Chapter 2
Finally I got home. Alice was running her bath, and I could hear her singing away gaily.
"Home, hon," I called, but apparently she didn't hear me. I fixed myself a martini, and flopped down on the couch.
There was hardly an object or piece of furniture in the room that Alice and I hadn't used some time, in some way, to satisfy our imaginative sexual appetites. Marriage counselors always tell you to try something different, vary the positions, or boredom sets in. We never consulted one, and probably never would. We both loved sex, and used our wild imaginations to enjoy it.
The couch I was sitting on -- the orange velvet one -- had a nice bounce to it. Alice and I used it frequently. We loved the velvet against our naked skin. If you looked closely, you'd discover little faded, impossible to get out spots all over it. I could remember each one with utter joy.
The lamp. A Kovacs original. Set us back $120. We did amazing things with that big, round bulb. It drove Alice wild. I'd let it cool a little, first, then start rolling it and rubbing it over her body. Across her cunt, around her ass, over her tits and nipples. It was one of our early experiments that was successful, for we used the bulb often. Originally, we had a 200 Watt bulb in there, but that wouldn't do. By the time we had to wait for it to cool down, we had cooled down, and might settle down to scrabble or something. But 50 Watts was perfect. Not much light. But a lot of heat.
The thick pile carpet was sensational. The word is friction. Alice would lie face down on it, and I'd take her by the heels and drag her around. It would steam up her cunt and harden her nipples. Then I'd turn her around and start to pick off the lint, but not all of it. I'd start with the lint that got trapped in her bush, and in moments I'd be eating her. She'd worry about the rest of the lint later.
The glass table. It had sharp edges and was fairly uncomfortable. But that didn't matter. A little jab in the thigh by a corner of glass would keep our temperatures climbing. Pain is fun, sometimes. We did it on the table, under the table, half on the table, half on the rug. Windex takes the spots off easily.
The old, gold mirror from Alice's parents. We'd set it up against the couch and watch ourselves go. We'd make up dirty movies, and watch ourselves perform like acrobats in a circus. Sometimes, we'd dick off the best ones with our Polaroid. I keep all those wonderful pictures locked up in a wall safe. Some evenings, we'll just sit around with some coffee and go through the pictures. It's a lot more exciting than our wedding album which we threw out years ago. We've got about a hundred pictures, and each one is more disgusting than the other. It's not easy to fuck and photograph at the same time, but in time, you learn the ropes. We did.
The red satin curtains. I'd rub them back and forth between Alice's legs till she was on fire. Cunt goo, I've discovered, is even more difficult to clean than Man juice. But the curtains had hundreds of folds in them, and the discolorations were well hidden.
The stereo. We'd each put on a set of headphones, turn the sound way up, and maybe smoke some grass to heighten the whole thing. Screwing to full orchestration pounding in your brain, is a delight not to be missed.
Even the fruit on the table had caressed our skin. It's incredible what the various textures can do to the nerve endings in skin. Bananas. Apples. Pears. Grapes. Stick it up the cunt. Massage with it. Fantastic.
And the closet. We'd turn all the lights out and shut the door, so it was pitch black in there. Then I'd make like I was raping her. We've bumped into hangers, coats, brooms, umbrellas, but who cared? It's a gas. Closets were made for fucking. In fact, this was indeed a living room for fucking. No holds barred. We did anything and everything . with anything and everything. We never got tired of sex. It was different every time.
I slowly sipped my martini, and my mind wandered from Jeannette to Alice to tomorrow's model. Yessir. If it weren't for all my boring patients, I would have swore I was the happiest man alive.
Alice came into the living room without a stitch on. She had a big silly grin on her face. She's got long bones and skin smooth as glass. Her tits could use maybe an extra inch, so each time we went to it, I pulled and sucked and yanked on them, in the hope of making them just a wee bit larger. I think I've been successful. They were almost perfectly round, very firm, and were pulled up proudly by her long nipples. She's got long hair, red, and a red bush to prove it. I think that coloring comes from the fires that are constantly burning down there. A nonstop box. Day, and night. It was one of the reasons I married her.
Playfully, she turned sideways, and struck a pose, placing both her hands on her hips. She lifted her head like a model. Her hair flowed down halfway to her back.
"Am I woman?"
"You sure are."
"Well don't just sit there, honey. Get up and rape me or something."
I sipped my martini, and smiled.
She turned and came over to the couch, moving her torso with those long, lean legs. She stuck her cunt in my face.
"Okay. Eat me up." She spread her lips wide. "C'mon. You want supper or not?"
I wanted supper. I tongued around her clit.
"Faster, damnit, faster," she said.
Her goo dribbled all over my face. She pushed her cunt back and forth.
"Come on, Doc," she said jokingly, "Let's see what you're made of. I masturbated twice today just thinking about you. So now that I'm with you... give me a good one."
"I'm not fighting you," I said.
I ate her good, faster and faster.
"Put your damned martini down, will you?"
I put it down, and took her by her soft ass.
"Baby, here I come," she shrieked, and she grabbed on to my ears as her body jumped around and quivered. I'm coming, doc... don't you dare stop now." I didn't stop. Her whole body shook and she let out a happy yell.
"Wowee! Now that's what I call an appetizer," she said, coming over on the couch next to me. She threw her arms around me and nibbled-inside my ear.
"How was your day, Hon?" she whispered, as her tongue made tickling circles in my ear canal.
I didn't answer, or look at her, because I knew she'd know I was lying.
"Well?" she asked.
"Just another day," I said, finally, bringing the martini glass to my lips.
"Why so sad, pussycat?" she asked.
"Just a little tired, Alice."
"Well, we'll just have to perk you up, won't we? What do you want for supper?" Her hand slid in my pants and she squeezed my cock.
"I just ate, thanks," I said, removing one of her cunt hairs from my mouth.
She kept squeezing, getting my prick hard. "Funny. But... how'd you like some left over pot roast from last night? It's fast, and that'll give us the whole night to do our little hot thing."
"Great," I said. With a final squeeze, she got up and wiggled her ass out of the room and into the kitchen.
I thought about telling her about Jeannette, but changed my mind. Why interrupt a perfectly delicious evening with something like that. Anyway, the martini had gotten to my head, and I couldn't have handled anything more complicated than sex, anyway.
I went into the bedroom and took all my clothes off. I checked the horny doctor in the full length mirror. The years I spent weight-lifting in college still showed. A little sloppy around the waist, but the shoulder and arm muscles still held up pretty well. A little grey at the temples, a few strands of gray in my goatee. But a full head of curly hair, thirty nine, and the machine was still in excellent working order. And lots of wonderful years left in the piece of skin that dangled so meekly down between my legs.
I returned to the living room, stark naked, and started leafing through The New Yorker on the couch.
Alice walked in.
"You're looking good," she said. "Ready for some action, tonight? Wow. I'm horny as the devil."
She sat next to me, and removed the magazine from my hands. Her fingers toyed with my cock and balls. They reacted quickly.
"I'll give you a quick suck, but just a quick one," she said, "I've got a few things to prepare for supper."
She bent down and put my' prick in her mouth. Nobody in the world could handle a cock like her. Perfect coordination of tongue, lip and rhythm. While she sloshed away at my cock, I grabbed hold of her tit and played with it. After a long day, it was really nice to be home.
"Aw, come on, don't stop," I begged. "You've got me started."
"We can finish later," she said, sweetly returning my magazine to me. She playfully tweaked my fully hard cock, then got up and returned to the kitchen.
I put down the magazine.
"If you don't hurry up, I'm gonna sit right here and jerk myself off! Christ! What a tease you are!" I called.
"Suit yourself. It's your prick. But I'll tell you," she called from the kitchen, "for a guy who's got so many patients, you sure don't have much patience." It wasn't worth the laugh I gave her. "Why don't you and your bone come into the kitchen and keep me company while I finish supper. It's almost ready."
"It's already down to normal, thanks to you," I said.
I came into the kitchen and put my naked ass on a chair.
"Cold," I said, wiggling my ass around.
"Serves you right for eating in the nude. If you can't handle it, why don't you put a robe on."
"Just make supper," I said.
"So? What's it going to be tonight?" she asked.
"You're the big planner. You always think up the dillies. So what are you asking me for?"
"Thought maybe you had some ideas."
"Let's take a bath together," I said.
"Just took one. Come on. Something different."
"Let's take a walk in the nude down Fifth Avenue. That should be fun."
"Be serious."
"Well, maybe we could invite the Doorman up and he could watch us. Maybe he'll bring some of his cheap wine and we can all indulge," I said.
"Hey," she said, "I've got it." She brought two plates of pot roast and french fries and set them on the table.
"What do you got?" I asked.
"Oh, this is terrific." She sat down and started in with her food.
"Alice. You sure are sexy sitting there in the nude eating pot roast. Don't get your tits caught in the fries, though. You don't want greasy tits, do you?"
"What an idea."
"Okay, for Chissakes, tell me. What's your idea?" I said, putting my fork down.
"You know that new young couple that moved in across the hall?"
"Yeh... "
"Don't yeh me. That's it. They're attractive. Why don't we invite them over and maybe start a little something."
"They're practically teenagers."
"Oh, they are not. They're in their early twenties. Oh, wow. What a gas that'll be. Well, Morris, don't just sit there with that french fry hanging out of your mouth. Get on the phone and call them. Their last name is Morgan."
"You call them."
"Okay. Never mind. We'll just have a dull evening, I guess."
"Con artist," I said. I threw a shred of pot roast at her breast, and went to the living room to call.
Ginger and John came over at eight o'clock. The two of them were about as stiff as a couple of tightly drawn shoelaces. He came over wearing a dark brown suit, of all things. She was wearing heels and a dress. Except for the fact that they kept their backs so straight and their language so clean, I suppose they were nice people. But frankly, I was expecting a bummer. We just had nothing in common with these kids.
"Drink?" I offered.
"No. Thanks. We don't drink."
"Oh, we don't?" I said sarcastically.
"No," Ginger said politely.
Then that god awful silence. Ginger and John were both seated on the couch with their hands in their laps. They looked like a couple of school children trying to make a good impression on the teacher. They moved their heads from me, on the green chair, to Alice, who was sitting in the wicker chair. Alice and I, at least were dressed casually. They were ready to go to the concert, or something.
"So, how long you been next door?" Alice asked.
"'Bout three weeks now," John said. "Nice place. Couldn't afford it myself, but Ginger's father has lots of money. He pays for it."
"Nice arrangement," I said.
"It's okay," John said.
Silence. More silence.
"How about some grass?" Alice asked.
"Some what?" John said.
"What?" Ginger repeated.
"Grass," Alice said.
"'What the heck's that?" John asked. "Grass? You mean like grass you mow?"
"Pot," said Alice.
Ginger and John looked at each other. In my mind, their bodies formed two perfect squares.
"Oh," John said finally, with a knowing smile. "You mean... drugs. Right?"
"Not drugs," Alice said, trying to told her frustration in. Pot isn't drugs. Listen... did either of you ever have a drink in your life. I mean like alcohol? Wine? Beer?"
"Oh sure," said Ginger, demonstrating her sophistication."
"Well," said Alice. "Did you like it?"
"Oh, sure. It's all right. Once in a while," Ginger said.
"Well," said Alice, the shrewdie, "tonight is once in a while. It's not every evening that Morris and I have friends over. We're very selective about who we spend time with. And if you've never had grass... pot... I've got to tell you that it's even milder than alcohol. Lot's of people don't even feel it."
"Then why do they smoke it?" Ginger asked. At least she knew what they did with it.
"It's sociable," Alice said. "Didn't you know that? The president of the United States smokes it. The vice-president smokes it. Every one in the United Nations smokes it... especially when they're in session. Artists smoke it. Bums smoke it. Everybody smokes it. Except you two. You're the only two people in the world who don't smoke it."
There was no response from them. Nothing at all. Ginger crossed her legs and her velvet skirt rose up, exposing more leg than was decent. But, as I expected, she caught my eye, and yanked it down. Ginger and John looked from Alice to me, quiet and stone faced. I couldn't imagine what they'd be like stoned.
"Well," I finally said, breaking the boring silence, "as a doctor, I'd have to say it's quite healthy to smoke pot. It clears the system and wards off cold germs, flue germs, and keeps your metabolism in terrific shape."
"Oh, it's not even legal," said John. The way Ginger was sitting wasn't legal either, for she had uncrossed her legs and now sat with them somewhat apart. I saw the fringes of what appeared to be a pair of pink panties.
"Oh, they'll make it legal as soon as they finish their research on it, John," I said matter-of-factly. "It's just a matter of time. It should be legal within six months. Maybe less."
"I had no idea," said John. "I work in a bank downtown ... and I'm sure no one there has ever smoked it. We're all fairly conservative at the bank, you know." I knew. His dull tie, white shirt and dark suit gave it away. The way he parted his hair in the middle didn't make him look particularly groovy either.
"A bank," said Alice with make believe interest, "That's absolutely fascinating. Why, I was in the bank just last week making a deposit. I think it's so wonderful the way they handle all that money, and keep it all straight."
"It's not so interesting," said John, "it's pretty boring. All the interesting work is done by computers. I'm only in the Management Training Program. They really give me the worst jobs. Tons of paper work. All the dirty details. It really is boring."
"Pot isn't boring," Alice persisted.
"I'll tell you what," I suggested, "why don't I take some pot out? You kids give it a little try. See what you think. If you don't like it, fine, we'll do something else like go out for pizza or something exciting like that. But at least, give it a try. The stuff I have is really mild. Like Alice said, you probably won't even feel it. It certainly can't hurt you to try it. We'll show you how."
I didn't even wait for them to answer. The dark recesses between Ginger's legs were getting me horny and I was anxious to get the evening started. Or at least make an attempt at it. I went into the kitchen. We keep our joints in the icebox. A friend once told us that you get a faster high when the pot is chilled. Contrary to what I had told Ginger and John, the stuff we had was pure dynamite. Acapulco Red. Two puffs and you'd be off in never-never land. I returned with two joints. That would have been enough for a dozen people.
"Do either of you smoke cigarettes?" I asked.
Both shook their heads. Christ. What did they do in their time.
"Okay," I said, "watch." Without lighting the joint, I put it in my mouth and demonstrated the proper method of puffing. I told them how it's important to keep the smoke down in your lungs as long as possible. A little reluctantly, John and Ginger did a small trial run with the unlit joint.
"See? It's that easy," I said. "Let's light up, but first, Alice, why don't you light the candles and we'll turn off all the lights. That way makes it real nice. Atmosphere, you know."
Alice lit two candles on the glass table and switched off all the lights. The whole room seemed to flicker. "Okay, let's try it now," I said.
I gave Ginger and John each a joint and held a match for them. They both looked at each other cautiously, then puffed as I had instructed. Both began coughing furiously.
"Hey," said John, "this stuff is murder."
"As mild as they make it," I said. "It's perfectly natural to cough at first, but after a few puffs, it'll be second nature to you."
They tried again, this time more successfully. They both puffed away like smokestacks, not knowing what they were getting into, not knowing what was getting into them. About nine or ten puffs each. Alice and I held our breath to see what would happen, whether they'd react or not.
They reacted. Ginger leaned way back on the couch and her legs widened, affording me a sensational view. Her head went on the back of the couch and she began rolling it from side to side. John got the stares. He had his eyes glued to one of the candles, and he gazed at it like he was in a trance. He was. The two of them were zonked out of their skulls.
Neither Alice nor I smoked. It was more exciting that way -- being straight, watching a couple of others freak out. Alice and I looked at each other and winked. We had them. They were ours. They were helplessly high. Dynamite pot.
"That's it," I said, "the whole idea is to completely relax. Just let go and let your bodies float as far away as they want." Ginger's left leg now started swinging back and forth in rhythm with her rolling head. Those frilly pink panties were driving me nuts.
"Honey," I whispered to Alice, "let me take Ginger now. I think she wants it."
"Oh, silly, wait. The evening's young," she said. "How do the two of you feel?" I asked.
"Ooooooooh," said Ginger, "I don't even know where I am. I don't even know who I am. Yes I do. I'm Queen of the World, and I have big fluffy wings. Aren't they pretty?"
"They're beautiful," Alice said.
"And how do you feel, John?" I asked.
The candle gazer didn't hear a word. The flame had hypnotized him. If the world came to an end, right then, he would remain, staring at that candle.
I went over to the stereo and switched on some soft music. Low lights. Music. All we needed was action.
"C'mon, Alice, let's take them now," I said.
"Oh, relax." She thought for a moment. "Listen, why don't you get out some of our pictures. I'll bet they'd enjoy them," she said.
On the way into the bedroom, I smashed my leg against a table. "Damn," I shouted. But I was back shortly with the pictures. All horny hundred of them.
"Hey," I said, "why don't the two of you move over and let us show you some of our pictures. They're a lot less boring than working in a bank. Believe me."
With a little nudging, we got Ginger too move over. Alice and I sat between them. John was still staring at the candle. Ginger's head slowly turned to the stack of pictures I had in the shoe box.
"John," I said, "John! Want to see some pictures?" Alice clapped her hands and John snapped his head back startled.
"Pictures," said Alice, "pretty pictures. Your host and hostess are going to show you some pretty pictures."
With a dreamy look in his eyes, he slowly turned his head toward me.
"Photographs. Click. Click. Snapshots," I said, trying to break through the cotton of his fuzzy mind.
"Oh," John said finally. At last. The light.
I presented the pictures very matter-of-factly, with explicit description. All of which was unnecessary, since the pictures spoke for themselves. But I was curious how they'd react.
"Here," I said, holding up the fast, "you'll have to look close because there's not too much light. "This is Alice and me. See? I've got my finger wedged up in her pussy, and she's holding tight to my cock. I had to take this with one hand, of course. See the Polaroid in my right hand?"
"Ooooooo," said Ginger, drawing her exclamation out, "is that really you two? It's really exciting."
John's eyes gazed deeply at the picture.
"Dirty pictures?" he asked, with a goofy expression on his face, "aren't they illegal?"
"They're planning to legalize them when they legalize pot," I said.
I went to the next picture. It was upside down, but who'd know the difference. It simply made Alice and me look more athletic.
"Here's Alice sucking me off. I was able to use both hands for this shot. See how nice and in focus it is?"
"Ooooooh," said Ginger, "I really like that one, it's very sensitive."
"I always blow him with sensitivity," Alice chimed.
John continued staring at the picture, saying nothing. His mouth had dropped open. A large bulge had formed in his crotch. Pot has a way of getting you deep in the groin.
"Oh, you'll love this one," I said.
I held up another. Alice was on all fours and I was doing her up the rear end. "We had to lay the mirror sideways for this," I said, "we find this position particularly stimulating. It does wonders for a tired clit. Or a bored cock."
"Oooooh," said Alice, "it's really thrilling."
"She looks like a dog," said John.
"Everybody looks like a dog when they get on their hands and knees," said my defensive wife.
"Now," I said, "Here's an Alice special. She's terrif' with the old camera. Took this of me while I was jerking off. Caught me just as I was coming."
In the picture, I was laying flat on my back with my hand, blurred from my fast hand motions, on my hard prick. A little speck of juice had just started flying out of my prick."
"Oooooh," said Ginger, "what a beautiful thing... it looks just like John's."
"I'll bet it doesn't," Alice challenged, "Morris has the biggest cock in the world. Now you're not going to sit there and tell me John's can even match that, are you? I simply won't believe it. Not at all."
"It's true," said Ginger, "I even think John's is bigger than that."
"Impossible," said Alice.
"I seriously doubt it," I said, joining in the fun. "Show them, John," Ginger said. She was flying higher than a kite.
"Mine is bigger," John bragged. Pot has a way of sucking you into a conversation.
"Bullshit," said Alice.
"It really is," Ginger said.
"I find it hard to believe, hard to believe," I said. Frankly, I didn't give a shit if John's dork was two inches or two feet. All I cared about was getting on with the damn evening. Who cared who had who beat in the prick department?
"Come on," said Ginger, "show them."
"Let me help," said Alice, and she started to reach down to his pants.
"I'll show you myself," said John. Zonked as he was, he still had some fight left in him.
Very slowly, John lowered the zipper of his pants. Very slowly. It was like watching a slow motion picture. Finally, after maybe two or three minutes, he got the zipper all the way down. All eyes were fastened on his crotch. Great expectations. His hand went slowly in his pants, he fumbled around for another minute or so, then brought his prick out. It was only semihard, but he surely had me beat. Lots of meat there. Closer to two feet, I thought.
"Oh, that's not bigger," Alice said, but I noticed that she licked her chops. "Doc has a bigger one."
"Because it isn't hard yet," said Ginger. "When it's hard it sticks out so far it scares you."
"Well make it hard," said Alice.
Alice and I got off the couch and sat down on the rug directly in front of them. Ginger slid over and put John's cock in her hand.
"Now you watch," Ginger said, "and you see if his isn't bigger."
She leaned down and put John's large prick in her mouth. Did I say straight laced. Ginger took the whole thing and shoved it deep in her mouth. One deft hand wiggled its way inside his pants to his balls. With complete dedication and passion, Ginger's wet lips rose and fell up and down John's fast growing prick. Occasionally she'd stop sucking and let her tongue tickle all around his shaft. Then she'd go back to the pumping action with her mouth. Ginger was a pro. John's head was thrown way back against the couch back, and his eyes were closed. Instead of exhaling silently, his were deep moans from his throat.
John's moans, Ginger's slurping sounds, the flickering candles and the music in the background was almost tender.
"How can you suck on him with his pants on?" Alice asked. While she asked her left hand slid down into my pants and started pressing my cock. I accepted the warm challenge; my hand slid into her pants and my finger entered her hairy, wet pussy.
John lifted up with some effort, and Ginger removed his pants and underpants. John flung one of his legs over the side of the couch and let the other hang down. His cock stood up stiffly, like a tree growing out of two big sacks below. Ginger returned to her task, and put his stiff prick back in her mouth again. Up and down she slurped, her own eyes closed, one of her hands holding her hair to keep the strands from getting in the way. Alice and I kept time with our fingers. The fingers we had in each others pants. Mine kept sliding in and out of her slit, hers kept squeezing my cock, fondling my balls. All this was happening inches from Ginger and John. What a terrific floor show we were getting.
Ginger was lying on her stomach, stretched across the length of the couch. While she sucked away at her husband's prick, her skirt had made it well above her frilly, pink panties. Her ass moved up and down in rhythm, the flesh around her legs and thighs softly wiggling. I started to reach for Ginger's ass, but Alice took my hand back. She wanted to wait. She had a lot of patience in situations like this. She liked to eke and ooze out sex as far as it would go. She knew the night was young.
Ginger's mouth worked furiously, hungrily. John's moans had increased in volume as his wife's mouth picked up the tempo. I couldn't imagine how Ginger got all of that cock in her mouth, but there it was. Each time she sucked down to the base of his cock, the whole thing slipped away somewhere in her mouth. While John's prick got the heat treatment, Ginger's hand remained active. She pinched and caressed the skin on his balls, let her hand slide around his thighs, his stomach, let a finger wiggle into his asshole; then she returned her hand to his cock, so she pumped him while she sucked away.
"So?" said Alice, "let's see how big it is now." Alice had to repeat it because our high flying guests were a bit carried away with themselves. When Alice and I spend time with two other people, we like it to be a foursome, not two twosomes.
Ginger finally stopped sucking. She lifted her head, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and looked at Alice and me proudly.
"Look at that," she said, pointing a finger at the cock monster that rose between John's legs, "is that bigger or is that bigger?"
John's iron rod was tall and quivering. I could see a little gleam in Alice's eye as she stared at it. She was drooling. I knew my wife. Out of sheer emotion, she squeezed my own cock harder than necessary.
"God, it is bigger," Alice said, this time with genuine amazement.
"I think it is," I said, not giving a shit one way or the other.
"Well," said Alice, "Maybe John's got Morris beat in the cock department, but I've got Ginger beat in the cunt department.
"What are you talking about!" Ginger said, upset at the challenge.
"Hey. Keep sucking," John said vaguely. His head was still back, his prick still up. But Ginger ignored his plea.
"I'll bet I've got a bigger pussy than you. And more hair there too," Alice said, with a childish lilt in her voice, like a two-year-old.
"Did you hear that?" Ginger said to her husband. "John. John! Did you hear what Alice said."
John didn't budge. The only muscle that twitched was the erect one, but not in response to his wife's comment. His blow job had been rudely interrupted and his prick was throbbing for more.
"Alice said hers is better than mine, John."
"Bigger," Alice said. And don't forget the hair part. I'm challenging you on that, too."
"Enough talk. Enough talk," I said. "Let's not sit around and theorize all evening. Let's get down to the nitty gritty. Let's get down to the factual truth of the matter."
With that, I removed my finger from inside Alice's panties. Then I leaned over and put my fingers in the nylon of Ginger's pink panties and slowly lowered them down. Her half-moon cheeks were incredible. Pure and white, the little orbs were. I could see just a bit of hair in the crack of her cheeks. I touched one cheek gently, with a nervous, horny finger. Her skin was softer than a kitten's. My head was swimming. My cock was burning.' I was ready for action.
"Okay! Let's see your pussy," Alice challenged. "Why don't you turn over? And why don't you come back here," Alice said to me, taking my hands off the soft contours of Ginger's ass. Mrs. Patience wanted me to wait.
Ginger rolled over on the couch. She lay on her back with her head resting on one of John's legs.
"Well, take a look," said Ginger. "You'll see. Mine's a lot better."
Alice and I moved down, on the carpet, so we were both near her crotch.
"Can't see a thing," said Alice, "if you don't spread your legs, how can we ever know what you have there?"
"I have plenty there," Ginger said, and she lifted one leg over the side of the couch, the way John had done. Her private wet parts were now exposed. Ginger had a full black bush of curly hairs. It seemed to jump around excitedly with the flicker of the candles. Her juicy, pink lips lay partially open for inspection. Alice and I, on our hands and knees, moved our heads between her creamy, white legs. We gazed intently at her crotch.
"I think her clit is fairly small," I said, and with my tongue I twiddled the little bud.
Alice gently took me by the hair and pulled my head away. Shit, this woman wouldn't let me have any fun. Her and her own damned sweet time!
"Oh, you kidder you... Ginger. That's not very big. You're probably going to tell me John's cock can fit in there. I'll bet he can't get past one inch of that... little opening."
"Hey," said John, dumbly turning his head toward us, "what are you doing to my wife?"
Ginger answered. "You know what, John? They said you couldn't get your thing inside me. Did you hear that? They say I'm too small for you. Tell them that's not true."
"Oh," said John. He was lost somewhere in the fog of his mind.
"Never," Alice persisted. "It'll never fit. How could it?"
"Want to bet?" said Alice. Little Miss straight lace had more spunk than I would have ever given her credit for.
"I'll take that bet," I said, my eyes gazing deep into Ginger's wet cunt, "as a doctor, I'd say these vaginal membranes couldn't possibly have the flexibility to accommodate such a hard stiffness as John possesses."
"Don't confuse the issue," Alice said, "it just won't fit, that's all. Couldn't possibly."
Ginger sat up. She swiveled John's body around so he now was sitting on the couch with both legs in front of him. She stretched one leg over him and sat down on him, facing us.
"You just watch," she said. Straddling him as he sat there -- slouched, rather, because he leaned way back -- Ginger took his still hard prick in her hands and directed the head of it to her hole. Adjusting her body and giving her hips a few grinding motions, John's cock managed to slide in easily, with a small squishing sound. In a moment, John's hard shaft disappeared entirely inside Ginger. Only his large balls showed.
"There. I told you," Ginger said. She began a slow rocking motion, up and down on his prick, while both of her hands caressed his hairy balls. Straight laced? Conservative? Just a couple of teenage kids? Inches from our very eyes, our next door neighbors were fucking away for us. They should have charged admission. It beat anything I saw in the porno shows in Copenhagen.
As Ginger slid her body up and down, and all around, John's hands instinctively found the front of her blouse. Without bothering with the buttons -- in his condition he wouldn't have been able, to, anyway -- he just pulled hard near the collar and all the buttons popped. They flew around the room, and one caught me in the forehead. He slid her blouse off. Then he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside.
Glory be. Ginger had a pair of show stoppers. Yes, she had Alice beat in the fit department. Two, full round angel cakes just made for eating and squeezing. John's hands worked like a madman. He pulled and yanked at Ginger's pink nipples, dug his nails into her soft breasts. Ginger responded by bumping and grinding his cock deeper into her -- if that was possible. Front row seats. Alice and I sat below them, in front of them with our legs crossed. Our own fingers remained active in excited response to the fucking scene before us. Alice rolled my cock up and down between her fingers, and I wiggled my finger around in her fiery cunt. Everybody was working hard and loving it.
Ginger bumped and bounced quicker and quicker. The flickering candles exaggerated her movements, like at a psychedelic light show. They were both going wild, rocking and rolling, twisting and grinding, up and down, up and down. Ginger's eyes were squeezed shut, and her hair flipped and flopped around as she rode him. John's hands squeezed, plucked, scratched at her big tits. Their breathing got heavier and heavier. Ginger's legs flew up and down like they were disconnected from her. John's cock appeared then disappeared, appeared then disappeared as her cunt jumped and bumped. Ginger's stomach went in and out in little ripples as the maddening tempo increased. Alice and I were on the verge ourselves, but we slowed our fingers. There was lots of time to come.
Ginger and John fucked furiously. Their faces were contorted with delight. The pot had brought out every last iota of sensuousness and excitement from their bodies. They probably never fucked like that in their life. Ginger's tits bounced around crazily. I was amazed at the way they moved, considering the normal restrictions of that kind of position.
"Oh, god," Ginger said. Riding up and down, throwing her head back, she grabbed on to John's legs tightly.
"Oh, Jesus," moaned John. His hands were running wildly all over his wife's soft body. Over her tits, her shoulders, back to her tits, down her stomach, a little twiddle on the clit, then to her legs, rubbing, kneading, pinching, scratching. Their gasps and moans came louder. Our next door neighbors were coming.
As their orgasm came, Alice and I spontaneously started to clap. It was just too fantastic. Our neighbors were coming like they've never come before, and Alice and I sat crosslegged in front of them and applauded.
"Bravo," Alice cried.
"Whoopee!" I shouted.
"Jesus Christ!" John said, as his fluid exploded out of him.
"Oh, my god," said Alice, her limbs kicking around, as her entire body burst into orgasmic fireworks.
The last time I applauded like that, the Mets won the World Series.
"Bravo. Bravo," Alice repeated enthusiastically.
And then there was silence. Ginger and John were spent, completely exhausted. Alice and I quietly returned our fingers to their heated, respective positions, inside each others pants. It was a grand, grand showing. But just the evening's appetizer.
Ebb tide played in the background, and Alice and I stroked each others private parts. It was really nice to feel so comfortable with your next door neighbors.
"Oh, wow. That was too fantastic," Ginger sighed, easing herself off her husband, letting John's cock flop out of her cunt.
"Jesus Christ," John mumbled. His mind was still wrecked.
"Okay," said Alice, Mrs. Energy, "how would the two of you like to play a game? It's called Guess Who."
I had never heard of that one before. But Alice had a quick mind when it came to sex.
"'What's that?" Ginger asked, her eyes barely open. She looked like she was ready for bed. So did John. His head was again against the back of the couch.
"You never heard of Guess Who?" Alice asked with make believe amazement. "Why, I thought everybody knew that game."
"I never heard of it," Ginger said dreamily.
"Well, it's lots of fun. And it's so easy to learn. Here, Ginger, I'll show you. But you'll have to sit over on this end of the couch." I couldn't for the life of me figure out what my horny wife had in mind.
Ginger lifted her exquisite and exhausted body and went to the other side of the couch. As she moved, those mother tits floated like soft angels from her. If I didn't get to them in a matter of minutes, they'd have to take me away. I just had to touch those big, round beauties. My patience was wearing thin, and my cock was standing thick.
"Okay, Ginger... " Alice directed her comments to her, since John was obviously out of it. For all we knew, he was back at the bank, sifting papers. Good grass makes some people tired. So will a strenuous fuck.
"Okay, Ginger... " Alice continued, "you close your eyes and one of us is going to touch you. But you've got to promise not to look. But wait, why even tempt you? Be right back."
Alice got up and returned with a red, silk scarf. She fastened it securely around Ginger's eyes so she could see nothing.
"Now you can't peek," said Alice. "Here's the game. Someone will touch you. Maybe me. Maybe Doc. Maybe your husband. You've got to guess who. It's a very exciting game."
"I'll know when John is touching me," she said proudly. And a little more alertly. The game was bringing the life back into her.
"Don't be so sure," said Alice. "Sometimes it's hard to tell. Okay... now who's this?"
Alice took my hand and directed it toward Ginger's wonderful tit. At last! I'd been waiting for this moment. My hand cupped as much of the flesh as I could get. I squeezed and squeezed. I would have continued, of course, but The Game Master took my hand away after a few delirious seconds of joy. My protective wife didn't want me to get too carried away. Not yet, anyway.
"Guess who, Ginger?"
"Well, I know it wasn't John. Uh, it was your husband. Morris."
"Wrong," Alice said. It was me."
"Really?" Ginger asked.
"I told you it was hard," Alice said. Alice was damned right. It was hard as a rock. Hard enough to ram up Ginger's big wet cunt.
"Let's try it again," said Alice. "Isn't this just oodles of fun?"
Ginger nodded. I think John was snoring.
Alice locked two fingers together and eased them into Ginger's box.
"Ooooooh," said Ginger. Christ. I wish my wife had let me do that one. She got all the good stuff to do.
"Guess who?" said Alice. I watched jealously as Alice's hand slid in and out of Ginger's hole.
"That's John," she said confidently. "That's John for sure."
"Right," I said, "your sure got that one. Hey, Ginger ... have you ever played this game before?"
"Never," she said, "honestly."
"Aw, come on," said Alice, retrieving her fingers from Ginger's glorious cunt. "You're putting us on."
"Honest," she repeated, "I've never played before."
"Okay, then," said Alice, "see if you can guess who this is?"
Alice shoved one of her fingers up Ginger's asshole. A little resistance at first; but then she managed to wiggle it all the way in. Christ. Alice was having all the fun! It was Alice's game... but my prick was getting impatient. I didn't give a shit if it was the mailman's game. I wanted in. And fast.
"That's a tough one," said Ginger, letting her legs part to allow Alice's wiggling finger all the freedom it needed. "I'd have to guess."
"Guessing's not allowed," said Alice, and her finger did some more fancy work up there.
"I don't think it's John's. His finger nails aren't that long. I'll bet that's your finger, Alice."
"Two out of three," said Alice. "Say, you're terrific at this game. Do you swear on a stack of bibles you've never played before?"
"Pos," said Ginger. Her body responding to the wiggling finger with wiggling motions of her pelvis. John's snoring grew louder.
"Oh, look," said Alice, "John must have dozed off. Do you mind if I wake him, Ginger? This game just isn't the same with only three people."
"I don't mind," Ginger said.
Alice removed her finger from Gingers insides, and moved over to John. She bent down and put his soft prick in her mouth.
"Say, Ginger," I said, she still had the scarf securely fastened, "do you think John will know who's trying to wake him?"
"He'll know," she said.
"Well," I commented, "Alice has her hand on John's shoulder and she's shaking him. I'm not sure John will know whose hand it is."
Alice sucked away at John's cock. The blow job made his snoring stop. But his cock started to go... up, up, although he still remained with his eyes closed. In moments, Alice had sucked him up to full size. While she was occupied, I turned my full attention to Ginger. I quickly lowered my pants and stuck my hard cock smack up against her face. My trembling hands reached for her tits, and I squeezed them hard.
"I know that's not you, Alice," Ginger said, my bone knocking up against her face. Alice didn't hear. Her mouth was full and her attention was elsewhere.
"Is it me?" I asked Ginger.
"Yes. I think so," she said.
"How can you tell?" I inquired, tickling her nipples, ramming my rod harder against her face.
Pot can do funny things to the mind. Obviously it was me, since my voice was so near. But Ginger tried to figure it out on a whole different basis. The taste test.
"Put it in my mouth, and I'll be sure," she said.
I needed no coaxing. Zip. I plunged it in her mouth. Two blow jobs going on simultaneously. And Frank Sinatra was crooning in the background.
"Mmmmmm, " said Ginger. It was about all she could say.
I squeezed her fleshy tits alternately with my hands. It was like doing little calisthenics with them.
"I don't think you're John," she finally said, taking her mouth away for a moment. But she again returned to my pulsing prick. Now I understood how she got John's cock so deep in her mouth. There was just a lot of room back there. She sucked and sloshed her mouth around my cock. I was delirious with excitement. My left hand quickly found its way to her wet hole, and I shoved a few fingers deep in the orifice.
"Ooooooh," Ginger moaned. She loved that expression, apparently. I heard a few oooohs and aaaahs coming from the other end of the couch, too. But that was their business. I had enough to keep me busy.
Ginger's remarkable mouth worked faster. My fingers inched up deeper inside her. This little girl was all action. I was about to shoot the whole works in her mouth, but I pulled out quickly. I wanted to do it inside her pussy. I took her arm and led her -- she still had the red scarf around her eyes -- onto the carpet. Laying her on her back I spread her legs wide apart. Ginger was obviously anxious, too. But there was no time to eat her. My cock was bloated with fluid and couldn't wait any longer. I got between her legs, on top of her and began directing my pulsing cock into her wide open hole.
"Wait a sec!" I heard Alice say. "Not yet!" We haven't finished playing Guess Who yet."
The bitch. The sadistic bitch. Maybe an eighth of an inch to go -- that close to hot home -- and the bitch had to go and ruin everything.
"Hey. What are you doing to Ginger?" John asked from the couch. He blinked a few times. He was having some trouble comprehending what he saw. His wife -- stark naked, blindfolded -- and me, between her legs, mounting her. Then he looked down at his own cock which was stiff as iron, still wet from Alice's saliva. In that condition, it's difficult for a man to get angry.
"I'm about to fuck her, since you asked," I said, "but no! Alice the bitch says we've got to keep playing her goddamned stupid game. Christ!"
"Now don't get nasty," Alice said, She was holding John's cock in her hand, stroking it up and down. "Just be patient."
Alice got up, and I rolled over on my side. I compromised, and let my left hand toy with Ginger's wet cunt hairs.
"Now John," Alice said, "you come over here." John was still bleary eyed from the pot and the previous activities. But he managed to rise. With his cock standing out stiffly, we walked over to Alice.
"First," said Alice, the social chairman, "let's dispose of all this unnecessary clothing." She was down to her skin in a second. When she wanted to move, she moved. John, with some assistance from Alice, removed his shirt.
"Okay," said Alice, "you keep your blindfold on Ginger. Now see if you can guess who this is."
Alice left the room and returned with a large dildo. She stroked it up and down on Ginger's cunt, making sure it was wet enough for the monstrous object. Then she worked it in, inch by inch. Ginger had to spread her legs wide to accommodate the instrument. The whole thing excited John immensely. His hand was playing with his own prick, as he watched his wife's cunt being toyed with.
"Oooh, that's John," Ginger said.
Alice turned the dildo this way and that, thrusting it in and out, side to side. Ginger was going out of her mind.
"Wrong," said John, with a small laugh. He had gotten into the spirit of the evening.
"Oh, doctor, you really are big," Ginger said.
"Ha ha ha," John said, "everybody fooled you. It's nobody."
Ginger quickly removed the scarf from around her eyes and looked down.
"My god, what's that?" she almost shrieked, "get it out of me."
"Ha ha ha ha," John laughed again. "We really fooled you. You got excited from that thing. Ha ha ha."
So did I. My cock was as straight up as John's.
"What is that thing," Ginger asked, as Alice removed it from her gaping twat.
"A dildo," said Alice, "wasn't it nice?"
"Its so real," she said.
"Okay, John. You put on the scarf now." Alice instructed.
He needed no prodding. He placed it around his own eyes. Then he lay down on the carpet, his cock still very much erect.
"Ha ha ha," Ginger laughed, "I'll bet you can't guess who." Everybody was in the proper spirit. It made the evening so much lovelier.
Alice went over to John and sat on his face, with her bush shoved up against his mouth. She thrust her pelvis in and out.
"Who?" I asked. Ginger's slit was hard in between my fingers.
"Wait, now," John said, "don't rush me. I know it's not you, doc, ha ha ha." He tongued Alice's hole and grabbed her asscheeks. "Don't rush me," he blubbered.
"Nobody's rushing," I said, "take all the time you like." As I finished my sentence I rolled back onto Ginger and without wasting a precious moment shoved my hard instrument in.
"Ooooh," said Ginger.
Her soft cuntlips were exquisite. My engine pummeled and pushed like mad. This soft creature was delicious. I leaned down and grabbed one of her nipples in my mouth and sucked hard on it.
"Hey," I heard Alice say, "come on. We haven't finished the game."
I lifted my head from Ginger's tit.
"Oh, shut up," I said, "just do your stuff and don't worry about a thing."
"Yeh," said John, who lifted off his blindfold, so he could see all of Alice's delights, "who wants to play any games?" and he rolled Alice off of him, got up between her legs and started eating her.
"You win," Alice said, flat on her back, getting the eating of her life. She tossed and turned like she was the winner.
All this time, I was thrusting my prick deeper and deeper into Ginger. She locked her legs around my neck and pulled my head back down to her tits. It was an evening made for love.
"Do it harder, doctor," Ginger begged.
I did it harder. As hard and as deep as I could. I bit bard on her nipples. Took big bites out of her fleshy, rolling tits. She was a dream girl. We bumped together, locked as one, sticky with the activity and heat of it all. My heart was pounding furiously, just as fast as my prick. Elvis Presley sang Heartbreak hotel, as I seemed to break new records inside this girl's flesh, deeper and deeper. I penetrated so deeply, I imagined my whole body falling inside her. My balls banged against the soft cheeks of her quivering ass. We kept time to Elvis, almost unconsciously.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice and John going at it. He had wasted no time. He had already stuck it in. God, did it excite me to see Alice getting it from someone else. His hairy ass shook and trembled, and those big balls of his smashed against Alice. Her legs were wide open, straight in the air. This was a Roman orgy.
My little cunt, just under me, was breathing hard, rolling her head, pulling at my hair. I bit into her neck, then licked the length of it gently. Hard and soft, gentle and strong, the sex books say. I got my tongue up into her ear while my pricked sloshed around deep inside her. Christ, was I about to come.
I lifted myself on my hands, so that except for my cock, our bodies didn't touch. Raised up that way, I watched Ginger's sweet body twist and shake. It was nice to see just what you were coming into. Tensing up momentarily, the floodgates finally loosed. I shot out a ton of liquid, each squirt more thrilling than the last. Ginger joined along. My first spurt had set her off and her arms and legs flew about wildly as the feeling got to her. It seemed like a full minute that each of us came. Ginger was as good as Jeannette had been. Maybe better.
I eased back down on her and checked on John and Alice. What perfect timing.
"Jesus Christ," John moaned. The two of them vibrated like an electric machine. John's big balls knocked furiously against Alice. Her nails dug deep into his back. Her legs kicked at the air. Together, faster and faster, they rose and fell till they reached the heights. Both tensed, then let loose. Alice cried aloud, John kept saying, "Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ." I wish I had taken my Polaroid out. I would have liked to save that scene. They stopped, and collapsed into 'each others arms. It was almost tender, and for a moment I felt jealous. But I put my head down and kissed Ginger on the lips and that sweetened everything, made everything better. It was a beautiful evening.
Alice got up, shaking her wonderful ass, and switched on the lights.
"Hey," said John.
"Change of scene," said Alice. "Let's all go into the bedroom and have ourselves a ball."
We all looked at her like she was crazy. Who the fuck had any energy left?
"Alice," I said, still atop Ginger, "that's enough for a while."
"I'm just getting started. Isn't there a man here who's man enough to take this precious bod of mine?" She spread her legs obscenely and spread her cuntlips. "Isn't there a man in the house?"
Who could respond. We were pooped. I don't know where Alice got her energy from.
"Nice soft tits for sale," she said, taking hold of them and holding them out. "Real cheap. Tell you. what. Suck 'em good and I won't charge a red cent."
We all looked. Yes, she was exciting. But we were all exhausted.
"Bunch of pussycats," Alice said. "We haven't even started!"
"Jesus Christ, I'm finished," said John.
"Me too, hon," I said. Alice didn't know how much energy I'd used up with Jeannette that morning. And for all I knew, John and Ginger had done it before they had even come over.
"Damn," said Alice, "Fuck and corruption. Here I am ready to go... and look at you two."
I had rolled off Ginger and was leaning my head on my elbow, looking up at her from the rug. John was laying back, with both arms behind his head. His cock stirred a little as he watched Alice. Ginger was on her stomach, her head resting on her hands, looking up amused.
"Men," said Alice, like she was disgusted. She leaned down and picked up the dildo. "I'll do it myself, then," she said.
Still standing, she managed the huge dildo up into her box and wiggled it around, her hips and pelvis following the rolling motion.
"Won't one of you guys at least suck on my tits while I do myself? What kind of party is this?"
"Okay, okay," said John. He got up, like he was reluctant to do so, but his hard prick told a different story. Alice's charms had turned him on again. Standing next to Alice, John bent down and took a tit in his mouth.
"Put one finger up my ass," Alice demanded, "I'm gonna get something out of this."
John was only too willing to respond. His finger went up her ass, out of our view.
"Okay, big boy, I'm worked up hot and good now," Alice said, turning the dildo a few times in her cunt, for good measure. "Now shove your prick up me."
Still standing, John faced her and grabbed her by the waist. Alice let the dildo drop to the floor. John wedged his big prick right up into her.
"Yeh," groaned Alice, "now that's more like it."
"Isn't this fun," I said casually to Ginger.
"Lots," she said, her attention focused on Alice and John.
Standing, the two of them smashed their bodies against each other. John's aggressiveness came out, and he had Alice's hair in his hands and was tugging her head back. Her small tits jumped around like they were dancing.
"Jesus Christ," John said.
"That's it baby," Alice said, "don't stop now."
He didn't. They pumped and bounced their bodies with precision, making a slapping noise every time they banged together. Alice arched her back as far as she could, and John hovered over her, with his hands now pulling and squeezing her asscheeks.
"I love to watch," I said to Ginger.
"Yes, it is fun," she said. I toyed with one of her dangling tits while Alice and John continued in their sexual frenzy.
Just before coming, John's weight was too much for Alice, and she fell over backwards, him on top. And from that very standard position, all hell broke loose. "Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ," John kept repeating. "Oh, baby," Alice groaned.
Like two spastics they shook and quivered as the orgasm came. And then they collapsed, like melted flesh, thoroughly exhausted.
"Okay, Alice, how 'bout you and me now?" I asked.
"Oh, fuck you," said Alice. Now she was too pooped to pop. In fact, the four of us just lay there on the rug -- sprawled out naked -- and sort of looked at everybody else wearily.
"Coffee?" Alice asked, still flat on her back, her legs spread open, exposing the goodies up there.
"Good idea," I said, "why don't you make some?"
"Why don't you, you lazy bastard," she said playfully. "The instant coffee is next to the peas on the first shelf. Be a duck and get it, won't you?"
What the hell. I struggled to get my weary self up, and went into the kitchen. In about five minutes I had everything prepared, like a nice little housewife. Doctor Morris Freid. Man of professional stature. Man of the house. The big bread winner. And I was serving the coffee. For a joke, I put Alice's apron on. It had little hearts and flowers all over it. I must have looked adorable. I put the coffee and some cookies Alice had-made on the tray, and returned to the living room.
"Boy, do you look stupid," said John.
"You are stupid," I retorted, but followed it with a laugh.
Sitting around in a circle -- all of us were naked, except me with my silly apron tied around me -- we drank coffee and munched cookies. It was a pleasant aftermath to an orgy.
"Do you two do this with other people?" Ginger asked.
"Sometimes," Alice said, sipping her coffee, "but not too much anymore. We did it a couple of times with my sister Bonnie and her boyfriend. But that was a couple of years ago. Now, we're awfully selective. There's just not that many nice people around. But you two are nice, though."
"Thanks," said John, "I really enjoyed tonight. I never would have guessed in a million years that we'd do what we did tonight. I still can't believe it."
"Pot helps you open up a little," I said. I looked at Ginger. "You really have nice tits, Ginger. No fooling. They're really nice."
"Thank you," she said, "John likes them, too."
"No reason to be selfish with nice things like that," I said, and I reached over and stroked one of her nipples till it hardened.
"Yes I really love her body," said John. "You've got a nice body, too, Alice."
"And you have a nice dong," Alice said. She reached over and squeezed it.
It was like The Merv Griffin Show. Everybody praised everybody.
"Maybe we can do this again," Alice said.
"Love to," John said. Ginger assented with a head nod.
"Doesn't this bother you, though... being a doctor?" John asked, "I mean do all doctors do things like this?"
"All doctors," I answered.
"I never imagined," said Ginger.
"Hey. Remember Dr. Minsky?" John said to Ginger. "Remember what you told me about him?"
"Oh, yeh."
"What?"' l asked.
Ginger put a cookie in her mouth, and crunched. "He stuck his stethoscope up my vagina."
"Tell them what he told you, honey."
"He said he could hear my heart better that way. Something about the echo from the inside of your body."
"Ha. And she believed him, too," said John.
"Well, he was a doctor," Ginger said. "I didn't know he was fooling around with me."
"Perfectly disgusting," I said.
"You never did anything like that, did you?" John asked me.
"On my honor," I said, and I held my right hand up, with a cookie in it. "Although... I've been tempted. But you know... ethics. We doctors have to be very careful about things like that. You fool around with the wrong gal... and boom... your ass ends up in a sling.
"If I ever thought you fooled around like that, I'd divorce you," Alice said, and she leaned over and nibbled my ear.
"Never."
"But just having the opportunity," said John, "I mean, having all those dolls strip down in front of you. Doesn't that get you horny? Jesus Christ. I wish I was a doctor. I'd have me some real fun. The bank is soooo boring."
"He's a psychiatrist," said Alice. "He doesn't get the opportunity to see all those bodies. He doesn't deal with people's bodies. He deals with their minds. That's not exactly sexually stimulating. Is it, bon'?" She pecked my cheek with a little kiss.
"Sexually stimulating? Talking to patients about their childhoods? Talking to patients about how they hate their parents? How they constantly think about suicide. About how ugly they are? How stupid they are? Haw many unbearable problems they have? If I thought that was sexually stimulating, I'd have to have my head examined.
"Wow," said John, "it really sounds boring to me. Having all those troubled people to listen to every day. I don't know how you can stand it. But I'll tell you. Maybe you'd rather work in a bank. I could get you in The Management Training Program. $6500 to start. Guaranteed raise of $500 in the first year if your supervisor thinks you've got the stuff. I got my $500 just last week. I can sure use the money."
"'Fraid not," I said, "not interested. I find my work too stimulating."
"All that talking?" Ginger asked. "It's interesting. Not sexually stimulating. But interesting."
"Even without sex," Alice said.
"Even without sex," I agreed.
It was around midnight when Ginger and John left. We made plans to get together sometime the following week.
This was not the evening to tell Alice about Jeannette. I don't know where Alice and I got the energy, but we managed one more fuck before going to sleep. As I started dozing off, my model patient who I'd be seeing tomorrow, swayed nakedly before me.
"Oh, I'm a nymph, Dr. Freid. Help me. Do me. Quickly."
I don't know where I got the energy, but I did.