Chapter 12
It was two evenings later that the hippies from upstairs invited Wiffie, Hamp and Peter to their pad. It was a going away party. Several of the transients were leaving the apartment to set up a crash pad of their own, and the two hippies who had been acting as their hosts thought it would be groovy to send them off in style.
It was the first time that Wiffie, Hamp or Peter had tried grass. Oh, Peter had come close in the Army; lots of the guys had smoked the stuff, but somehow he'd never gotten around to it. He supposed it was because no one had ever come right out and invited him to try it; he had been a chaplain's assistant, after all. As for Hamp and Wiffie, neither had come near the weed in their Christ-centered lives; they knew next to nothing about marijuana.
Peter and Hamp were eager to try grass, but
Wiffie was slightly reluctant. "What happens when you smoke it?" she asked nervously. "I mean, you don't lose all control of yourself and behave like some drunken maniac, do you?"
"Hell, no," said one of the hippies, who was called Jerk because he had a tendency to masturbate when high. "You just become more aware of everything around you. Booze lowers your awareness, but grass heightens it."
And so, finally, everyone smoked it. One of the hippies lit several joints and passed them out, and they shared them in pairs. The host hippies, Jerk and Mabel, shared one joint, two homosexuals named Sam and Gus shared another, Peter and a rather ugly girl with blackheads smoked a third, while Hamp and Wiffie shared a fourth.
Wiffie seemed to be affected the fastest. After several deep drags, she felt herself floating off, kind of like being woozy, but-as Jerk had said-more aware of her surroundings than not. And yet she didn't feel as though she were in complete control of herself; she was thoroughly aware of what was happening, but there were so many curious distractions. She did find that her inhibitions were beginning to vanish, and that she felt freer than usual. She was willing to let Hamp fondle her in public-something she would never have allowed had she been in complete control of her faculties.
Hamp too was soon feeling the effects of the grass. He found himself wanting to touch Wiffie, and that was precisely what he did. He let his hand creep up beneath her skirt to stroke her thigh. In a moment he was touching the crotch of her panties, tickling the curly hairs that crept out at the leg openings of the skimpy briefs. He noticed that she wasn't trying to discourage him, and this spurred him on. He let one finger drift past one of the leg elastics, pushing the material aside and beginning to fondle her hair-strewn outer lips.
No one else seemed aware of what Hamp and Wiffie were up to. They were too involved with their own preoccupations; Jerk sat with his fly open, contemplating his stiffened penis and stroking it slowly while Mabel played with his balls. The fags were lying side by side, passing a fresh joint back and forth and giggling as they prodded each other with fluttery hands. Peter was watching intently as the ugly chick removed her sweater and revealed braless, pendulous breasts; at her behest, he reached out and caressed her nipples, following up with suckling of each tit. But he seemed less than engrossed by this action, though he was obviously interested in the girl somehow, staring at her as though considering a potential canvas.
Hamp looked at Jerk and Mabel again. Jerk had stopped masturbating and was sitting in lotus position while Mabel sucked his cock. At first she merely held the head between her lips and caressed it gently with her tongue, but as Jerk began to groan softly, she took him deeper in her mouth and sucked harder, at the same time pushing her hands under his buckskin shirt and locking them behind his back.
The fags were now engaged in similar activity. They were in sixty-nine position, each playing with the cock of the other; one sucked his companion's prick while the other was licking his friend's penis in a dog-like manner, seeming to savor each seminal dribble that emanated from the organ's tip.
Peter was still staring at the ugly girl, who by now was completely nude and standing in front of him, her hand at her crotch, slowly caressing her clit and squeezing her fingers between tightly closed, flabby thighs. Peter didn't touch her; he merely watched. His penis was still in his trousers, but revealed its excited state in a highly noticeable bulge.
By now, Hamp and Wiffie were completely stoned. Wiffie was lying down and did not protest when Hamp pushed her skirt up around her waist and pulled her panties down to her ankles, then yanked them off and pushed her legs apart so he could suck and tongue her loins. After a few minutes of this, he knelt in front of Wiffie, pulling her to a sitting position and removing her blouse. Finally he removed her bra.
Wiffie seemed unaware of his actions, or at least unconcerned. She let him do as he wished, behaving like an automaton, thoroughly caught up in whatever it was that the marijuana had brought to her mind.
After a few minutes of kissing her breasts, Hamp pushed her back down and unzipped her skirt, then pulled the garment off so that she wore nothing but her half slip. He returned to her crotch, parting the lips with his fingers and tonguing the clit carefully, sending shivers of response through Wiffie's body. She stiffened and grasped his head in her hands, pulling his face harder against her crotch as he continued to lick her labia and clit in a slow, and rhythmic manner.
A few minutes later, Hamp unzipped his fly and let his cock stand free. He slipped his pants off, then moved up on Wiffie's body and guided his penis into her vestibule, where it rested for a moment in the slick bath of her love juices. Then he pushed it in, slowly, and Wiffie swallowed it up until the full length of the shaft was buried in the sweet cave of her cunt. She seemed unaware of any pain or discomfort as Hamp pressed it in until his pubic hair was buried in the moisture of her quivering love lips.
They began to fuck in a leisurely manner; slowly at first, but gradually building to a faster pace, moving their hips back and forth to the rhythm of Jerk's mounting sighs. As their ardor increased, Wiffie wrapped her legs around Hamp's back, just above the buttocks, and slowly worked them upward on his back, bringing the angle of her cunt more and more to the vertical, with Hamp adjusting the angle of his strokes accordingly. In due course his hips were well above the floor, his legs were slightly spread to give a firmer base to his steady fucking.
Suddenly Hamp felt spit-laden fingers part his buttocks and lather his anal opening. He started at first, but then heard Wiffie moan with excitement, and began to fuck her faster, trying to concentrate on the tightening grasp of her cunt. A moment later, he felt excruciating pain as a penis was forced into his ass, distending his virgin anus and filling his rectal cavity with its swollen shaft.
Hamp shoved his cock deeper into Wiffie's cunt and froze for a moment, crying out in pain. But the alien prick only pushed deeper as Hamp involuntarily spread his thighs; and as he loosened his anal sphincter in an instinctive effort to ease the pain, the member moved still deeper, then stopped and lay still, as though waiting for Hamp to make the next move.
Hamp felt Wiffie pull back slightly, then push her cunt forward once more on his still-hard prick. Aroused, he resumed his fucking, half aware of Wiffie's cunt and half concentrating on the foreign flesh buried in the depths of his ass. He tried to take his mind off the offending member, but without success. However, as the pain seemed to lessen with each additional stroke, he grew somewhat resigned to its presence and let it move in and out of his anal depths as he moved his own member in Wiffie's quivering cunt. After a while the rhythm of the moles tor's prick became almost pleasant; Hamp found that his ass was accomodating the organ with less reluctance, and that his sphincter muscles had managed to relax thoroughly, causing less resistance. He found himself warming to the movement of the penis which was steadily reaming with his rectum, and he established a compatible rhythm in Wiffie's vagina. There was something charmingly communal about the sandwich-like situation; he felt oddly secure, with a body beneath him and another above him, both moving against him. It made him feel more wanted than ever before.
A few minutes later, Hamp's anus tightened on the other man's cock and shuddered in a series of orgasmic spasms; at the same time, his penis reached a peak of sensation in Wiffie's cunt and began to spurt seed to the depths of her womb. Wiffie responded with a series of uncontrollable contractions; her vagina twitched about Hamp's prick in a seemingly endless climax, and when her movements finally subsided, he felt the organ in his ass-hole pouring its hoard of creamy liquid into him.
When the man had finished, Hamp felt the organ slipping out, leaving a sticky trail in the vestibule of his anal opening. Hamp moved off Wiffie and turned halfway around, to find himself staring at Peter.
He was stunned.
Peter seemed almost equally confused, but patted Hamp's hip affectionately and opened his mouth to speak.
"Love," he said "I.. .I love you, man. I love you for what you do to Wiffie, and for everything else." Peter's mouth widened in a silly grin.
Hamp didn't speak. He just looked from Peter to Wiffie, and back to Peter again. Wiffie was thoroughly pleased with the result of their fucking; with one hand she stroked Hamp's thigh.
A moment later, Jerk came over with a freshly lit joint, and handed it to Hamp, who inhaled the dry smoke and passed the cigarette to Wiffie. She puffed lightly and handed it back; Peter reached out, and Hamp found himself giving him the joint.
"Love," Peter said again, squeezing Hamp's arm lightly.
"Yeah." Hamp was still confused. He looked at Wiffie, and noticed that her crotch was still exposed. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her sticky bush with it, then pulled her half slip down and covered her breasts with her skirt, which lay nearby.
The three of them rested there for a while without conversation. They passed the joint back and forth till Hamp at last had to throw it down to keep the glowing butt from burning his fingers.
Later that night, the three new potheads went to bed in a solemn mood; there was little talk, only the necessary good-nights, and Hamp's kissing Wiffie lightly on the lips. None of them knew quite what to make of the activities of the evening, but each knew instinctively that the best course was to simply go to sleep, and if necessary talk things out in the morning.
Wiffie was least concerned of the three. She had no worries about sodomy or homosexuality; what the men did was their own affair, really; as long as both were potent with her, she considered them masculine enough. She knew the strength of their pricks well enough to have no fears.
Peter was in between. He was perhaps the most broad minded where sex was concerned; he had painted children of both sexes, and was something of a bohemian in any case. To him, morality had little to do with sex: the important thing was love, and to avoid prejudice and violence. As long as Wiffie seemed to have no qualms about his activities with Hamp, Peter wasn't particularly worried. His main fear was that Hamp would hold a grudge against him, resulting in unpleasantness all around. Hamp was seriously worried. He had been raised in a strictly traditional Christian environment where one did not even think about homosexuality. To fuck or not to fuck was the big question; homosexual activities were something engaged in only by secular, totally lost perverts. Hamp couldn't help feeling guilty about what had happened.
And yet he could console himself with the knowledge that Peter had initiated the activity with his forcible anal penetration. Hamp had been busy with Wiffie; he could hardly have been expected to be on guard against a homosexual attack. Furthermore, he had brought Wiffie to orgasm, had he not? Regardless of Peter's act and Hamp's involuntary enjoyment of it, Hamp was essentially heterosexual.
Furthermore, he had read that most young males-a good many, anyhow-had one or two homosexual experiences before reaching full adulthood. It was right there in Kinsey's report on the human male, which Hamp had read in the Anti-Smut Society's library. Also, even the heterosexually oriented books in the society's library contained elements of homosexuality, as well as just about everything else that one could imagine. This was not the result of perversion on the part of the authors; such books reflected society more than it influenced it. Human beings had elements of sadism, masochism, incest-longing and so on. And all men had elements of homosexuality in their personalities, just as they had both male and female hormones in their bodies. It wasn't unreasonable to expect that a practicing heterosexual might enjoy a bit of variety now and then.
In short, Hamp felt guilty, but not guilty enough to move out of the apartment or automatically rule out similar activities in the future. If this was what marijuana brought out, so be it; if the erasing of inhibitions and the accentuation of natural tendencies led to an occasional bisexual experience, Hamp wouldn't condemn himself for the effects of the grass he had smoked. He might feel ashamed of himself on a purely emotional level, but in more rational moments he would know that there was no real cause for guilt.
Hamp and Peter didn't talk to each other the next morning; it was as though Peter was waiting for Hamp to make up his mind on how to resolve the situation. Hamp decided to let things ride; soon enough they would find out if such activities would occur a second time.
It was Peter who finally broke the ice. That evening, he asked if Hamp would mind his using Wiffie for a body painting.
"Do you want to?" Hamp asked Wiffie, trying to be open minded.
"Yes." Wiffie took his hand and squeezed it, then kissed him lightly on the lips as if to show her loyalty.
"All right, then. I guess it's okay with me."
Peter thanked him, and crossed the room to mix his paints. He discreetly kept his back to Hamp and Wiffie as the girl removed her clothing.
And when he set to work, he was careful not to paint Wiffie's nipples or genitalia, not wanting to upset Hamp any more than necessary. Hamp seemed to realize this, and he paid Peter a compliment to show his appreciation.
"That's a nice job," he said as he viewed the back.
"Thank you." Peter was genuinely pleased. After a while, Peter turned to Hamp. "What would you think if I asked you to pose?" he asked.
"It's for the sake of art," Peter explained. "And friendship. I'll stop, if you change your mind halfway through."
"Well, all right." Slowly and self-consciously, Hamp removed his clothes. Then he stood next to Wiffie, who reached out and squeezed his hand. He tried not to jump when Peter touched the brush to his back and smeared paint over his shoulders and down to the cleft of his buttocks.
Involuntarily, and to his great embarrassment, Hamp felt his penis growing hard. He shifted position and straightened up slightly, hoping somehow to get the partial erection to subside.
"It's all right," Wiffie said softly, smiling and reaching out to touch the expanding organ. "There's nothing wrong with reacting physically. It's normal, Hamp."
"I suppose so." He blushed and looked down to watch as Wiffie caressed his organ.
After a while, Wiffie beckoned to Peter and took the brush from him. Kneeling, she began to paint the knob of Hamp's penis, eventually adding a stripe from the cleft of the head to the base of the shaft. Hamp shuddered as the brush tickled the sensitive underside of his cock.
Then Wiffie handed the brush to Hamp and lay down on the floor, lifting and parting her thighs. "Paint me down there," she commanded in a soft voice.
Hamp obeyed, kneeling between her legs and applying the brush to her. labia and clit. When she moaned and pulled him down on top of her, he obliged her bv slipping his penis into her juice filled hole, and after a moments hesitation he parted his thighs and raised his buttocks slightly, so that Peter, who was now kneeling behind him, could place his saliva-lubed prick against Hamp's anus and ease it in.
The three of them moved together excitedly, and when they came it was a tremendous three-way climax.
Afterward, they lay on the floor with Wiffie in the middle, each man embracing her loosely and sharing in the communal spiritual bliss.