The Gentle Degenerates (5 page)
Without planning it, I pulled out of her fast. She opened her eyes in surprise and dismay. I grabbed her thighs and pushed her to the side. She got the idea and rolled over. She lay on her belly, her ass forming a gorgeous mound for my eyes, her thick dancer’s thighs looking very vulnerable, and between them the cunt hair peeking out. I pulled her ass up to bring her to her knees. And then leaned forward to shove her shoulders down, so that her ass stuck up and exposed the pink slit of her pussy more fully. I knelt between her legs and pried the cheeks apart. Her clenched asshole warned me away from it, and the tension in her body almost made me forget the entire thing. But this was the last one, I thought. I’d never be making it again with this bitch, so I might as well get off as good a fuck as I could.
I leaned forward and felt that delicious moment when the head of my cock slides past the feathery touch of the outer cunt lips, meets the massaging pressure of the inner lips, and then sloshes happily and warmly into the very cunt center, that wrinkled bud that is so tightly closed and stretches so tautly to embrace the entire shaft of the cock, from the sensitive head to the broad thick base. I heard her sigh. I moved in very slowly, angling up slightly, and aiming right at the cervix. But I was only three-quarters in when she tightened up. “You’re hurting me again,” she hissed. For an instant I wanted to just hit her as hard as I could, to punch her and knee her in the belly and kick her pussy and beat her ass and slap her face until she just, once and for all, stopped the whining, the inability to withstand just a little pain in order to find a greater pleasure. It was not the fact that she announced I was hurting her that bothered me, but the way she presented it, as though it were a non-negotiable demand for me to stop fucking her altogether. But either I didn’t have the energy or the time wasn’t right, and I pulled back. I brought my cock to the point where the tip of it was right at the opening to her cunt. I nudged in and opened her up gently, and then pulled back and watched the pink membrane close up right after me. I poked in again, and then out. She gasped and wiggled her ass. It was a kind of genital foreplay and ordinarily is just the prelude to deeper things, but I knew this was as much as she could take, so we did it that way. It was like getting a blow job where the lips never leave the head, and although I wanted time and again to shove it all the way up her hole, I contented myself to feeling the heat vibrations dance around the tip of my tool, and then, moving faster, felt the come beginning to stir at the shaft of my cock. I reached down and pried her buttocks apart. I could see the cunt, now wet, sloppily sloshing as it sucked at my prick. I reached lower and opened her cunt with my fingers. She shuddered a bit and grabbed the sheet with her fingers, clenching the fabric into a ball.
The space filled with the heady aroma of cunt goo and now her secretion became the thick white flow that marks real sexual excitement. I flashed the thought that perhaps I could do it, could get her to come. But already I felt the summons deep inside me. I rode, gingerly and tingling, to a small, local, intense orgasm, feeling it all in the head of my cock, coming with most of my tool still outside her, and just the tip spouting the sperm into her blind gash. There was a long dislocated moment, in which I felt myself as myself, and felt her as her, and was aware of some invisible bond which held us together, some kind of relationship that had no name or form or meaning, but just was. Again, I felt us an “us” although all my conscious faculties would have nothing to do with the idea.
I pulled my cock out and she fell face forward on the bed. I sat down where I was kneeling and looked at her. She rolled over and her face presented me with a delightful surprise, for she was relaxed and smiling and warm. “Ohh,” she said, “that was wonderful.” And then slid over and put her head in my lap and her arms around my waist. I suddenly felt good all over and lay down beside her, pulling her into my arms and close to my chest, and suddenly feeling the human warmth that had been missing during the fucking, that quality of person which can’t be defined but is necessary if the soul is not to die of thirst.
Two years had passed since that moment, and in essence, nothing had changed. But what we have become with each other is immeasurably deeper and richer, there is a fullness that goes beyond the meager faculties of consciousness to understand. She is still a bitch and I am still a madman, and yet, no matter how I twist or turn, I find her.
And running in opposition, is my total desire for freedom, to have no human being depend on me, to have no one be able to say I must be in a certain place at a certain time. Now that the revolution is exploding, now that I am reaching a fullness of power and insight, there is a sense of propulsion, a sense of wanting to discard all name and costume, and hurl myself out into the nothingness on a long single fiery trajectory into the final end. And yet I walk, step by step, into the arms of the woman who may be nothing but an early deafness and suffocation.
There are a thousand, a hundred thousand I’s inside me, countless masks and costumes. All the conditioning of my youth, the training that made me a priest a communist a bisexual a fascist a poet a drug addict a teacher a cosmic protoplasmic blip, and all the racial archetypes of the entire species, are continually screaming for recognition, for energy. They all want expression in the social world, to be formed, to be applauded. And inside, there are as many voices clamoring for concentration, for solitude, for irony, for disdain.
And so, who am I? There is no answer to this question. There is only the continual asking and the dizzying stream of suggested response which are no more than gestures in the grand pantomime of Shiva. Here I sit with two dreams beckoning, and there is no way for me to know what to do except watch myself as each day passes, and learn to know where I go and what I do. And one day I may learn how the whole thing turns out.
I stayed with Regina for the whole evening, and later went back to my place, where Kathy was waiting for me. Kathy was more or less living with me at the time. Her old man Jimmy, had just split for Pakistan and she decided to come crash at my pad. We had fucked a bit, but she was still hung up over Jimmy, with whom she had been living for two years. Besides that, she was bisexual and came on very suspicious of my own bi trip. She had just been in Sonoma for a few days, seeing some people. We were very glad to see each other, and decided to turn on. She laid her trip on me and I told her about the scene with Regina.
“Far out,” she said. There was a long silence. “Would you like to meet her?” I asked. She smiled her wicked smile, the space between her two front teeth very suggestive. “It might be interesting,” she said. “She’s got a nice cunt,” I added, “if you can get it hot.” She stood up. “Might be worth a try. I haven’t had a woman for a while.”
I got up also. “Maybe you and I could work out a few things this way too.” The decision made, we threw on our jackets, and went over to visit Regina.
LIKE MOST PEOPLE, I had been raised with the myth that we first make decisions consciously and rationally, and then act on them. A great deal of experience went into teaching me that we come to decisions out of a vast complex of motivations and conditionings and influences which range from pre-natal trauma to the position of the stars. The course of action is, as it were, set independently of that thing we laughingly call “will”, and all our rationalizations are simply excuses we give ourselves to make us more comfortable with whatever it is we have to do anyway. With that understanding, I once and for all dropped all efforts to try to understand why I do things the way I do.
On the way over to Regina’s I pondered the situation. Here were three people largely unsettled and confused about life. Each had tried to come to terms with his or her condition in the single most damaging manner: linking up with someone else who was equally fucked up. The matter was compounded and the ensuing situations brought forth the usual tedious round of hostility and lack of communication and recriminations. Now Regina and her old man were about to split up, as had Kathy with hers, as had I with my woman of several months earlier. Why then, I asked myself, was I acting as agent to bring together yet another menage?
There was, of course, a cornucopia of answers. The ones which came most readily to mind were mischief and messianism. Part of me was excited “just to see what would happen”. Yet another part, having dutifully read Stranger in a Strange Land, was on a communal family trip, and almost immediately I had visions of Kathy and Regina and me living in happy orgiastic community, and then adding on other water brothers and water sisters, and me, probably, operating as the man from Mars. I think it took the form of madness I then affected to breed the self-confidence to pull such tricks off.
We went into Regina’s and I entered first. She saw me and her face lit up. Then she saw Kathy, and her mouth tightened. “Hello,” I said, pointing to Kathy, “this is the other women in my life. I thought it would be nice if the two of you met.” This was clearly a ploy to force recognition of the principle that there should be no jealousy, and we could all be open with each other.
The predictable moment of awkwardness lasted but a brief second and then Regina said, “Would you like to have some coffee?” Kathy looked at her and the two women sized each other up quickly and fully. It was one of the most open untainted glances I had ever seen and for an instant I felt the full power of womanhood when it is not masked behind the social roles of servility and ineptitude that seems to be the woman’s mask in our civilization. Regina spoke. “I don’t mind sharing him,” she said. Kathy smiled at her. “There’s also us,” she said.
Regina had never made it with a woman and this frank confrontation brought a blush of confusion to her cheeks. We hadn’t been here threee minutes and already the tension skewed the energy fields among us like the Ames perception rooms in psychology labs, where all the usual cues are changed, and size and distance play strange tricks with one another. Kathy moved right in and went for the coffee pot. “I’ll help you make coffee,” she said.
Suddenly I realized I had to leave the room. I was relatively straight with each of them, but they needed to get it on with each other, and I went into the living room to put some music on and remove my presence from their encounter with one another. It was quite comfortable; I found Casals playing Bach’s suite for unaccompanied cello, and I took off my clothes and began dancing in the empty space. The house had a feeling of great calm: Danny, the little boy, asleep in the back, and two women bustling in the kitchen. Despite the supposed sexual irregularity being proposed, it just seemed like a quiet evening at home.
They came in with the coffee, and when they saw me naked, exchanged knowing glances and laughed. For the first time, I began to feel uncomfortable. I had unconsciously assumed that this would be an analogue to a harem scene, and that I would move my wives around at will, but I flashed that they had come very quickly to some sort of deep understanding which left me outside of that particular bond. Feeling not a little foolish, I suspected they were doing a little-boy ploy with me, and I extricated myself from the mood at once.
I sat down for coffee and Regina went for some grass; Kathy began prowling the apartment, like a cat who needs to sniff a new place all over before getting comfortable in it. I was looking for us to coalesce, but I decided not to try to force anything. Regina came back and we rolled joints and smoked a little in silence, and after a while a kind of relaxation settled over us. “Are we here for the night?” I asked. The women looked at each other and then back at me. “At least for the night,” said Kathy.
In a flash, I saw their clothes fall off as they sat there, and I realized that in a short time I would probably be having both of them. As it turned out, that was a naive formulation, but for the moment I allowed myself to indulge in all the pretty pictures of what would happen. I would have them kneel at the edge of the bed, asses high, and stand behind them, putting my cock first in one cunt and then the other, switching quickly, to see if I could feel the tactile difference, the inequalities in heat and moisture. And when they embraced, Kathy’s slightly pendulous breasts would cover and enfold Regina’s smaller tits and they would grow wild as their nipples rubbed together. I had never been with two women who would make it with each other as well as me, and I was congratulating myself on solving the problem of the eternal triangle. There was, it seemed, nothing easier, and I wondered why somebody hadn’t thought of it before.
I got up and went into the bedroom, and with great care smoothed out the sheets and covered the whole thing with a white fur rug that was lying on the floor, and then lay down in the center of it, pasha-like, waiting for the harem to file in. Which, in a few minutes, they did. Kathy looked at me and her upper lip curled. “Well, you’ve done it again,” she said.
They came around to either side of the bed and then slowly began taking their clothes off. It was an indelibly beautiful moment. First shirts, revealing the vulnerable throats and biteable shoulders and maddening female breasts. And the pants, sliding slowly down the thighs and past the knees, and finally having to lift one leg to pull the trouser off, and then the other leg, and all the while the V of their crotches shifting and peeking from under their panties. Two of them! I couldn’t believe my luck. And now the final article, as they seemed to bend over in unison to slide the flimsy fabric down, their asses out and that look of expectant concentration that comes on a woman’s face when she removes the most intimate garment.
Then they came forward and kneeled on the bed, one on either side. I opened my arms and they came forward, each laying her head on one of my shoulders and sliding her body up, each taking one of my legs and wrapping her legs around it. At each hip I felt the hard pubic bone and the bristly hair and the soft cunt lips pressing in.
At first, there was no actual sexual flash. A conscious awkwardness hung over everything. I breathed a silent prayer, saying, “Lord, if I must go, let it be at a time like this.” And then the tension melted. All the pictures I had in my head dissolved, and the reality of the moment came crashing home. I leaned my head to one side and felt Kathy’s knowing and salacious mouth on my own. Even in kissing, she was able to manage mockery, and her tongue teased at me, wanting me to go over the edge of passion, to become vulnerable, so that she would then have the decision as to whether to join me or not. She wanted to remain cool and aloof, getting her pleasure from the control room. Regina ran her hands up and down the other side, her fingers doing a tentative dance over my nipple and down to my belly and then twirling into my pubic hair. She slithered down over the top of my thigh and between my legs, to send a shuddering spurt of tingling delight throughout my body. At that, she smiled and licked her lips, and began the slow descent of my body with her mouth. She went slowly, with great hesitation, and although I liked the quality of tentativeness, I was impatient. I put my hand down and cupped her head. She looked up at me and said, “I’ve never sucked a man before.” The announcement stunned me. “A lot of men have wanted me to, but I never could make myself do it.” She looked at both of us. “Now, it feels all right.”
She went consciously toward my cock as Kathy and I watched. Her mouth opened slightly, and paused half a inch away from the head. She began breathing out, and my cock tingled from the warm air bathing it. Everything she did was with delicacy and awareness. She leaned down and moved in for what seemed an eternity, until that single tingling moment when her lips just barely grazed the tip of the tool and she kissed it gently and reverently. Then she dropped her head forward and let her mouth descend on the shaft. She kept her jaw and lips relaxed, and the cock slid in slowly, parting her lips as it entered. I felt faint as I watched inch after inch disappear, watched her lips stretch in a beautiful, obscene embrace over the taut skin. And then, from inside, her tongue started a dance over the entire length of my cock. I was torn between the desire to watch more and the need to fall back and let the pleasure ripples wash over me. Regina moved her head back and I saw the cock emerge, now glistening with wetness, and then she came down and sucked it all in again; her tongue lapped softly and warmly, licking the cock lovingly, and cooing sounds came from deep in her throat.
“God, that looks good!” said Kathy, and she moved down to put her mouth alongside Regina’s. I leaned back then, and waited for the feeling of having both their mouths covering me. But Regina pulled herself back and I felt my cock grow cool in the air. There was some motion by my thighs, and I looked down to find the two of them with their mouths glued together, their arms around one another’s waists, and their legs intertwined like vines around a rod. For a moment I was disgruntled at having my pleasure cut off so abruptly, but immediately new possibilities offered themselves.
I sat up and watched. The sight filled my eyes the way a Boston cream pie fills my mouth. Too much richness to take in all at once. For a moment it looked like a woman lying next to a mirror, with the mirror making subtle changes. Regina’s great ass tightened and loosened, moved back and forth as she brought her cunt to bear against Kathy’s box. And opposite, Kathy’s smaller ass, which was flabbier but more knowing, looser but more decadent, rode in a small jiggling rhythm as she used her cunt more expertly, dipping the pubic bone down and thrusting it between Regina’s thighs. Their mouths were as engulfing as elephant cunts, and they sucked and bit at each other’s lips and tongues, as though it were a matter of life and death to draw some vital fluid out of the other’s body.
At this point it was pure flaming passion, with no self-consciousness or effort. The fire seared them both and they were groping now with their hands, taking their fill of one another’s asses and backs and faces. Regina made a sound like buttons running down the ribs of a washboard when a shirt is being scrubbed, and then collapsed suddenly, letting her body go small and burying her face in Kathy’s throat. Her knees buckled and she drew them toward her belly. Kathy propped herself up on one elbow and with her other hand reached down slowly, deliberately, and cupped Regina’s cunt. For a long while Regina just lay there, and then her legs began to open, majestically. Kathy’s hand went lower and I watched her put a single finger forward, up, and just barely between Regina’s cunt lips. She sighed a long quavering sigh, and her head came back, and her face came up. She had the look of a saint with a beatific vision. She opened her eyes and found herself staring full into Kathy’s face. Within a split second a universe of changes took place in her, all her conditioning and emotions and ideas about things rushed past with lightning speed, were checked and discarded, and what was left was the sense of pure bliss. I couldn’t see Kathy’s eyes, but I imagine she was recording parallel changes. Regina’s look just seemed to open and open and open, as though she were receiving understanding without limit, as though she were finally seeing something for the first time. I have never seen her look so much a woman as at that moment, when she let herself be touched and loved by a woman, and could accept it with all its ambivalence and crashing beauty. Kathy made a sound deep in her throat and said, “Yes, baby, yes.” And then Regina was in her arms, kissing her throat, moving her head down and lapping at her nipples. She took Kathy’s breast in her mouth and sucked at it with enough energy to drain it dry. Her hands came up around Kathy’s shoulders, and she lay back, drawing Kathy on top of her.
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.