The Gentle Degenerates (6 page)

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 hesitation, 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.

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.

He was there, dressed in a shirt which came to just below his cock, and nothing else on. The lights were very low, and I could hear voices in the next room. A thrill of heavy anticipation ran through my balls and I felt my ass tingle. Whatever the psychology of the situation might have been, the straight biological lesson was clear: I got something from making it with men that just didn’t happen with women. And there was no one in all of creation who could tell me it was a perversion or a sickness. My motives might have been awry, but the simple act of homosexual fucking was as right as anything a man and women did together. I smelled orgy in the air, and Roy smiled at me, his teeth gleaming between his black lips as he said “Hello” in his strong West Indian accent.

“Some friends of mine came over,” he continued. “Come in and meet them.” I followed him into the living room, a small New York parody on the name, barely large enough to accomodate the five people now in it. The introductions went around: John, Paul, George. It was a mixed bag. John was a hulking narcissist, almost six feet two, with a thrust of dirty blond hair and a perpetual pose in his posture. He looked over at me in that odd way they have, suggesting that the only proper relation was the way in which I would worshipfully look at him. Paul was a queen in men’s clothing. He was one of those super-soft black boys who look as though they spent the first sixteen years of life on mama’s tit. Great pendulous lips and soft liquid eyes, his skin shone with a dull glow and his ass rose provocatively in a high tight curve through his clinging white pants. George looked like a librarian, with an indeterminate face. He could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty years old, and had a certain faded quality about him, like a piece of driftwood that has been in the sun a long time.

I sat down, took a proffered beer, and joined the party. It was at the small-talk stage, tales of last year on Fire Island, gossip about the raids in the local gay bars. There were issues of Screw and Gay strewn about. Within half an hour or so I would be involved with these men in a groaning tangle of bodies, with cocks and asses and fantasies open full blast, and all of us sucking and fucking and diving in and out of whatever forms of sexual excitement we dug, and yet here we were, indulging in inane chitchat, without any warmth or true humor or eye contact. We were like soldiers about to attack an enemy fortification, making small talk to cover our nervousness, or to give some social pretext to delay our readiness. Men don’t seem to need as much foreplay as women.

Roy stood up. “Why don’t we go make ourselves comfortable,” he said. We all looked at one another, sized up one another’s bodies and took a fix on the flesh, and headed for the bedroom. This was a different affair, bigger than the living room, and consisting mostly of two huge mattresses laid side by side on the floor. A red light made the room nicely suggestive. And one wall was a set of full-length mirrors. We filed in, hesitated for a moment, and without further ado, began taking off our clothes. There was something of the locker room about the activity, and part of me resented the stereotypic nature of the scene. Yet I realized that acting out one drama was as valid as any other, and elegance had so often got in the way of utility that I could appreciate the briskness of this approach. As we dropped our pants and took off our shirts, we exchanged more or less surreptitious glances, measuring the sizes of cocks and looking at how the asses hung.

Then we were nude. Paul fell forward and lay on his back on the mattress, squirming a little and stretching luxuriously. John struck a magazine cover pose against the wall, leaning his torso back and pulling on his cock with his right hand. For a moment I smirked at the silliness of the posture, but then an old familiar weakness made my knees go slack and I felt a pressure in my chest. His cock grew hard and bulged out from the pubic hair, thick and mean. His balls hung like oat sacks underneath. I found myself moving over toward him, mesmerized by the tool. I looked into his eyes and met the cool disdain with which he meets all men, the knowledge that the sheer presence of his body is enough to get men to suck him off and let themselves be fucked. I stood in front of him, and then sank heavily to my knees. The cock shot straight up before me, throbbing slightly. The purple tip contrasted with the pale white shaft. For a long while I drank it in with my eyes, feasting myself on the weight and succulence of it. Then, trembling and unable to bear the tension any longer, I leaned my head forward, and with a sob took the velvety lush knob in my mouth. My mouth was dry and his cock rasped against my lips. I licked the tip of his cock with my tongue and wet it. I pulled back and plunged forward again, this time using my tongue like a washcloth, lapping the cock all over, covering it with saliva, making it slippery. He drew in his breath with short hisses and put his hand on the top of my head, giving me gentle pressure to go even more forward. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and then began the long slow descent on the entire shaft, feeling it go past my teeth, over my tongue and to the back of my mouth. I relaxed deep in my jaw and thenlet the immense prick slide into my throat, making the opening very wide, deeper, until it lodged down almost to my adam’s apple. I felt myself heaving from deep in my stomach, and as my body convulsed, my throat tightened its grip on the head of his cock. He groaned and his knees buckled. As much as I was able, I smiled to myself; I had been able to blow his cool as well as his cock.

I pulled back and felt his cock make the reverse journey as my throat snapped shut behind it, and it slithered up my tongue to my lips, where I kissed the tip of it tenderly, loving it with my tongue.

I moved back and lay on the mattress. Right behind me Paul was lying on his stomach, his mouth stretched tight around Roy’s cock. He worked with that quick feverish corkscrew motion that many cocksuckers affect, but which has always left me cold. I prefer long-drawn-out affairs where the entire mouth and throat become totally sensitive and actually communicate with the cock. Of course, I get into frenzies also, but they come as the culmination of a long preparation of slow sucking. George was lying behind Paul, his face buried in the large black buttocks. He had the cheeks pried apart with his hands, and his tongue worked up and down the entire crack of Paul’s ass. Paul wriggled and pushed his ass back, and with a gulping sound George thrust his tongue forcibly and wetly into his asshole. He slobbered like a dog with a new bone.

John came forward and knelt on the bed between my legs. He looked down at me sternly, and despite myself, I felt my limbs grow heavy. He moved up until his knees were prying my thighs apart and then he reached down and pulled my legs up and placed my ankles over his shoulders. My ass was all the way up off the bed and exposed to. his menacing cock. “Some jelly,” I said, hoping for lubricant. But he just looked down at my ass, spread the cheeks apart, and brought his rod up into the crack. I was dry and tight, not having had a man for weeks. He put his fingers in my mouth and I covered them with saliva, which he then brought down to rub on the tip of his cock. Slowly the large engine slid toward the tiny opening, and when it nudged right at the hole, I shuddered and let all my tension go. I was his, no matter how much it hurt or what he did. I was open and vulnerable, and all I wanted was to feel that hot gnarled prick move its way into my bowels and fuck me until I screamed my way into oblivion.

I felt it break in, and for a moment it seemed that I was losing my virginity all over again. A sharp spasm of pain went through my middle and I caught my breath. He wasn’t cruel and didn’t push in hard; but he wasn’t kind, so the steady intrusion continued. The expression on his face hadn’t changed. It was the trancelike solemnity of an anaesthetist putting the mask over someone’s face. I didn’t know whether he was experiencing pleasure in his cock or not; his entire attention seemed focused on me on my reactions. I let my legs fall back and reached down to spread my cheeks further, to pull the membrane of my asshole back so that he didn’t pull on it as he entered. He went deeper and deeper until he was all the way inside. I felt the end of him as a dull, sweet ache deep inside me. And from that point all else flowed.

Then he melted and swooped down on me. His mouth found mine and to my surprise, his lips were gentle and sensitive. All the hard lines in his face melted, and suddenly he seemed very young, no more than a teenager. His beautiful cock worked its will inside me and I loved it with everything I had. I brought my ass up and forward so he could penetrate more deeply. I ran my hands up and down his back, feeling the strength in his shoulders, the smooth skin sloping down past his spine to his ass, which contracted and released as he pumped his pelvis into me. He was, for that moment, for all that, my darling. I became a total woman for him, letting him see me, letting him know me, letting him go into the heart of me. I saw myself, lying wantonly beneath his rippling body, my legs wrapped completely around him, as I fondled his ears and kissed his throat, making deep murmuring sounds into his chest. For a few minutes we were as one, feeling and relating to nothing else but the fires of our own passion, absolutely lost in one another. Then I felt him begin to grow deeply excited and I knew he was about to come. “Do it,” I whispered, “come inside me, give it to me now, fuck it all inside me.”

But at that point, he stopped. He froze his pelvis tight and strangled the sperm welling up through his tube. He lay perfectly still for a moment and then slowly pulled out. All the softness had gone and he was back in costume again. His cock came out hard and tough and there was sense of disappointment and disgust that ran through me. The bastard had been stingy, and wanted to save his load for later. But just then, Roy reached over and put an inhalator in my nose. The sweet fumes of amyl nitrate came rushing into my head, and suddenly a deep, exalted relaxation swept through my body. I sank and wriggled down deeper into the mattress, wanting to be covered, wanting to be touched, wanting to be overpowered. John came forward and knelt by my head, his knees at my shoulders. The cock sang over me, and with a sigh, I reached up to lick it. But he grabbed my hair and held my head back. I whimpered and tried harder to get his cock. He pulled my head back hard to the mattress and slapped me across the face. Suddenly I was inflamed with desire. More than anything I had to have that incredible piece of meat in my mouth. “Please,” I said, “please.” He looked down. “Please what?” he hissed. “Let me have it, let me suck you off, please put it in my mouth,” I moaned. He smiled thinly and bent forward, bringing the cock to my lips. I opened my mouth wide and put my tongue up to lick the tiny slit in the head of his prick. He put all his weight on me, and all of a sudden his cock came rushing into my mouth, hard and fast. I gasped for breath but he didn’t give me a chance. He kept my hair pulled back and began to grind his tool deep into me, bruising my throat. He worked it all over the inside of my mouth, into my cheeks and along the roof of my mouth and again and again past my throat opening and down as far as he could reach into my gullet. I gagged and retched, but he had no mercy.