"Come then unto me, dear Howard, and let us die together . . . entwined and in rapture."
There came the time when Amanda was indisposed on account of her monthly flow, and still they felt that certain hunger for each other. "I have heard, my sweet husband, that there be other means of achieving gratification. Women in my circle have confided in me . . . "
She took his member into her mouth, yet they both found that somewhat pallid, and hardly conducive to pleasure. Thinking for a moment, she smiled mysteriously, then requested that he fetch from their chest of medicaments a certain emolument reputed to be efficacious for chafing of the skin. "Annoint your rampant flesh with this, darling Howard mine, then gently, most gently, attempt entry into my . . . my hind opening. Yes, dearest one, that passage through which . . . I relieve a fullness of the bowel." She blushed scarlet and hid her face against his chest.
This particular modality they initially found somewhat strange. Still, even contending with a reluctance founded on concerns of uncleanliness and ingrained prohibitions against the sin of Sodom, they came to greatly appreciate the sensual enjoyments of the practice.
Then the children came. In twenty-two years there were nine live births, for women were more fertile in those days and offspring were a necessary adjunct to family life. Boys and girls underfoot did necessarily inhibit the more daring displays of affection between the loving couple, but they did kiss and touch at every opportunity. (This aroused considerable envy from less fortunate married friends and acquaintances.) In the privacy of the bedchamber they continued to demonstrate their desire for each other in a variety of inventive ways. Their children matured into loving and affectionate adults. Then external events intervened.
The two oldest boys left home to serve in Mr. Lincoln's army. They died to make men free . . . and for the same cause did Howard shed his own blood. His company had been holding the flank behind a rail fence near Antietam Creek. The Reb cannonade had taken them by surprise. He had awakened on a filthy cot in a hospital tent. The pain had been almost more than he could bear. Later on they told him that the ragged skirmish line of amateur soldiers had saved the Union that day.
Howard came limping home on a wooden leg. Amanda had taken him into her arms and stained his dirty blue tunic with her tears. They conceived their last child that night.
In later years Howard and Amanda, now gray-haired and wrinkled, would sit side by side on the porch, rocking and watching the sun set. She might occasionally reach over and take his hand and raise it to her lips. He might occasionally reach over and and stroke her cheek. Or he might mischievously reach over and down and stroke her hind cheeks. On cold nights they would huddle together under the featherbed, and if moved by passion -- or even by just fond remembrance of past times -- they would join their flesh. And the sparks still flew.
* * *
THE TIGER OR THE LADY
The zookeeper had the hots for him. She was very much into wild, wild, kinky sex, so they said. Gave great head, swallowed, even took it up the ass. A real animal.
"Show up at the tiger's den at midnight," the note read. Pussycat's cage would be unlocked and the beast anaesthetized. "All the better to make the beast with two backs."
But those rumors about her sadistic tendencies. And his predecessors who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. And it was a man-eating Bengal tiger.
The cage door swings open at his touch. Too dark to see. What's that sound?
* * *
ALL THE GOOD MEN
". . . are either married or gay."
"You believe that, Mandy?"
"It's solid-gold bedrock truth, Jan. I've had the hots for this fine-looking guy for a good while now and, well, how should I put it? He should only be doing to women what's being done to him."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Ri-ight. He lets men stick their cocks straight up that sweet ass of his."
Mandy had kept her eye on Jim since he moved into the apartment directly below hers several months ago. With his well-muscled body and wholesome good looks he caught her eye all right. But, a sweet hello to him got only a perfunctory mini-smile back. Didn't he like her? Maybe he was just shy. Or maybe . . .
Damn. This just wouldn't do. She'd have to get to the bottom of this. Even if that meant extraordinary measures.
A wood augur drilled a 1/2" diameter hole in the hardwood floor and gave her a line of sight into Jim's bedroom. Directly into his bed, in fact. Covered with a small shag rug the hole shouldn't be visible from below. But, after dark, with the aid of a night-vision scope she'd be able to see what was happening when Jim had his nightly visitations. Visitations from men, she suspected.
That Thursday night was her chance to test the setup. Jim's visitor had been there for half an hour and she could hear the familiar sounds from down below. The creak of mattress springs and . . .
In the ghostly-green display of the scope she could make out the faintly gleaming globes that had to be bare buttocks. Someone's sweet ass. Someone who was stark naked on hands and knees. And someone else was coming up from behind and, yes, inserting. Penetrating. Fucking. The rhythm of the thrusting was hypnotic in a weird sort of way. She could just barely catch the grunting sounds they made. It looked like the man behind was reaching around to grasp the penis of his partner. Oh yes, to bring him off while still inside him. One of her own lovers had done something like that to her clit while doing her from behind. He had claimed that her orgasmic pussy contractions made him explode. Could be Jim was making his partner explode. Inside him. Deep inside his pipework.
Jim was the bottom all right. No mistaking his build. Or the way he kissed the man who had just finished fucking him. Kissed him in a way that he'd never kiss her.
Damn, life was so unfair. Mandy would give anything to have Jim. To have him inside her. Even inside her own ass, if it came to that. She wasn't much into anal, but she might be willing with the right guy. Like Jim, for example. But how? How?
Mandy had once let a woman she worked with talk her into going to a live gay male sex show once. What the queers did to each other made her sick. It was all so squishy, so dirty, so totally perverted. The one guy's cock pushing into the crack between the other guy's hind cheeks and slowly disappearing into the hole. Ugh! But, you know, when you watched it happening for real, not as a performance, but in the heat of passion, it was different somehow. As if, as if there were something intense, something so hotly magical that it pulled you right into it, that it made you want to be part of it. And it made you wonder that if men could get such superheated pleasure from each other's bodies, from sticking it in to another guy's ass, even from taking it up the ass themselves . . . well, then what did they even need women for?
From the secret journal of James Warlimont:
February 10.
I can't fucking believe it! That silly slut upstairs just drilled a hole through my ceiling. The little clumps of wood shavings on the floor would have given it away, even if I hadn't seen the raggedy circle up there. Does she think I'm stupid, or what?
She's had some kind of weird kind of fixation on me for a good while now. I've got an intuition about women, even if I am mostly terrified of them. Maybe she's got something like the hots for me. . . . Anyhow, it'll be interesting when she spies on Arnie tearing up my ass tonight. It turns me on thinking about it. Watched by a woman while sodomized! Wow! Am I turning into a pervert, or what?
It turned out that it wasn't that hard to make friends with Jim. All Mandy had to do was go slow, really slow, and not be pushy. Jim was really a very lonely person, just as she had suspected. He may have had an active sex life, but he had no one he could talk to. No real friends. It was kind of sad, really.
February 28.
I like her! She's soft and gentle in a way that makes me yearn for . . . mothering, or something. Well, anyway, she's the first female I've managed to get that close to since that horrible experience with whats-her-cunt way back in high school. I
don't even want to think about that.
It was like talking to a girlfriend, rather than to a guy, when she had one of her chitchats with him. There was none of the underlying sexual tension that would inevitably creep into a man-woman thing. The playacting. The put-on vulnerability and giggly flirtatiousness that was expected of the woman. The barely-controlled aggressiveness that the guy was supposed to show. It was all so very stupid and so often turned sour. But talking to a gay man -- a queer, by golly! -- felt so right. So comfortable. She liked the feeling, damn it! And if that made her some kind of a fag hag, well then, fuck it!
March 13.
She started to give me a good-night kiss on the cheek and then I turned my head and our lips met. It felt good! Her lips were so warm, and I felt . . . I felt the blood thunder through my veins and . . .
. . . And he had kissed her back. And put his arms around her. And that should have been the start of something or other. But it wasn't.
March 15.
All right, so I couldn't get it up. Not surprising, considering how scared I am of women. But, this was the first time in I don't know how long that I wanted to get it up for a woman. To stick it into her. Into her pussy, by golly. And I couldn't!
Mandy felt let down. But, not ready to give up. Not yet.
What does it take to make a gay man hard. A man who gets his pleasure in taking it up the ass? Well, maybe giving it to him up the ass . . .
The next time that Mandy saw Jim, and there was a next time (she made damn sure of that!), she had a little surprise waiting. Actually, not such a little surprise. Under her jeans, making a suspicious bulge was . . .
March 21.
I don't know why I agreed to come visit her again. I'd made such a fool of myself last week and I thought she'd be glad to see the last of me. But, damn, she practically dragged my ass through the door of her apartment. And, there was something very fishy going on. Under her jeans, making a suspicious bulge was . . .
. . . a huge, fat lifelike dildo!
A dildo-equipped woman has one essential advantage over men when it comes to fucking someone in the ass. She can keep pumping steadily in and out for 20, 30, 45 minutes or more -- as long as her hip joints hold out. . . .
March 21 (continued).
My ass was getting sore. Even with the lube dripping out of me it felt like I was getting friction burns. She was wearing my damn hole out! And when I finally begged for mercy after what must have been a fucking hour, even after coming a couple of times I still had the hardest hardon of my life. And then she grabbed it, bent over, and stuffed it right into herself from behind. Into her pussy!
So Mandy finally got what she wanted -- getting plowed by her gay boyfriend. It felt good while it lasted, and it lasted for quite a while, though not as long her own turn at the wheel. But, there was something missing. Jim wasn't quite there. It was like being fucked by a machine.
March 21 (continued).
I couldn't really feel anything. Well, sure, I there was the physical sensation of her pussy walls rubbing on my cock as I pumped in and out of her. Not all that different than pronging a man in the ass, actually. Well, maybe not nearly as tight a fit , and a bit slicker. . . . Kind of like ass-fucking when you overdo it with the lube.
It was the emotional charge, the feeling of being connected to another living, breathing human being, that just wasn't there. . . . So, what I did was shut my eyes and fantasize that I really was fucking a man. With her on hands and knees, it wasn't any big deal, really. But, it was like I doing work, rather than having fun.
"Well, Jan, I really don't know. It was like using a penis with a man attached to masturbate with. Not really lovemaking at all."
"So, that's the end of that, huh? No more gay boyfriend?"
"I didn't say that."
April 12.
She was knocking on my door. I didn't answer. She kept on knocking, then started pounding. "I know you're in there!" she bellowed. I finally had to let her in. Didn't want to upset the neighbors.
"Look, I'm not gonna rape you," she said. Actually, yeah, that's what it had felt like -- rape, and I told her so. She started crying then, and there was nothing to do but try to comfort her. I hugged her then and held her in my arms. Somehow, one of my hands strayed southward, and on to her ass cheek. I had a hardon. One thing led to another . . . and I remember thinking, Sheeit! I'm turning into a fuckin' hetero!
"Sure, I was lonely and horny, Jan, but I don't know if I can deal with this weird stuff."
"You mean being being both a top and a bottom? If you're used to being the fuckee all your life, then it's hard to think of yourself as the fucker."
"Stop it! That's not funny."
April 20.
Well, the good news is that it's over. It's a relief, really, not having my sexual identity fucked with. Not having to cope with a demanding woman. Not having to perform.
The bad news is that it's over. I miss her. I miss her touch, and yes, even the caress of her pussy on my cock. I'm lonely, damn it! But, I'm still gay, I think. . . . What in the hell am I going to do?
"You're kidding, Mandy! With your mother? I can't fucking believe it!"
"You'd damn well better believe it. Jim latched onto her like a drowning man onto a lifesaver. And mom wasn't exactly averse to the idea, either. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was her idea in the first place. She's been awfully lonely since dad dumped her for a younger woman a few years back. And, come to think of it, he's not the first hand-me-down boyfriend of mine she's grabbed. She used to joke that my job was to break them in and train them for her."
May 13.
Lanie is better in the sack than her daughter. She's not quite as aggressive, but she makes up for that in warmth. And, in knowhow. She's taught me quite a few things. Not to mention that, unlike her daughter, she likes taking it up the ass. That way it's easier to pretend I'm fucking a man.
Best of all, she's not a remodeler. Unlike Mandy, she totally accepts me as I am and doesn't try to convert me into a straight. Yeah, Lanie draws the line at strapping on a strap-on and assfucking me. But, that's okay. Whenever I get the urge I can always go out and hook up with one of my old boyfriends. I seem to be getting the urge less and less often lately.
I first met Lanie almost by accident. I was over Mandy's place when the phone rang, and she was in the bathroom and told me to pick it up. Wow! What a velvety smooth voice! I thought. And we started talking. And we talked. And talked.
At first it was just a friendship thing. Then it evolved to where I was her companion for social nights out. After a while I was coming home with her for coffee and keeping her company. She was so damn lonely!
The first few times we slept together it was innocent, just holding each other and whispering. And crying. And sleeping in each other's arms. Then one night she began stroking me. . . .
"You're kidding, Mandy! He's gonna marry your mother? I can't fucking believe it!"
November 21.
What am I doing marrying a woman? A woman with wide hips and a fat ass? A woman old enough to be my mother? I guess I'm just a totally fucked up, confused human being. That's why I'm writing this down, I guess. So maybe someone, somewhere can make sense of it all.
Sure, many of you guys out there reading this will laugh. But, you know, maybe the last laugh is on you. Maybe you're even more fucked up than I am.
* * *
IMPERSONATION
"You want to what??? Change into a woman? Complete with breasts and . . . ? Biting off a bit more than you can chew, aren't you, my dear?"
"Belle, will you lay off me with your doubts and second-guessing and above all, your damnable nagging and leave me in peace for a change!"
Dressing up as a woman was nothing out of the ordinary for Frank. He had done it often enough. Transvestism was the current fashion in the academic set, and even drastic cross-gender behavior was nothing much out of the ordinary.
Frank had a slim build and was only a couple of inches above average height. Wit
h a bit of padding at the chest and hips and application of appropriate emoluments, he could convincingly mimic the appearance of a woman. The difficulty lay in mastering the gestures: walking and talking like a woman, performing common, everyday actions in the style of a woman, acting like a woman, being a woman in all the essential ways but one. And even that one was a surmountable barrier . . . if he availed himself of certain resources.
The Alumni Association Masquerade Ball was the grand social event of the season at the Highsmith Institute of Applied Thaumaturgy. A successful Ball helped raise sufficient funds to build much-needed lab facilities, pay salary increases for the faculty, and avert a strike by the maintenance staff by paying their salary increases as well.
The Syntax of Seduction Page 33