggle. This was not to obviate the beautiful richness that grows between two people who are with each other a long time, but to suggest that there was an alternative between promiscuity and fidelity. It involved an ability to adapt to very rapid, very heavy changes, very quickly, and hang in for the ride without either getting unconscious or freaking out.
My now hard cock slipped into Carol’s cunt, and I was home. We fucked simply and warmly, without any special trips, just experiencing each other and letting all our need and fear and love hang out. We pumped steadily into one another, letting our climax build slowly and regularly, savoring the climb, kissing and caressing each other along the way. Her breasts crushed against my chest, her mouth on mine, her ass a soft engine moving her cunt into me, I felt myself in paradise. Not a sexual paradise,
but a paradise of fucking, where that ultimate and terribly final act attained its total purity.
To fuck, this is all we know and all we derive from. The rest is food, clothing, and shelter. And all the accomplishments of our civilizations, every last work of religion or art or science, has been nothing but a frippery to pass the time away, to keep oneself busy while one was not doing the only thing in which human beings achieve totality: fucking.
Our breaths became as one, our moans mingled, our bodies yearned toward each other, and as the sperm rolled up the tube and spurted burningly into her, her cunt grabbed my cock and rippled again and again onto it, as she spent herself joyously and openly.
Unconsciousness followed soon after, and my last thought before sleep was a vision of a Buddhist Valhalla, a Nirvana of the Koran, where woman, eternal woman, lay in smiling understanding and possession of everything that poor scrambling man spends all his days searching for.
twelve.
Yet the problem was merely more clearly defined. To change from Regina to Carol was no solution in and of itself. What had to be guarded against was falling into the same kinds of dynamics which had strangled me in the earlier relationship. I wondered what would happen if the scene of the night of the orgy was reversed, and Carol were to come home with some people and begin fucking on the living room floor. At this point, I wouldn’t mind, but if that kind of possessive clinging set in, I would once again be prey to jealousy. Yet the more I opened to Carol, the more vulnerable I became. Obviously the thing I was looking for lay in my attitude toward the relationship, for the relationship is always the same.