His greatest satisfaction came from going down on me for great long periods of time, and usually in front of a mirror. He would sometimes spend an hour down there with his mouth and tongue keeping me in a high state of delirious stimulation. He knew precisely where to hit and how to agitate. I would often become almost numb on my clitoris after he would work on me for an hour.
Arthur's orgasm, if you could call it that, could only come after one of these very long sessions of going down on me. It would be weak, very weak, and accomplished without any erection, but with a great deal of effort, a lot of grunting and groaning. He always paid me a hundred dollars.
It was at the swinging swap parties that I became involved with the real offbeat and perverted practices. I went to these for my own pleasure (or was it torment), or at least there was nothing commercial about it. Bill took me to some, and Cindy introduced me to some men she thought I would like and also to some married couples who ran in the sex party crowd and who liked threesomes.
Joe and Martha Layton were the strangest couple I met during this time, although not necessarily the type that usually attracted me. They intrigued me at first, particularly Joe, because he was the most completely sexual person I had ever met. I wanted to try out everything, to learn about everything, and Joe had once told me at a party, “Baby, there's not anything in this world I haven't done with man, beast or machine.”
Joe was a slim and even fragile looking man of about 35 with very neat hair and neat clothes. He was a neat man all around. Not a handsome man. Not a pansy. Just neat. His face seemed dirty and yet interesting. He had definitely the attractiveness of evil about him.
“I'll bet you've never screwed a mouse,” I smart-talked back to him that first time he was bragging about all that he'd done.
“No, but I screwed a St. Bernard when I was in the Air Force in Germany,” he told me with that dirty laugh of his, the degenerate gleam in his eye as he continued with obvious enjoyment, “Yeah… we was on guard duty at this damn place up in the mountains, this A.C. amp; W. Station. Hell, I used to get that dog in there when my buddy was out, and she loved it right up there. I think that dog had the schnitzel from some of the krauts around there too.”
“Where were all the sexy frauleins?” I asked him curiously, noticing Martha walk up behind him. “I thought you guys always had plenty of women over there.”
“Women… yeah, they were a dime a dozen,” he scoffed. “You could get yourself a little girl 12 or 13 over there for ten bucks. Crap, this was different, gal. You don't many times find a good dog you can screw heh-heh… heh-heh-heh…”
I thought Joe was pulling my leg at first, although there was the dirty look I mentioned that told me he might enjoy the idea, even if he hadn't actually done it. But Martha was even more of an enigma to me at that point. For a swinging wife, she seemed so possessive or jealous of Joe.
Martha was a couple of years older than he, a pretty enough girl with almost no breasts and a real “butch” look. She was cute all right, with her short and straight black hair and a youthful dress and appearance that made her look as young as I did. Because of her small build, she had even been mistaken for a teenager a couple of times.
“How do you live with him?” I asked jokingly when she came up behind us there at the party, “Does he tell you about the St. Bernards he's made when you're in bed at night?”
“Not usually… my dear,” Martha replied very stiffly, eyeing me, looking me over as if she wanted to find some terrible flaw. “No, my dear, he usually regales me with the stories about how many high school boys' asses he's felt that day, or how many nice cocks he's played with. He's going to end up in jail some day and then I can go out and marry me a human being.”
“Shi… yet!” Joe snarled at her, brazenly rubbing the front of his trousers until his penis pressed out in relief against the material. “You think you're some damn saint, baby? Is that why you come to these parties and bird-dog these gals so you can kiss their ass when they go to the bathroom? Damn, you got a hell of a lot of room to talk. Yeah! Yeah, Denise. I ain't kiddin'. You seen her go in the bathroom at the party last week with Eleanor and Ginnie..
“I don't do it with animals or little boys.”
“Oh, hell, honey,” he cooled his temper suddenly, smiled broadly, and threw an arm around Martha. “We're both queer and perverted as hell. That's why we love each other. Say, this party hasn't even started swingin' yet. You ditch that crazy Bill Britten an' come over to our place, huh!”
I could say that I was sure they were kidding about all those things and that was why I went with them. But the real reason was that I was so evilly intrigued by it all, that I went because of the idea that it might just all be true. It was cold that night, and I remember being so disappointed when I saw their apartment-a cheap old place with bleak furnishings in the living room and a veneer bedroom suit in limed oak that was peeling badly.
We had a drink and sat around the bed talking. Joe had only a high school education, had been in the Air Force a number of years, and worked now as an X-Ray technician for the county health department. He used his job as an entree sometimes to seducing young boys and girls when he traveled around to the schools with the mobile-unit.
They had not been kidding. Joe delighted in explaining how he would grasp the children by their hips or buttock to line them up in the front of the machine:
These little gals… hell, with them short skirts they wear, I just reach under and grab their ass and get so damn hot I can cream in my pants, and if there's a kid I think likes for men to play with him, I get him at the end of the line so he'll be in there alone with me, then I tell him it's better if he drops his britches for the X-ray. I mess around a little bit and if it gets hard, I start playin' with it…”
Beside Joe, Martha was a real doll. As I said before, she was a genuinely cute girl. And she also had two years of college and a job as a medical secretary. She was sharp and displayed a great deal of personality as well as an interest and knowledge of so many subjects other than sex. However, Joe had not been lying about her having an array of sexual quirks that, while they did not equal his, certainly tended toward the truly bizarre.
We had advanced to the stage of mutual nudity and feeling and groping around on the bed, when Martha began to open up:
“That party tonight would have been a damn drag, Denise. Most of those people are so square they look at a girl funny if she starts playing with assholes. Last week was so damn much better. Those people were real swingers, and that Ginnie… jee-whizz! You look at her bent over from the rear and you've got something, Denise. I got my middle finger all the way up her butt and she can come when I wiggle it just right. Can you do that, hon? Oh, I'm getting so damn hot, Denise. Tell me when you've got to go…”
I was drinking straight shots of scotch form the bottle. Not the way I usually like to drink, but it was all they offered. Joe was rubbing my clit about then. I was lying on my back listening to them talk, and I was getting very much in the mood for just about anything. Yes, I meant anything. These kind of things were not really to my interest. I never had thought about them before. Yet with the drinks, the dim lights, the two warm bodies, the excited way they talked, it was getting to me.
“You think you could make me come that way?” I turned over to Martha and asked her, my passion building suddenly. “I… I've never had a woman put her finger up there before.”
“Yeah… yeah, baby,” it was Joe who spoke up immediately, helping me to get on my arms and knees, “Come on, Martha. I'll get the vaseline…”
“No, wait,” she told him. “Get back… just watch, honey. Let me do it. Tell me if it hurts, hon.”