Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Mar 31, 2004
And I open my eyes again only to receive the throbbing of a palesick dawn. I glance at the clock and it confirms that I’m up way too fucking early. There’ll be no chance of slipping off for a few more winks—I’m famished yet my stomach quakes from nausea. Something’s terribly wrong, and I fear it has nothing to do with the three cocktails I had. Must’ve been something I ate. What then? Pussy? I have a painful hardon and I’m in no condition to do anything about it.
I prop myself up on the pillow and survey the remains of the night. Leslie’s here next to me and then… nothing. A girl-sized void.
Leslie stirs. It takes me awhile to get my mouth moving. “Where is she?”
“Wha? I dunno.”
“Well go find her. I can’t get up.”
Leslie disappears. I hear two female voices coming from the living room. Les returns and informs me Susan tried to leave early to put in some overtime at work, but couldn’t find half her shit and so fell asleep on the couch. Doesn’t really add up. Something tells me we won’t be seeing her again.
Susan’s on her way out. I clench my jaw and rise from my sickbed, just to get a final glimpse. I hug something that looks and feels and smells vaguely like Susan, but I can’t be sure. Standing no longer seems like a very good idea.
Leslie, thinking I am merely hung-over, teases me mercilessly. She finds Susan’s g-string lying about and rubs it in my face. I groan. Les leaves for mentoring.
There’s no juice in the house, and at any rate I’d never make it to the fridge. I’d give my left nut for a glass of something cold and sweet. Can’t sleep. The heaves come on suddenly and the cat’s eyeing me as if to say who’s got the hairball now, fucker?
By late afternoon I find myself able to stand on weak legs. Leslie’s out with Nova. I go out to grab a breakfast sandwich and a Mountain Dew.
By the time the girls arrive I’m feeling slightly better. Nova presses her massive knockers to my face, promising to nurse me back to health. I should be sick more often.
“She’s hotter than I am… and skinnier than I am,” Nova sighs after seeing a few pictures of Susan.
“Don’t be ridiculous Nova,” I chide. “Your tits alone are enough to make a grown man cry.” And then there’s the belly dancing. No, can’t beat that.
The girls begin to fool around. I undress, disappear into the shower and soak under the hot stream for a good half hour.
I watch Leslie lap at Nova’s pretty puss as I towel off. My knees buckle onto the bed and I inch myself into Nova’s mouth. I assist Leslie with her task, flicking my tongue across Nova’s clitoris as Les fucks her with a couple fingers. And there’s that soft wet noise that cunts make. Still a little weak, I lie down next to them as Leslie brings Nova to a noisy climax.
“It’s your turn,” Nova announces.
“What about Leslie?”
“She already got me off while you were in the shower,” says Les.
They take me into their mouths. I’m pinned under their darting tongues. Leslie’s hoovering me now, pretty ass jutting skyward. It’s too much. “Point me at her tits,” I manage to yelp. Leslie pumps me all over Nova’s chest.
They got hula hoops at Ding Dongs. They got Ms. Pac Man—the two-player, sit-down kind. They got punk music. They got guitar stems for beer taps. They got dingy wooden tables. My girls play with the hula hoops and all I can do is sit there taking measured sips of my Corona and trying to muster up approving nods.
Emma arrives. We’ve fallen into the comfortable rapport of people who’ve fucked each other and dealt with the consequences. I show her the thong I’m wearing, the one Nova bought for me. Emma pokes at my ass with frigid fingers. She doesn’t understand what she’s supposed to be looking at. Finally she yanks at the fabric, wedging the garment even further up my crack, and I nearly leap out of my seat. Thongs no longer seem like a very good idea.
We’re in the Badlands now. The news clipping affixed to the plate glass window tells me so. “Local Bar Saves a Neighborhood,” the headline reads. Anything can happen up here in the Badlands.
I peer over Emma’s shoulder and see a girl hula hooping, the millimetric thrusts of her firm bottom forcing the hoop to levitate at waist level, as if by the machinations of hover technology that we really ought to have now that we’re four years past the millennium.
“Check that out,” I say. Minutes later the girl takes a seat next to me. She smells of perfume and vodka.
“I was mesmerized by your hula dance,” I say. “Funny how such a subtle motion can produce so much action.”
Someone calls attention to her cleavage and she invites us to look at it. She cups her milk-white breasts and leans into me a bit. But I can’t handle this—not tonight—and I try to ignore her.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she teases.
“I’m not myself tonight.”
“You don’t seem that interesting to me, but there must be something special about you with all these women hanging all over you.” She smiles and glances at my crotch. “So what’s your secret?”
Not giving a shit, perhaps. “The secret is… there is no secret.”
“Mind if I go find your girlfriends?”
I feel like a pimp—as if she’s expecting me to make her kiss my giant gold ring. “You don’t need my permission.”
And she flits away. And Les and Nova return with the tale of a three-way romp in the bathroom. They feel bad that I wasn’t included. I tell them I wouldn’t have been up for it anyway.
Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Mar 16, 2004
It’s nine o’clock in the PM and I’m doing the dishes, lost in some internal monologue. I haven’t slept much but I tell myself I’ll catch up tonight. There’s a monster in me and I’m trying to put it to rest. It lives in my head or up my ass or perched atop my cock or wherever it is that personal demons live. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror reveals the toll of a late night spent hunched over my desk. I need some air. I need to fill my sunken eyes with life again.
Leslie’s out on a date. She calls again, asking me if I want to come out.
“Is she hot?” I ask out of reflex.
“Yeah, she’s hot,” Les answers brightly, alcohol dragging out her syllables.
“Did you give her the memo?”
“She understands our situation.”
“Is Nova coming out?”
“She’s in Brooklyn.”
Just a drink or two. Socialize a bit. I tell myself it will be a quiet night this time, that I’m most definitely probably possibly not going to fuck this girl. I shower but I don’t shave my nuts, thinking this will serve as a final line of defense. Who am I kidding? It’s the Maginot Line of virtue. As I lace up my shoes a surge of lust hits me like sudden indigestion. Where’d that come from? It’s not so bad out so I opt to traverse the north end of the park on foot. The lake reminds me of the dead guy. Speed-walking now. My heart thumps.
And it drops when I see her. Susan the willowy brunette—pretty face, pert breasts teasing me from behind the frame of her plunging neckline. Hot alright. A little fragile and sweet. It’ll be like filling her up. Wonder how she looks with that top off? I say hello to the ladies and walk over to the bar to buy a round.
The bartender smiles at me. “You always show up with beautiful women,” she says.
“We make a great team,” I say, nodding in Leslie’s direction.
I return to the table bearing drinks. The girls talk about dicks.
“It has to be a certain size otherwise it just doesn’t do it for me,” Susan says.
“Good grief!” I interject. “We’re already talking about cock?”
“Don’t worry,” admonishes Leslie. “I told her you have a really nice one.”
Susan looks down. I nearly blush. Leslie removes a sticker from its backing and places it over the creamy skin of Susan’s right tit. “I’M A BIG DOG,” the sticker reads. Les heads for the bathroom. I study Susan’s face and practice holding eye contact. Her features are sharp, small, a tad doll-like. She tells me she’s part Irish, Italian and Cherokee. I can almost see it.
She broke up with her boyfriend a few months back and now wants to meet girls for fun. Strictly no strings attached, as they say. One could say this is crass but Susan comes across as charming and intelligent. I sometimes wonder about this kind of bravado though: isn’t there middle ground between the zipless fuck and the all-consuming quest for the One? I think of Nova and feel a little guilty. It’s been two months and we haven’t yet established any rules. At least we’re honest with each other.
“The girls my ex and I were with seemed more interested in him than me,” Susan’s telling me. “I got tired of that.”
“Well, Les is most definitely bi.”
Susan goes all dreamy. “Oh god, she’s so hot. I want to feel her hands all over me.” She casts her eyes downward again, straight hair framing her delicate lines. “Do you think Leslie’s into me?”
“No. She told me earlier she thinks of you as a friend.”
“Are you serious?”
I chuckle. “No, I’m fucking with you.”
“So you don’t mind if I have a purely sexual relationship with your girlfriend?”
I wonder whether her scenario includes me. I don’t ask.
Leslie and I stand outside smoking. I tell her about my conversation with Susan. “I’m not sure about her though,” I conclude.
“You don’t like her?”
“No, no, it’s not that. She’s nice and everything. I’m just not sure she’s into me.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
“And there’s our girlfriend.”
“I know. I’ve been talking about her all night. I’d like to introduce the two of them.”
“Well, this is different I suppose. We don’t need another girlfriend but variety is nice, just mixing it up every once in a while. Maybe the four of us can play together.”
“That would be quite a party. Who knows? Susan seems up for anything.”
We leave our table behind and hang out by the bar so as to really have at the sauce. Les introduces me to a winsome blonde but I’m not really following the conversation. I glance over my shoulder and see that Susan’s being chatted up by an older gentleman in a suit. He has his arm around her. This, I decide, is a capital offense.
“Guess I’ll go over and shut him down,” I say, smiling wickedly.
Susan turns to me. She wants to be rescued… I can read the subtle pleading in her eyes. She spills a tiny amount of the drink the Fool bought for her.
“We need to get you out of those wet clothes,” I say, and stroke her back lightly.
“That line works for you?” the Fool asks.
“Oh yes—all the time,” I say, adopting a facetious tone. “I usually deliver it a bit differently, however.”
“Show me,” coos Susan.
“Well, first I place a drop of my drink on her, like this.” I dip my index finger into a glass of ice water and press a drop into Susan’s blouse.
“Then I lean in real close, like this.” I invade Susan’s personal space, my lips centimeters from her ear. I exhale slowly and slip my arm around her waist. “See? She’s showing me the nape of her neck. That means she trusts me. Now let’s get you out of those wet clothes, baby.”
Susan grins. “Mmm… you’re smooth.”
“I’m too old for all that nonsense,” the Fool responds indignantly. “I’d rather be direct.”
“I simply enjoy making women feel sexy. You, my friend, are way too octopus-like and obvious. You either can’t read her body language or else you don’t care (and that’s even worse). Hell, I’ve forgotten more about picking up women than guys like you will ever know.”
The Fool has a smile plastered on his face. He doesn’t yet realize he’s done my work for me, driven Susan into my own octopus embrace. “I should be taking notes,” he says.
“I’ll keep my arm around you,” I whisper to Susan. “That’ll do the trick. Your hair smells wonderful, by the way.”
Soon the nymphs are leaning over me and kissing, forming an arch as I sit between them. I grasp an ass firmly in each palm. There is no urgency in their lips, their tongues. It’s not exactly lust I feel but warmth, like I’m sitting on the beach in Tulum and sipping a cocktail.
Back at the apartment the women don’t waste any time. The panties fly off and Susan’s flicking her tongue across Leslie’s muff. Susan bends over the couch now, a tiny tattoo visible on her right ass cheek. I pound her inviting cunt with a couple fingers. I smack a tight buttock and it jiggles. Susan moans.
“I want to taste you,” I say to Susan. She smiles. She lies back on the couch and I lose myself in the folds of her hairless pussy. I sneak a peek at her face, now twisted in pleasure. Her hip bones protrude. She grabs my head and grinds against me. She mumbles incoherently and it dawns on me that she’s coming.
We’re in the bedroom and I’m fucking Leslie from behind as Susan grabs at Leslie’s gorgeous rump. I slip out of Leslie and Susan takes me into her mouth, jerking my shaft as she licks me clean. “Is this thing big enough for you?” I ask, smiling and gently tugging at her hair.
I push into Susan as she lies on her back, filling her up, fulfilling the evening’s prophesy. It’s a slippery slope up there—I’m committed now. I gently brush the hair from Susan’s sweaty brow. I flip her over and push a thumb against her asshole as my pelvis smacks against her. She’s breathless. I order her to bury her face in Leslie’s pussy. “God you’re going to make me come again,” Susan purrs. And then she’s lying there, spent, a little air escaping her cunt.
I clamber atop Leslie and brush my lips against hers as I thrust into her. The heat inside her is simply too much and soon we’re both gasping, releasing into our tight embrace.
Susan’s already sleeping. Leslie’s drifting off. I stumble into the living room to smoke a cigarette. I pop in a Steely Dan album.
well I should know by now
that it’s just a spasm
like a Sunday in T.J.,
that it’s cheap but it’s not free,
that I’m not what I used to be,
and that love’s not a game for three
I stand by the bed for a minute and watch the girls sleep. I crawl under the covers and close my eyes.
