Chapter 1
It was cool. A gentle summer breeze played with the leaves on the big eucalyptus trees that lined Mulholland Drive as Roger eased the Lincoln Continental to the side of the road, set the emergency brake, and pulled Denise to him. In the dim light of the moon she accepted his lips eagerly, purring and parting her legs as he kissed her breasts through her blouse and stroked her dampening mound through her panties. In a moment they parted and, smiling, Roger said, "You sure you won't get jealous? This party's going to get pretty wild."
"I've never been to a sex orgy, but you know I'm game for anything. Just watch out for yourself. When you see two guys slipping it to me, how are you going to like it?"
Roger studied her. In a way, she was right. He didn't know how he would feel under those circumstances. She was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever known and she did everything right. That's why they planned to be married. In bed, she was a skilled courtesan who satisfied every need and desire he had ever imagined. In public, she was a showpiece-poised and every inch unstudied perfection. He wondered why he was bringing her to Gene's and Rita's orgy affair. He wondered if she wasn't too good to share. It was her insistence that this party would provide some kind of proof that they could live the "conventional" married life and still remain "contemporary" that had influenced him.
It began when she had seen the invitation at his apartment, two weeks ago. They had been living together only a little more than a month, but already Denise had displayed a tendency to snoop. The invitation had shown a picture of a house falling apart, along with the words: BRING YOUR THING TO RITA'S AND GENE'S FOR A CRAZY WEEKEND. FRIDAY, JULY 10, 8:00 P.M. UNTIL???
Roger had told Denise that it was merely an invitation to a party he didn't particularly want to attend, but she had pursued the matter persistently and finally he had given in because, as she said, "Now that we're living together, don't you think I should .meet some of your kooky friends?"
So here they were-listening to the music and the laughter of the party wafting up the steep driveway from the house below.
In her own special way, Denise deftly unzipped his fly and began stroking his throbbing erection. "Ummm," she said, fondling his cock affectionately, squeezing and stroking. "I don't see why we can't prime ourselves for what lies ahead. Just a teensy weensy taste? What's really going to happen here, anyway? Will there be boys with boys and girls with girls, or what?"
Her head was in his lap then, engulfing his penis with her wet-warm mouth. He put his head back on the seat and palmed her cheek as she tongued the head of his prick, then moved lower, settling into a rhythm that nearly drove him crazy with pleasure. Still, he knew he had to save himself. He stopped her finally, then unhooked her bra, removed it, and tossed it in the back seat. With one hand, he slid his finger beneath her panties and gently ran it up and down her dripping cunt, then fondled her juicy clit while his mouth nibbled at her nipples, tantalizing them with his teeth, the way she liked it.
Now it was her turn to call a stop. "Roger, Oh, Roger... please stop. You're right. We- we better save ourselves."
They both sat there for a moment, panting.
"Seriously," she asked again, "what do they actually do at these parties? You've been here before. What happens?"
Roger found Denise's attempts to probe his past and her complete candor slightly unnerving at times. He had been only to two parties at Gene's and Rita's and, somehow, he resented the implication that he was an orgy expert. Deep down, too, he didn't know how he would react when other men began touching and tasting Denise's precious body. He was violating the cardinal rule, he knew-yes, violating the unspoken orgy code-but he could not help thinking that Denise was his own special possession. Somehow, the secret and delicious things they did together, he yearned to keep all for himself. But she had insisted on coming, and what the hell? It was totally impersonal, wasn't it? It was the going thing. Everybody was going the sex-swap route. Grow up, he told himself.
"Well, it's mostly heterosexual," he said now, in answer to her question. "Sometimes girls with girls," he said, "but I've never seen guys making it with each other."
He didn't tell her that their hostess, Rita, sometimes took a liking to a girl-particularly one who had never had lesbian experience-and delighted in indoctrinating her. He hoped Rita didn't pick his Denise, but Gene and Rita Rawls were capable of anything and, judging from the weird invitation, the party promised to be different in some way or other. There you go, he thought again, you're acting like some kind of naive prude.
Gene was a builder-a washout in college. Roger had met him in college. Now, lean and trim, it was the height of irony that he made an enormously successful living building houses entirely by himself. Except for touches, like plumbing and electricity, he constructed high-priced residences, perhaps only two or three houses each year, but the profit he made earned him far more than the average, upcoming executive, and his living standard proved it. He had lovely Rita, too, a true sex bomb with a fantastic body and haunting, green eyes, for his wife.
Roger caught Denise by the wrist as she made a grab for his crotch again. "No you don't!" he said. "We'll never get out of the car! You and Rita are two of a kind. Come on, let's go to the party."
Denise giggled. "Whatever you say, master. I just want to get firsts-before all those sex-crazed broads start grabbing and munching on your lovely cock. Don't you want to nibble on my pussy a little? Don't you think we should get primed some more?"
"Primed!" Roger exclaimed. "I'm one big, sticky mess now! Besides, with this gang you won't need it. Priming will be totally unnecessary, I assure you." He got out and opened her door.
"Killjoy," she said, pouting, her taffy blonde locks in slight disarray as she stepped onto the gravel.
As they went arm in arm down the steep driveway toward the sounds of merriment, what Roger had suspected about the party seemed to be true. The large, two-story house in which Gene and Rita Rawls lived was in darkness, while the smaller, shacklike structure in back was brightly lit. Almost a year ago, Gene had told him of his plan to have a housewrecking party someday. It would be, Gene had said, a tribute to the fact that he had "made it" without the necessary qualifications to be an architect.
When Gene had first begun building houses, he had bought this huge lot here in the Hollywood Hills and built a small, temporary house for himself and Rita to live in while he worked on the main house. Now, with a fat bank account and the huge, main house completed, he obviously intended to make good his original plan. The now-flush couple were undoubtedly throwing this party to tear down the old, temporary house.
Pastel lights played on the exquisite landscaping and a huge, kidney-shaped swimming pool as Roger and Denise made their way to the smaller house in back. Roger knocked on the door. In a moment the door flung open and Rita, wearing bright purple pants and nothing at all on top, screamed a greeting through the blaring music and the heavy aroma of marijuana.
"Roger, baby! You made it! Hey, everybody -Frank Lloyd Wright is here! Come on in! Help spread the sperm! Spread the sperm, I say! Let it gush! Eager cunts await you!"
Rita cradled Roger's head briefly against her bare breasts, then, holding a very short and smoldering joint daintily between her thumb and forefinger, she turned to Denise, inspecting her from head to toe. "And this delectable thing with the nice tits," she yelled, "what is her name?"
Roger introduced her to Denise and they stepped inside, where the introductions continued. The room was alive with couples as they stepped inside-couples in various stages of undress sprawling everywhere-couples smoking grass, drinking wine and embracing passionately. It was early yet. Soon, Roger knew, they would all be naked, writhing, spasming toward sexual fulfillment in every conceivable (and some inconceivable) position their vivid imaginations could conjure up.
One young man lay in the corner, with only his pants off, lying on his back while two girls worshipfully kissed and fondled his pulsing, engorged rod. A third girl lay with her head on the man's stomach, wetting her lips with her tongue, waiting for him to ejaculate into her eager, pleading mouth. At the same time, the man lapped at the crotch of another girl who crouched over his face, as though performing a deep-knee bend, and moved her cunt violently all over his face. She seemed in a trance as she tried to swallow his entire head up into her saliva-wet vagina. At first, Roger could not hear her, only see her pleading mouth forming words, but then the music stopped abruptly and her voice-pitiful with pleasure-resounded through the room.
"All of it... all of it... oh, yes, suck it all, baby... ahhhhh... my beautiful baby's mouth... "
The music started again and Rita redirected her attention again to Denise. "Beautiful, aren't they?" she said. "We should have these parties every weekend." Roger noticed that Denise's cheeks had pinkened slightly at the sight that had greeted their entrance.
"Yes-uh-very nice," Denise answered stoically. Roger stifled a laugh with his hand at her reaction. Despite her claim that nothing would shock her, he knew this scene had caught her totally by surprise.
Rita asked Denise her birth date and seemed delighted that she was a Scorpio. "Ah, a Scorpio," she said, raising her eyebrows and cupping her breasts in her hands. "The sex sign of the zodiac. Marvelous!"
Still clasping her naked breasts, Rita turned and addressed the group. "Dears, the last of the guests have arrived. Now we can dim the lights." She followed Roger's and Denise's gaze to the group making love in the corner. "Yes, they're coming along just fine, aren't they? Soon the nice boy will ejaculate and we can ring the bell! Hurrah! Spread the sperm!"
"The bell?" Denise asked.
"Yes, darling," Rita said. "It's a house rule. The first oral orgasm of the evening gets a bell." She pointed to a large bell mounted on the wall. There was a toy party-type horn, too. "And then, of course, there's the horn. We honk the horn for the first conventional orgasm. You know-like the Academy Awards. Ladies and gentlemen, the nominee for the best oral orgasm by a supporting seductress is-the envelope, please... "
Gene came over then. "Roger, baby," he said. "Better go and get yourself a joint and a party favor. Plenty of grass for everybody, and hammers and crowbars, too-with ribbons around them. There's one with your name on it-over on that table."
Roger led Denise over to the table and found a hammer and crowbar with his name on it. "I guess these are for later," he said.
"What does she mean by 'conventional orgasm'?" Denise asked.
"You know," Roger said. "Fucking instead of sucking."
"Oh," Denise said. "Yes-yes, of course. Fucking."
Just then, Rita began yelling frantically and raced to the bell. "Attention! Attention!" she cried. "We have a man about to come there in the corner. We're about to have our first orgasm of the evening. Attention all!"
Roger followed Denise's hypnotic gaze to the corner, where the girls now increased their tempo and manipulations on the squirming man's testicles and stiff prick. Briefly, the man withdrew his face from the crotch of the girl squatting over him. His expression was of intense rapture. His eyes bulged as he reached up and gripped the head of the girl whose mouth worked greedily on his rigid shaft. He appeared about to have a fit. His head and hands trembled, then his entire body shuddered and he began bucking to achieve his climax. Finally, he stiffened, emitted a long groan and collapsed, panting, spasming out the aftermath while the girl's tempo slowed. At that instant, the girl who had been waiting with her head on the man's stomach pushed the first girl away and took the still-rigid organ into her mouth. She kneaded at his testicles, coaxing, whimpering, the indentations in her cheeks working... finishing up. A third girl then pushed her away and repeated the act.
"Good girls!" Rita congratulated, her green eyes aflame-fascinated. She clapped her hands and others joined in the applause. "That's the way to stay with 'em, girls." She addressed the entire group and clanged the bell. "See, the girls didn't even use a tissue. They stayed right with it. Good girls! Good girls!"
There were scattered cheers and the raising of wine glasses in tribute while Rita continued to spur them on, like a cheerleader.
"Give the girls a brief rest and they'll be ready for another hardy male. Remember, though, they're a team, men. Yolanda, Patti, and Doris like to work together. Spread the sperm, I say. Spread that sperm!" Rita turned to Roger. "How about you, Rog? Want to be next?"
Roger studied Denise, who seemed stunned but fascinated with the activities. "Maybe later," he said.
In a moment, Gene came over and stood beside him. "What a hostess!" he said, beaming in admiration for his wife. "Isn't she great? Listen, Rog, be sure and sample her wares tonight, will you? She's in rare form and, besides, I think she's hot for your prong. Take my word for it, baby. Oh, but just do me one favor and stay away from that brunette, will you?" He pointed toward a beautiful and innocent-looking girl-probably the youngest at the party. "Her name's Greta and she's never seen this kind of action before. Naturally, I'd like to be the first to sample her snatch. Ummmm," he moaned softly, "the things I have planned for her!"
"Sure," Roger said. "She's all yours."
"Say, isn't that Marty something?" Gene said.
Roger saw that he referred to the young man who had achieved the first oral orgasm of the evening.
"I don't know what he's got," Gene said, wagging his head. "It isn't his size, as you can see, but honest to God, all the broads want to go down on him. It's fantastic."
"Maybe it's his angelic face," Denise said. "He looks sort of pitiful-you know, like a sailor just off the ship."
Roger didn't like admitting it to himself, but he found Denise's sudden acceptance of the party slightly disconcerting. Was it his imagination, or were her eyes darting about the room in search of a partner? He guessed that there were sixteen people in attendance. Yes, there were eight males and eight females. The thought occurred to him that if Yolanda, Patti, and Doris continued to work as a team, some male might be deprived. Maybe not. It was going to be a long weekend and anything could happen. In fact, it probably would.