She makes small sounds and squeezes her eyes tightly shut. Her thighs lock around the invading hand, imprisoning it, unwilling to let it escape.
Behind her, Paul presses the full length of his body against her. She feels his hard cock in the cleft of her buttocks, his thin body against the length of her back. His mouth is on her neck, the back of her neck now, and he is alternately kissing and biting, thrilling her with the sharp touch of his teeth, then the soothing moisture of his mouth. His fingers touch her ribs. She raises her body slightly in response, and his arm slips beneath her chest as his other arm moves over the top of her body. His hands fasten upon her breasts and grip them firmly. He holds the left one as Gregory sucks its tip, grips the right one and works its nipple with his fingers.
Her hips press backward and she feels Paul’s cock like a bar of warm steel against her buttocks. She savors the touch, then thrusts her hips outward and feels the throb of Gregory’s cock against her thigh. Her hands take hold of Gregory’s head, urge him upward, and her mouth finds his. Her tongue probes into his mouth, then withdraws as her own mouth accepts his tongue in turn.
Paul’s cock is the first to enter her. He moves off from her for a moment to anoint himself with K-Y jelly. Then she feels his hands on her buttocks, feels the cool moisture of another dab of jelly on his forefinger as he presses it into her anal opening. His finger works the jelly around the area, then withdraws. His hands clasp her buttocks and draw them apart, and the head of his penis takes the place of his finger and begins the process of intromission.
Several times he stops in answer to her gasps of pain. Her buttocks automatically, instinctively, close themselves to repel the assault, and it is work for her to will the instinct to subside, to will herself to open to him. He enters her half an inch at a time, moving in tiny fits and starts. Finally he is halfway inside her, and suddenly progress is easy; it is as if her anus suddenly relaxes and sucks him inside like a vacuum cleaner, and at once he is in her to the hilt.
They lie joined this way without moving. Throughout, Gregory has been kissing her mouth as he works her pussy with skilled fingers. But now, with Paul snug inside her, she is able to focus her attention on his kisses and his fingering. She feels the fingers move downward, slip behind her, to touch Paul’s cock for a moment. Then they are back in place and he is playing with her as she sucks his tongue.
For only a moment he draws away from her, ending the kiss, losing the contact of his hand upon her loins. He moves down on the bed and presses his mouth to her cunt, the tongue racing over the clitoris, dipping into the moist musk pool, then retreating as he resumes his original position. He kisses her mouth and she tastes her own flavor upon his lips. Then his hands open her legs and she sighs again and his cock, so stiff and hard, so much thicker than Paul’s but its equal in length, slides directly into her cunt. She is hot and wet and open, and in an instant he is all the way within her.
Paul in back and Gregory in front, and each of them in her to the hilt, and neither of them moving. Paul’s hands around her to hold her breasts, Gregory’s mouth on her mouth, and both of them motionless, herself motionless as well, as she savors the sensation of the dual assault of two penises. They are separated only by the thin membrane that separates anus and vagina, and she feels the two of them pressing together and knows they can feel each other through the instrument of her body.
Her flesh begins to sing.
It is Jennifer who first begins to move. A slow, gentle, rocking motion. Forward first, thrusting down on Gregory’s cock, feeling his deeper penetration as she feels Paul’s slight withdrawal from her asshole. Then backward, tasting slight sweet pain as Paul’s cock rams into her ass again while Gregory slips slightly out of her.
She establishes the motion, sets the rhythm. And they pick up their cues from her and meet her thrusts with thrusts of their own.
“All at once,” someone says, as the crises approach. “All come together, all, love, divine—”
But Paul comes first, shooting jets of hot sperm into her asshole, filling her with a sticky salty enema. And before his spasms end it is Gregory’s turn, and her cunt grips him as he comes deep inside her.
And Jennifer follows a split second later, her cunt twitching spasmodically, her asshole rippling like a wheat field in strong wind, her whole body giving of itself and getting for itself as she is caught up in the delicious deathlike magical ecstasy of orgasm.
Bullshit.
All true except the very last.
Jennifer didn’t come.
Loved it. Could hardly have loved it more if she had come. Could hardly have been happier and more fulfilled had she reached that dizzy orgasm.
But let us keep our facts straight.
Jennifer got close. She got hot, she got into it all, as she so often does.
But she didn’t come.
As she so often doesn’t.
What oh what is all of this about? What the value of writing it down?
Why the impulse?
It didn’t get me hot to write about it. Sort of thought it would but it didn’t. Perhaps because I was outside watching, but no sense in that because it is usually being outside watching that does it for me. Perhaps because too conscious of construction, too intent upon the technique of it, the mechanics of writing purposely erotic material.
Don’t know.
Silly, all of this. Vaguely disturbed now by everything set in motion by writing this. And yet feel slightly better for having written it though don’t know how.
Or why.
Funny, all of this. Funny, me. The word person that is ARjenniferLENE.
I don’t think I’ll see Paul and Gregory again for a long time. If ever.
Doubt they need me any more. Doubt I need them. Pleasure — they pleasure me, but I seem to want something beyond pleasure lately. I go seek situations that bring me less pleasure than other situations I have already been a part of. Seeking what’s new to me, even though I doubt it will be that good, rather than what I have already experienced, regardless of how much I have already enjoyed it.
Extending myself?
Partly. More — what? More what?
Don’t know.
Something more than pleasure. Something more than orgasm — have orgasms now and then, one way or another, alone or with help, but orgasm almost incidental. Not what I signed on this cruise for. Something, but what???
27 May — Thursday
Orgies are better in fantasy than fact.
A subjective judgment, this. Obviously. Because if everyone found this to be true, no one would ever participate in large group scenes.
And people do.
But I, in wisdom born of experience, in brittle sexual sophistication, have tested the orgy and found it wanting. So much fun to think about when masturbating and such a surprising down in real life.
Real life?
What the fuck is real life?
Two is nice and three is nice and four is nice and even five is sort of nice, but more than five is a crowd, is a mob scene, is a mess, and you lose track of who is doing what and with which and to whom and none of it matters much.
Even watching isn’t any fun when there’s a whole roomful of people. Just gets boring.
Like watching pornographic pictures for too long, when they’re past the point of being exciting, and all you want to know is how long do you have to stick around before it’s possible for you to go home without being roundly accused of party poopery.
What an appalling discovery — that orgies are a down. Like discovering that there is a Santa Claus, Virginia, and he’s a dirty old man.