He ate her for ages. Ate her while she thrilled to the newness of it, ate her past that point until her body understood it, then went on eating her until her body got out in front of her mind and she was able to respond for what was probably the first time in her life. At one point I knew she was going to make it and my heart thrilled for her. And she did make it, coming with loud cries and much kicking of feet, and I in my closet joined her in a more restrained fashion, coming in sedate silence and moving not at all and still enjoying it every bit as much as she.
While she was still reverberating with it, he sprang up and piled onto her, sank his cock into her, and began screwing away madly. I watched the rise and fall of his buttocks. The camera angle was particularly unfortunate for this scene, as it were; I was so situated that I was looking right up his ass and seeing little else. She cooled off a little and he banged away some more and she heated up and came again with a wall-piercing shriek and he collapsed on top of her.
There was more conversation afterward but I paid hardly any attention to it. Then the shower was running, and then she was putting on clothes and leaving. After the door closed behind her he came over and opened the closet door and grinned down at me.
“Enjoy?”
“Mmm-hmm. Must be an ego trip, making two ladies happy with one cock. Did you mean what you told her?”
“I told her a lot of things. I think I meant most of them. What?”
“That now she would be able to make it with her husband.”
“Oh. Sort of. It would help if she could train him to go down on her, and she’ll probably try. That or scout around for a lover. And she’ll get more of a kick out of playing with him, whether it’s her husband or lover, and she’ll have a better idea of what her body is supposed to do.”
“Good Doctor Bill.”
“Not quite.”
“Oh? I’m not so sure. You know what you are? You’re a sexual therapist.”
“That’s a nice thought.”
“It’s what you are.”
“And instead of fees, I get orgasms.”
“Didn’t get one tonight, though, did you?”
A stare of surprise. “You knew that? How?”
“I was right, wasn’t I? I just knew you didn’t come. I don’t know how I knew.”
“Too much concentration on getting her off, I guess. Too much holding myself in check to let go when the time came, and it didn’t seem right to make her hang around until I got it together. More of an ego trip for Doctor Bill to send her home properly glowing.”
Took his cock in my hand. Long but still limp, but it quivered a little as I handled it. I like the ease I have come to have touching him, my familiarity with his flesh and, through it, with all other flesh.
People still intimidate me, but their bodies are much less the vehicles for intimidation.
“I came good,” I said. “I owe you one. Bad time of the month for certain things, but there are other things, and I think we can work something out.”
“Forward little devil.”
“No. Shy and scared all the time, actually. But not scared of your cock any more. Scared of you in certain secret ways. But not of your cock. I want it in my mouth for awhile, but after that you can come anywhere you want. You can probably think of an interesting place.”
“I can think of several.”
“I was sure you could. Surprise me.”
And afterwards:
“You almost scare me, Jennifer.”
“How?”
“She didn’t know I didn’t come. Christ, it was her body that I didn’t shoot into, and she didn’t notice the difference.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want to mention it.”
“Maybe. But you knew.”
“So I’m psychic.”
Oh, Bill. I was there, Bill. In a way that Mrs. Big Tits wasn’t. I was both of you and felt what each of you was feeling. I almost scare you?
Hell.
I almost scare me.
16 April — Friday
Forgot to check my Post Office box. Think I’m getting a cold. Head stuffy and headachy all afternoon.
Time for an early-to-bed.
17 April — Saturday
Haven’t been out of the house all day. Barely out of bed, just to make tea and toast, water my plant, and make very frequent trips to the toilet. I was going to take sick leave from typing this but decided to make an entry as much out of boredom as anything else.
Suppose I have a fever, but no way to check. No thermometer. Doesn’t seem to matter. I’d act the same way if I knew for certain I had a fever. Do feel dizzy, and the less said about my gastrointestinal system, the better.
18 April — Sunday
Feel worlds better today. One of those twenty-four hour gimmicks, I guess.
I just spoke to the Bored Housewife whose ad I answered a few light years ago. It seems I always get the impulse to call her on nights and weekends, which are precisely the times when her Boring Husband is apt to be home. Decided the hell with it, there’s nothing suspicious about a woman calling another woman, and I called. She answered the phone herself, said her husband was downstairs building a model train. If that’s how he spends Sundays, I know why she’s bored.
Problem is where to meet. I told her I live with my parents so my place is out. Her place is fine, but only during business hours when her husband is away, and those are the hours I work. She suggested maybe we could go to a hotel room or something on a weekday evening. I suppose it’s possible but we didn’t make any plans. Left it open — I’m to think things out, and so will she, and I’ll call her back in a few days and we’ll see how it goes.
I don’t think I’ll bother to call her.
I have a feeling there are letters in my Post Office box. Would have checked yesterday but how? Couldn’t even leave the apartment. And today the place is closed. At least I think it is, and I’m not going all the way over there to check.
I’m sure it’s closed. Maybe the main Post Office is open on Sundays, but the branch stations must be closed.
Nothing more annoying than the certainty there’s a letter for you and no way to get to it.
Took my first pill today. Period just finishing itself up.
I can now fuck with impunity. Or at least without getting pregnant.
19 April — Monday
Eleven letters. Incredible!
20 April — Tuesday
Three more letters in the Post Office box this afternoon, making a total of fourteen. I really didn’t expect this much of a response. I tried to work the ad to make people answer it but I didn’t think that many would be interested. Fourteen of them.
One I’m pretty sure is a fake. It’s supposed to be from a couple that likes to do everything that is in any way sexual, but there’s a tone to the letter that makes me think it was written by a guy who gets a kick out of writing dirty letters. On the one hand it’s wildly obscene and excessively detailed, and on the other hand there’s a lot of nonsense about not sending a photo of the two of them out of fear of exposure. They risk a lot more from the contents of the letter, assuming it to be true, than they could possibly risk with a non-obscene photo. And “they” (I’m sure it’s really just a “he”) go to great lengths asking me to describe just what sort of act I would like them to put on for me, and what acts I have enjoyed watching in the past, and could I please send a naked and preferably obscene picture of myself? No, friend, I could not. Your letter’s a lot of fun, but don’t expect me to reply to it.