my ass.'
'Well, I thought you'd be interested.'
'I am interested, but only in so far as I'm interested in what becomes of you. I think you re pretty damned foolish to waste your time on Jan.'
'I enjoy it, Rome. Jan is very good in bed.'
'So am I, damn it,' he said.
'I know, but-'
'But what? I told you what your problem was. You're hung up on Jan because you never developed a proper sex life with men. That's all. If you'd been fucked a few times in your youth, and if you'd been lucky enough to enjoy it, you wouldn't be doing the lesbian routine today.'
'That's simplistic.'
Romo shrugged again. 'It's true.'
'Romo…'
'Yes?'
'I slept with Jan because I wanted to.'
Romo laughed at the shrillness of her insistence that it was sex, not a desire to refute his theory, that had led her to make it with Jan.
'What's so funny?' Lisa asked suspiciously.
'You're so transparent.'
'What do you mean, transparent?'
'Your like a goddamn window pane. One little squirt of Windex and I can see right through you.'
'You're a son-of-a-bitch.'
Romo laughed again. 'Call me later, when you're in a better mood.' He hung up the receiver and went to get another cup of coffee. He laughed yet again as he thought of Lisa's intensity; the girl had to be admired for her persistence in sticking to her dyed-in-the-wool lesbian routine.
The afternoon went smoothly, with Romo spending several hours on bookkeeping and research. He found his thoughts drifting back to Lisa, however, and he couldn't help worrying about his interest in Lisa and her problems. Why was he so fascinated by her anyway? Why couldn't he simply treat her the way he treated every other sex object on the GSI rolls?
That is, why couldn't he push her out of his mind when she wasn't around and concentrate his mental energies on something more useful?
Romo turned on the radio; every song on the air was about love, or so it seemed. Happy songs about love, sad songs about love, indifferent songs about love. Goddamn the whole concept of love anyway! Surely he Wasn't in love with Lisa. Yet he couldn't help thinking about her, wishing that she were in his presence at that very moment; he could not help visualizing his cock in her cunt, his hands on her breasts, his lips moving across hers and his teeth being washed by the top of her tongue.
The girl was like a malignant tumor-she just kept growing on him. Well, there was hope. Maybe she'd let Jan talk her into marriage or something; that way she'd be out of his life forever. In the meantime, Romo had more important things to think about. A marital orientation session, for example. It was scheduled for seven o'clock.
One of Romo's sidelines was providing 'marital orientations' for newlyweds. The sessions weren't much different from Romo's usual orgies, except that most of the participants were outright exhibitionists who enjoyed having an audience of nonorgiasts on hand. The audience consisted of the newlyweds, usually one to three couples at a time. They weren't required to join in the activities, though they were welcome to do so if they wished. The primary purpose of the marital orientations was to teach newlyweds the facts of married life while providing an opportunity for The exhibitionists to fuck in front of relative innocents-i.e., the newlyweds.
Tonight Romo was expecting only one married couple. The husband was an ad space salesman for Skating Rink magazine. Romo remembered him from the initial interview. The man was twenty-three, an ex-athlete from a small college, and a former candidate for the Congregational ministry. His wife was a blonde who wore her hair cut short and her skirts cut even shorter. The chick had seemed fairly shy during the interview, and her accent had definitely been Midwestern. Tonight's session ought to be an interesting one, if only because the viewers seemed so very straight.
Romo dressed in black slacks and a bronze double-breasted corduroy jacket, then went out for dinner. It was six o'clock, and he had just enough time for an omelet at Mom's Jewish Dairy Snak.
'You can undress or keep your clothes on,' Romo said to Ned and Dusti Ermold, the couple who had signed up for the marital orientation. 'Some newlyweds like to get in on the action, and some don't. Of course, being nude doesn't mean that you have to take part in the activities.'
Ned and Dusti looked at each other; the girl blushed shyly, and she bit her lip when she saw her husband reach for his tie.
'I'm game,' Ned said, looking slightly nervous. 'But I'm only going to be an observer, I'm afraid.' He tossed his tie to the floor, removed his shirt quickly, and pulled his undershirt over his head to reveal an exceptionally hairy chest. When he reached for his belt buckle, Dusti took a deep breath and reached around to unzip her dress.
'I'll help you,' Romo said solicitously. He saw that Dusti stiffened up as he helped her with the zipper.
Meanwhile, the other guests were undressing quickly. There were four of them Griswold, a shaggy-haired sculptor; Ruth, his wife; Bettina, a woman slightly older than the others, perhaps thirty-five years of age; then Katz, a literary critic of fifty or so was especially noted for his essays on pre-Miltonian poets. The four exhibitionists were naked by the time Dusti and Ned were halfway undressed, and Romo smile approvingly as he saw that Katz had an uncircumcised cock. Foreskins were a nice touch at such gatherings, since so few men had them these days.
Griswold, who was about twenty-five, came over to Dusti and watched as she nervously stretched her legs out in front of her and shoved her panties over her hips. 'Nice,' he said with a grin.
Ned frowned. He didn't seem to approve of Griswold's interest his wife, but he didn't say anything.
'… was far more important than the era that came afterward,' Katz was saying to Bettina, who looked rather bored. 'Milton was the turning point, you see. Without Milton, the world of English literature might be far different from what it became after Paradise Lost.'
'Cool it,' Romo interrupted. 'You're here to fuck, not to discuss your goddamn English literature.'
Katz managed a smile. 'Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?' he said sarcastically.
'In literature, yes. In sex, no. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Ned and Dusti Ermold. I would have introduced you earlier, but I think introductions are more effective when everyone is in the nude. Now, then-Ned, I want you to stop glaring at Griswold. Gris may be a long hair, but that's no reason to dislike him.'
'It's not his hair,' Ned muttered. 'It's the way he's looking at my wife.'
Dusti was blushing a deep shade of red. But she was smiling, and every so often she met Griswold's gaze for a second or two before looking away.
Romo sighed. He would-have to take charge. 'Let's get down to business. Griswold, I want you and Ruth to begin. Ned, Dusti, we're going to start with fellatio. I trust you know what that is.'
'Of course,' Ned growled.
'Uh-huh, well, there's more to it than most people think. A good blow job is more than a simple series of sucking motions with the mouth and lungs. Fellatio, at its best, is an extremely complex combination of techniques. Ruth, could you kneel in front of Griswold, please? Thank you. Now, if you'll take his cock in your fingers and direct it toward your mouth there! Perfect. Don't start sucking on it yet. Just follow along as I chat with Ned and Dusti. Got the idea? Fine…!
'Now, then. Taking the cock into the mouth Ruth? Go ahead. Good! That's just fine. You see, there's a certain way of taking the cock into the oral cavity. Oh, there are several ways, actually, but this is one of the most exciting methods and is the one most useful to beginners. The tongue comes out of the female's open mouth… Could you do it again, Ruth? Fine! Once more, now… and the moist upper surface of the tongue comes up to touch the underside of the male's cock. If the prick is hard, so much the better. You like that, don't you, Gris? Your cock is expanding, all right…
'To continue, the tongue caresses the underside of the penis momentarily, then serves as a platform to hold the cock in place while the female's jaws open wider and move forward to take the knob. Once again, please.
