"With, eyes still tightly but quiveringly closed, I groped blindly for a pillow. Tears of delirium slithered down my cheeks and occasionally veered toward my gasping lips where the saltiness distantly reminded me of watery come. I found a pillow-horribly mashed but usable anyway.
"I briefly struggled with Lance so that I could get my pounding head on the pillow and whooshed and sighed loudly as if from a hard day's work when I finally managed it. His small and bullet like nipples gouged into the tight skin over my rib cage and I vaguely felt the desperation at being suffocated.
'Lance,' I panted in my fear, 'baby-baby,. I think-oooohh, mmmmm… I think you're crushing me!' "He lifted a bit on trembling and sticky arms, not once releasing my tit from the hot sucking confines of his thirsty mouth. I ran my fingers through his moist and tangled, almost-white, sun-bleached curls and purred softly… to everyone in the room.
"His shaft was getting proudly harder and poking more painfully into the side of my rib cage. I managed to squeeze an arm under him and coil my fingers around the stalky rod possessively and assuringly. His hips slammed down at my touch and I felt as if I'd been mortally speared.
"Like a madman, Lance pounded his cock into my hip and raced his sucking mouth and groping fingers from one tit to the other. I tried to guide him with my hand but it was useless so I just let it ride kind of piggyback on his violently bobbing head.
"I had more breathing room now and I found my hips thrusting upward rhythmically into Dawn's face. I could tell that Terry was pounding himself into her just a bit harder because her face pushed into my slit and bumped against it. I tried to spread my legs wider to give her more room, but I was pretty much pinned down.
"Terry was muttering almost drunkenly to himself. 'Nothing like a tight-fitting asshole! Come, baby, suck my prick with it! Milk me, woman! Feel my rod setting fire to your assssssss!' "Dawn's fingers clawed desperately at what part of me wasn't covered by Lance.
I felt her whole mouth greedily smashed down on my snatch and moving in faster and harder circles all over it. Lance held my fingers tightly coiled around his cock and pounded his meat as best he could with my hand. It was uncomfortable, I guess, for both of us and I could feel Lance's desperation to blow his nuts into something, anything, but a hole!
"My cheeks hollowed and pitted as I violently sucked in, trying to get some saliva in my mouth before I'd feel like it was full of sand. I sucked and sucked-almost getting the crazy feeling that I was sucking the brains down from my spinning head-and finally felt it filling up with cool saliva from somewhere. It would come now. I knew it would…
"I managed to push Lance's sweaty face away and breathlessly whispered into his ear. 'Honey, ooooohh, honey, my mouth! Put it all in my mouth!' "It seemed like he hadn't heard me because he directed his head toward another and renewed attack on my tit. I grabbed a thick handful of wet hair and jerked his head away. I was getting maddeningly violent as I angrily hissed at him, 'Straddle my face, baby! I need to taste you!' "I saw his crazy kind of grin, blurred and fuzzed in my panicky stupor, and then heaved a sigh of relief as he moved off my all but suffocated body and positioned himself over my already gasping and flushed face.
"He faced the wall behind my head and slowly, gently, eased himself down. I held the round lumps of his balanced ass cheeks in my sweaty hands and helped him. Slowly he aimed his rigid cock at my gasping mouth and, without any effort, slid the entire length of it along the sensitive surface of my barely moistened tongue. I sucked hard again…
This first Chapter, narrated by a twenty-one-year-old mulatto girl, seems a case in point when attempting to demonstrate Theodor Reik's expressed theory in The Need To Be Loved: … Psychology and biology are still occupied with solving the problem of love. It seems to me that the problem of sexual attraction, which is independent from that of love, is more urgent and deserves more of our attention. Those electric affinities of which Goethe speaks in his novel are much more intimately connected with sensuality than with affection or tenderness. We psychoanalysts should be more interested in the question of what makes a person desire a member of the opposite sex than in what makes him love her. This desired individual is often not 'loved at all, but often even detested and despised. Nevertheless he or she is sexually, irresistible and his or her power over the other person is all-consuming and imperative.
Desire, not tender affection, often governs the vicissitudes of male and female relationships. The ruling force is not that which according to the poet moves the sun and the planets, but the much more profane passion that causes the blood to coalesce in the genitals.
Indeed, here is one of the still inexplicable and flagrant contradictions of human nature. What is it that gives the desired person that power, that awakens his or her image even during sexual intercourse with another person? Is it something biochemical, is it some quality of the skin, or is it a memory, which, after many years, is still much more capable of arousing sexually than that of another woman with whom the man has had sexual intercourse a few hours ago. It can happen that this actual sexual intercourse whets the appetite for the other person-if it does this at all-but it never satisfies this longing.
Once aroused, such desire can be appeased and gratified only by this other person. The "femme fatale" is not the woman who is loved, but the one who is sexually desired.
It is as if the flesh has memories as well as the mind, and as if those carnal desires push every other consideration into the background. Here, perhaps, is the decisive reason for the (relative) fidelity of women. The man who first gratified her sexual desires left an indelible imprint in her heart. In her heart, did I say? No, in. her blood…
The above, quotation is demonstrative of a basic emotion which appears to lie just beyond the gauzy curtain of spouse-swapping. It is this desire which brings couples together for stimulation.
We notice even within this Chapter the great deal of touching and looking prior to enjoyment of the sexual acts in and of themselves. This serves to further solidify Reik's theory of the difference between lust and love as it were.
Swapping groups can be tailored to fit individual needs-i.e. business and professional, casual, back-to-earth groups, etc. They are not necessarily formalized and structured as in a regular club and the syndrome often exists without one or the other party being aware that there is such a fraternity/sorority membership in existence and outside of the couple's own stylized lifestyle.
Female homosexuality appears to be the most common side-involvement in mate-swapping. It has been said by some that this activity provides the necessary release for the females while allowing the males ample time to rest and recharge their waning energies. Whatever the theory, it is not an uncommon behavior pattern.
The desire to taste the male sperm as issued from another woman's vagina is also not uncommon. Many women have found that it not only excites the passive female but it also induces an additional bit of voyeurism into the male's life and sense of mood as he watches not dispassionately. Many men as well consider this action a tribute to their masculinity.
In this Chapter, however, we find male as well as female homosexuality.
Although said to be rather uncommon, it is not completely erasable from mind.
Bisexual swapping, it has been said, also has structured forms and clubs, although many readers will agree that not all the bisexual mate swaps go on within exclusive walls.