The Tao of Lex

Posted by Lex Konrad in Sex | Aug 03, 2005

Who understands does not preach;
Who preaches does not understand.

I enter Eden around midnight, squinting in the subdued light and scanning the bar for signs of a familiar face. My girlfriend’s pretty brown eyes meet my own. When I sidle up to her she pulls me in for a deep kiss.

“So where’s your date?” I ask.

“In the bathroom. She’ll be back soon.”

The girl—Asian, diminutive, clad in stiletto heels, fancy booty pants and a dark, ruffled blouse—materializes at my side. Leslie introduces us. It’s odd, sometimes, to shake the hand of someone you’ll most possibly probably be fucking within a few hours, to make such a formal show of things. Cara tells me she recently relocated from the Philippines, which doesn’t surprise me at all. Aside from her accent, there’s a darkness and softness to her features that can only have originated below the Tropic of Cancer. Les leaves us and we talk for awhile about nothing more controversial than work and the weather.

“So? Are you two getting along?” Les asks me later.

I’m frowning into my gin and tonic. “Yeah, sure. She’s from Manila, like the folders.”

“You didn’t say that to her, did you?”

“Of course not.” I chuckle. “You know, I’ve never had a Filipina—”

“Yeah, anyway, Emma’s coming out to meet us.”

“Ah, cool.” I wonder aloud whether there will be any jumping of the bones involved. I step outside for a smoke and soon I’m eyeing a woman in a white top and rhinestone-studded jeans, half a block away and closing fast. “She’s cute,” I mumble to myself.

“Lex!”

“Wha?” I now realize the woman I’m ogling is Emma. “Oh, hey. It’s you. Jesus, I must be going blind… I thought you were some other chick.” She hugs me and we catch up, deciding after a moment to take the conversation inside.

“Are you interested in meeting Bret Easton Ellis? He’s got a new book out.”

“Will there be an after-party?”

“Who knows?”

“Well, it probably wouldn’t be as, um, visually stimulating as Larry Flynt’s soiree.” In my peripheral vision I spy Les and Cara, their faces now pressed together. I cock my head in their direction. “Looks like trouble,” I announce.

Emma laughs. “So I’ve been seeing someone, sort of.”

“Didn’t you mention that last time we were out?”

“Perhaps. The thing is, he’s nice and all but he’s a little boring.”

“Emma, you’re hopelessly addicted to bad boys; sure, you come across as a nice girl, but deep down you crave sexual adventure. I’m grinning now. “But hey, they can’t all be me right?”

“They can’t all be as modest as you are, you mean.”

“I’m buzzed,” Cara’s telling me. I’d managed to slip in next to her after she and Les had uncoupled. “Actually I’m glad you showed up when you did… this annoying guy wouldn’t stop hitting on us. I told him where I’m from and he said ‘Oh, you speak English so well.’” She giggles. “We grow up speaking English.”

“Ha ha. Classic.” If you’re going to tread in international waters you’d better understand the currents.

Emma suggests another venue and soon we’re on our way, Cara and Emma walking arm-in-arm as Leslie trails behind them chatting up a pair of young Latinas. Our entourage is growing. Cara is a little unsteady on her feet. “Well, I can see why you’re buzzed,” I say, eyeing her body. “Where do you put all that booze?”

“I don’t know,” she says.

“Guess I’ll find out soon enough.” I mutter this under my breath as if I’m channeling Robert Guillaume from Benson, that beloved 80’s sitcom. Emma bursts out laughing and I reach over to chuck her under the chin. The Latinas catch up to us. Les wraps her arm around the chesty one. “Hey Cara, you better keep an eye on your date,” I warn.

When we reach our destination, a cozy little lounge two doors down from Sip, we claim a bank of seats. Les and Cara cuddle together but eventually Cara leans back and closes her eyes. I stroke Cara’s shoulder and ask whether she’s okay. She doesn’t respond. “She’s wasted,” Les informs me. “I’m going to get her some water but we’re probably going to have to put her to bed soon.” Somehow this revelation doesn’t faze me at all.

The Latinas, suddenly intrigued by my little harem, pepper me with questions. “Is she okay?” Oh yes. Just drunk is all. “Are you and Leslie friends?” Ha ha, more than that. “What about Emma?” Oh well, you see, we all play together sometimes. And so on. I begin to feel as if I’m holding court.

“Look ladies, I don’t know why any of this stuff happens to me—” as I’m saying this I feel Cara’s hand slide down the back of my pants. I glance over my shoulder and see that her eyes are still closed. “—uh, sorry, I’m being molested here—so I don’t know why any of this happens, but the less I try to make it happen the more it happens. I used to read the Tao Te Ching and now I think I finally understand it. By the way, my name’s Lex.”

They are both cute but I much prefer the tall, dark, chesty one. Her name is Maria.

Soon Leslie tells me it’s time to go. Emma’s disappointed. “But you haven’t met Chanel yet,” she protests, and thrusts before me a pretty, exotic-looking woman of indeterminate ethnicity. “Charmed,” I say, taking the woman’s hand and kissing it. “Oh my,” she sez. “I promise I’ll come back on a less hectic night and we’ll get acquainted,” I say. And so I set down my unfinished beer and hug Emma (“We’ll hang out next week,” I insist) and get Maria’s number (“Promise you’ll call,” she pleads) and stumble out to hail a cab. My head’s spinning but this has nothing to do with the booze.

“I’m sorry,” Cara’s saying. “I’m sorry.” She’s leaning out the window and puking against the side of the cab as we drift along 110th. Leslie holds Cara’s jet-black hair. I’m in a rare mood, neither disappointed nor disgusted, ready to accept whatever transpires next. When the cabbie drops us off I hand him extra money. “Sorry man,” I call over my shoulder as I head towards our building. “Life’s a bitch and then you die.” When we get inside Leslie runs the shower for our guest. Cara accidentally pulls the knob out and I—being the only person in the house with a penis—am called upon to replace it. When I get in there Cara’s huddled on the floor of the tub, her nude form obscured by the blurry folds of the plastic shower curtain. I perform my duty without looking at her.

After her shower Cara collapses on our bed in Leslie’s pink bathrobe. My cell phone buzzes with a text message. “Are you in?” it reads—one of Emma’s dirty jokes. I call her and apologize for having left so abruptly. After I hang up Leslie asks me how I’m doing. “Well, I’m not going to have any sex tonight and a girl I’ve spent maybe half an hour talking to is passed out diagonally on our bed and, hell, I didn’t want to go home this early, but in all honesty I don’t give a damn at this point. You go in there and make sure she’s alright. I’m gonna watch Adult Swim and crash on the couch.”

“Come into the bedroom and take off your pants, bitch!” Les snarls comically.

“No way! She’s sleeping in there. Are you drunk too?”

“We’ll just make some space on the bed.”

“Whatever.” I reach for the remote but Les grabs it first, then lunges for my belt buckle. I try to run away but my corduroys have fallen around my ankles and I’m not getting very far. We’re both giggling. Now she’s pushing me into the bedroom. “Careful… if I fall over my dick’s gonna break in two.” She finishes undressing me and knocks me onto the bed, dropping to her knees to take me into her mouth. My protests cease. She hops up onto the bed, positioning herself on her side next to Cara, and begs me to fuck her, leaving me no option other than to prop myself over Cara’s prone body at about ass level.

As I slide into Leslie I feel Cara stir. “Her foot’s rubbing me,” Leslie says. Cara’s ass, hidden under the bathrobe, begins to slowly, subtly undulate. I tentatively place a hand there. Her movements intensify. I run a hand under the bathrobe, then up her thigh, letting my fingers settle within the smooth furrow of her buttocks. She moans. I dip an index finger, slowly, into Cara. She backs into my hand, leaving my finger hot and wet. Taking this as a cue, I draw the bathrobe above her waist and watch, slack-jawed, as she lifts her sweet little ass to my face. I lick her everywhere, pausing now and then to cast lusty glances at Leslie, my girlfriend’s quim slick against my churning cock, our playmate’s quim salty against my roaming tongue.

“I think she wants to get fucked, Lex.” Les brushes a few errant strands of hair from Cara’s face. “How about it Cara? Do you want some penis inside you?”

The girl is breathless. “Mmmm yeah.”

Sandwiched between us and impaled on the end of my cock, Cara writhes, playing the slippery eel or the bucking bronco. When I inevitably slip out I bury my face in her cunt, teasing her, and then reinsert myself. Her ass is so small that I seem monstrously large in comparison, like I’m filling the girl up. She flips onto her back and turns around, her head dangling over the edge of the bed, and in this position she receives the attentions of Leslie’s expert tongue. I trap Cara’s brown nipples, one by one, between my lips and gently pull: they’re elastic like gummi bears left in the sun. Cara jerks me furiously, inching her face slightly upward to have a taste of me.

Only now, as I explore Cara’s taut body, am I, like, coming up to speed on some relevant information. “Careful with her belly button ring,” Les warns. “It’s new.”

Didn’t know that.

“I’ve only been with two guys,” Cara interjects at some point.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Twenty-eight. I got a late start.”

Oh. Nice to meet you. By the way, my name is Lex. “I guess you’re making up for lost time then.”

I jump onto the bed and my hand settles between Cara’s legs, just below her neat landing strip of dark pubic hair. “I haven’t come in the longest time,” she’s telling us.

Leslie detaches from Cara’s nipple. “How do you like to get off?” she purrs.

Upon hearing Cara’s answer I take up a fortified position between her legs, sticking a couple fingers in her cunt and licking and kissing and sucking. She seems to like pressure so I lean into her. She rewards my efforts with heightening moans, the classic oh oh OH! Her pelvis lifts off the bed and she traps my neck between her thighs, praying mantis style. I sense the rising blood pressure in my cranium and wonder, briefly, whether her first two lovers died this way. When Cara’s journey to nowhere finally concludes she thrusts against my tongue. Her ass crashes to the mattress. I come up for air, smiling and very much relieved. “That’s a good girl,” I say.

I enter my girlfriend from behind as she straddles Cara’s face. We get a good rhythm going and Cara’s tongue alternates between us. Yes, that’s a good girl alright. It tickles a bit so I laugh. I feel my climax coming on, predictable and perfect every time inside my woman. Ladies first, and when Leslie’s spasms subside I uncouple from her and unleash a torrent upon Cara’s chest, much to our guest’s delight. Kitty cat Leslie laps our playmate clean and then kisses her as I simply sit and watch…

The next morning the three of us are utterly useless. The girls rise one by one only to return to bed a short while later. I wake intermittently to hold my morning wood against Cara’s ass, or else let my hands wander the length of her, then roll over and do the same to Leslie. At some point well after noon I summon the energy to get up. I put on music and do the dishes while Leslie and Cara lounge together on the couch. It’s not until late afternoon that our guest leaves, and when she walks out she does so with a smile upon her face.

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