capability for bi-sexuality. I realized that my admiration of a nicely shaped female body was not altogether esthetic. The first time I went down on a man's wife, I was drunk and I loved it. The next time, I was sober, and I loved it more.
I became involved in what was almost a real love affair with one of the most beautiful girls in this city, Cindy Warwick. Cindy was 24 when I first met her, a full-time call girl who catered to afternoon and early evening rendezvous with some of the richest men in town and from out of town. I suppose one reason I was so intensely attracted to Cindy was that she also led a very strange double life.
Cindy had two darling children and a nice home with a wonderful old woman for a housekeeper. She was a perfect mother, absolutely wonderful with her children. To them and the neighbors, she was a professional freelance writer with an office downtown. The “office” consisted of a lovely one-bedroom apartment where she entertained men for up to a hundred dollars an hour.
It was easy to see how she could command such fees. Cindy was tall, blonde and beautiful. Her figure measured 38-26-38. She loved sex in such a natural and affectionate way with either a man or a woman that there was nothing ever dirty about it with her. She loved everyone, she loved people, and sex was a part of love. I envied her greatly.
I think she fell in love with me about the second time I ever saw her. We had put on a show for this big advertising executive from New York whom Bill had sent over to Cindy's. He had told her he would pay two hundred dollars to watch her go down on a girl. She called me, and we went through the whole business for him. When he left, Cindy looked at me with the sweetest and most touching expression I had ever seen on another girl's face.
“Denise…,” she said, smiling so sweetly as she pushed aside her long blonde hair and sat back down on the bed beside me, “I want to do it for love now… can I?”
I was overwhelmed-that is the only way I can describe it. I opened my legs for her and held her head right between them and I began to have wonderful, wonderful orgasms when I felt her wonderful, soft tongue licking every spot just right, her lips caressing and sucking.
We saw each other quite often after that. It was never involved. We never professed a serious or deep love until much later. But there was more there than merely the superficial aspects of the sexual relationship. We have remained very close to each other.
The fact is that I never became close to anyone during that first four years of my life as a teacher and part- time professional. I lived a full sex life and a full life in my work. The bizarre and unusual became so routine that I suppose I was ripe for some sort of a change when Bob came along.
And when I think of the over-all aspects of the strange mother and daughter element that ran as an undercurrent and more during the next four years, I often wonder if it began when I met Bill in the library and became a wanton, or when I met Bob at a party one night and almost let him take over both my daughter and myself?
Chapter Two
The first time I ever saw Bob he was stripped naked and having sex relations with a 19-year-old blonde at a swap party. I had gone to the party with Bill, but most of the other couples there were married. When Bill and I arrived about 9:30, the group had formed a circle in the living room and were all watching Bob with this girl.
She was a newcomer to the crowd, the wife of a young man who worked as a salesman for the company headed by the host of that particular party. They had played some sort of game to determine whom she should swap with first, and the rules were that she must be initiated in front of everyone.
Bob Morgan was not a conventionally good-looking man. He was 45, a little fat and with graying hair cut very short in a military style. His face was rugged and very virile, with several scars or cuts still showing. He was a retired colonel who had worked in very clandestine military intelligence operations and he was somehow still involved with quite secret work that required him to just “disappear” for weeks or months at a time.
Of course, I did not know all of this as I perched on the edge of a chair and allowed the host to agitate my clitoris with his fingers while we all watched the performance entranced. All I knew was that I had never before seen a man who so compelled me to watch him. The novelty of watching and being watched in sexual acts had long ago worn off. I still enjoyed it immensely, but never to this extent.
The blonde girl was lying on her back on a mat, her legs wrapped up around Bob's back as he hovered over her, his long penis penetrating her in the most beautifully timed and rhythmic strokes I had ever seen. It was so obvious that he was controlling the entire thing. The girl was his slave, her body and emotions reacting to his direction as music from a trained orchestra reacts to the director's baton.
I had never in my life seen a man capable of such a cool and controlled performance with a completely new girl under pressure like this. The girl was a darling, her figure perfect and youthful, yet I watched the eyes of the others in the room and discovered that they too were following each move that Bob made, while the girl's movements and occasional outcries of “Faster! Faster!” were all but ignored.
I empathized strongly with her, knowing the feelings she must be experiencing. Bob was playing with her, teasing her with his slow and measured strokes, denying her the speed-up so that she could reach her climax. She was such a young girl, probably incapable of multiple climaxes, but Bob was endearing himself to her by his very denial.
Yet his control over her was so complete that she could not hurry the process herself. As our host continued to finger me to climax, I felt irresistibly drawn to this man. I stood up and began to undress. Nobody noticed except our host and that was because he had to move to keep his fingers working on me.
When I was nude, I walked out to join Bob and the girl in a way that I had done many times at parties. I lay with my head just against her buttocks so that I could bring my lips and mouth into contact with their union. My whole body was aflame.
“Get her out! Dammit… get her out of the way!” Bob screamed angrily, while he never missed a stroke, never made a move of his body or limbs that was not directly concerned with what he was doing.
“He's a funny one,” our host whispered to me as he helped me up from the floor, my feelings shattered, “That's Bob Morgan. Quite a guy though. He's here with Suzy tonight… just got back from some super-secret job in Viet Nam.
And that was when I learned all about Bob Morgan, from my host, a man whose name I can't even remember, while I continued to watch the spectacle in front of me. Bob began to go faster now and the blonde became flooded with ecstatic wriggles, twists and a frantic pumping motion of her body. When their mutual climax came a few moments later, it was almost possible to see her inner muscles working on him. With each outward stroke, he seemed to bring part of her insides out with him. I don't think anyone there had ever seen anything like it before.
Into the evening and through the small morning hours, things broke up into small groups, twosomes, threesomes and so forth. I desperately wanted to connect with Bob, but he always was occupied by one or two other women, and usually off in a bedroom with them. As for myself, I was certainly not bored. Our host went down on me for a solid half hour, and then I was taken by two men from California who were visiting.
Eleanor, the host's wife, introduced me to a new girl from Texas who was bi, and the two of us went into a bedroom for a session, and then were joined by her husband and Luke. I think it must have been almost daylight when I had gone to take a douche in the small bathroom off the foyer, that I got a chance to see Bob again.
It certainly wasn't a romantic setting, but then swingers are used to anything. He walked right in on me as I sat there douching. I was surprised, but not shocked. I could meet him on his own terms. If he was bizarre enough to stay there after he came in, I was weird enough to go right ahead with what I was doing.
“How nice. I had hoped to have the opportunity to talk with you privately,” Bob commented, looking me over very straightforwardly, even stepping back to get a good look between my legs. “I must apologize for upsetting you when you had the urge to join us last evening, but you must realize that the concentration I had to use precluded a trio. You almost ruined the whole business.”
