Epilogue
Those of you who have read Mark's account of our relationship are likely to cast a skeptical eye upon some of the scenes he described herein.
Well, you SHOULD take it with a grain of salt.
Because it was even MORE bizarre than what he has described.
In deference to my now-husband and, I suppose, to me too, Mark left out one or two of our hot sexual episodes in the House of Hume.
Including my favorite, most treasured memory of the whole lurid ordeal.
Role reversal.
It was the night of the summer solstice.
Hume had a tradition of holding a druid ceremony in the sub-basement of his upper east side sex club.
The festivities began shortly after dinner.
Chanting the Celtic lyrics of some obscene medieval drinking songs, a chorus of bald midgets, specially trained in the arcane sexual practices of the forced labor cults that prospered about the time of the Norman invasion, entered the candle-lit dungeon wearing monk's robes.
Me?
I was naked, perched cross-legged on a surgical table raised several feet off the floor of a sunken section of the cold, stone dungeon.
Well, not exactly naked.
Black fish-net stockings and a pair of crotchless panties.
The edible kind.
They carried candles as they circled my seductive form.
One of them lit my cigarette.
The glowing embers of the flickering flames illuminated my pale face and my brightly painted ruby lips.
I was juicing.
What red-blooded American girl's vagina wouldn't be?
Borne by the midgets in a sedan chair, and wearing tribal regalia, Mark entered the room to hushed applause.
I could tell that his cock was bulging underneath the black leather jock strap that hugged his manly torso.
Shit, he was sexy.
He carried his sexual arousal with just the right amount of outward cynical detachment and inward smouldering desire.
A black box was passed along the heads of the midgets to our good friend who, as you recall, went by the name of Cucumber.
She stepped up to where I sat, my hot cunt waiting, waiting, waiting.
I opened the box and held its contents up for all the gathering flock to behold.
Ooohs and aaaahs filled the room as all saw the glistening black leather dildo harness.
I strapped it on.
Oh, how wonderful it felt to have a dick.
I paraded my new phallus back and forth for all to see.
Whereupon Mark dismounted his sedan chair and joined me on the little table that was our stage.
How can I describe the hot thrill of yanking off Mark's jockstrap to reveal his pounding hard-on?
How can I relate the amazing violent surge of libidinous joy that rocked my soul as I placed the end of the leather dick, pre-lubricated with a mixture of petroleum jelly and sheep's blood, against his naked ass?
I rammed it inside him.
Again and again.
Jesus, it was a hell of a night.
Mark, I'll always love you.
Diane