Chapter 5
I can't believe this, King thinks.
Not that Rhino would fuck Francine in the ass, of course; that is an attractive enough target under any and all circumstances.
What he cannot believe is that Rhino would be so inaccurate in his attentions to her ass hole.
Because he could use mineral or baby oil, he could merely wet a finger, he could smear Vaseline on his cock.
But no, he is right in there, rimming her, sucking her ass hole.
Even though, from time to time, King can very clearly feel a lip or even the tip of Rhino's tongue on his cock.
It is an accident, of course.
But nevertheless, it happens.
And not just once, either.
Because King can feel it, again and again. And so, he knows, can Rhino.
Still, the bulk of Rhino's oral attentions are focussed on Francine's bung.
Getting her ready.
Or perhaps merely doing this because he wants to.
And this last certainly appears to be the case.
Because he tarries there, lingering in his attentions, letting his head go round and round, matching the motion of Francine's hips.
And there is no way he can get his tongue very far inside her ass hole, not with the pressure exerted on it from within, through the narrow barrier of tissues separating the two cavities of vagina and rectum from one another, by King's prodigious prod.
So that he is mostly confined to sucking her protruding bung, chewing it gently, running his tongue around and around over its surface, probing the hole itself but not entering, unable to do so as the great cock within her cunt presses her rectum shut.
And now, Rhino withdraws.
Looking to one side, King can see him taking a bottle of some kind from the drawer of one of the large, featureless nightstands which flank the bed.
Lubricant, obviously, King thinks, mineral , or baby oil.
He cannot see Rhino, only his hand, which disappears from view with the bottle, only to reappear a minute later, setting it down on the nightstand.
And now, Francine is interrupting her rotating motion, the reaming of her cunt with King's regal equipment.
And, bracing herself on her knees, planted either side of King as she straddles him, raises up, up, up.
So that now, only the head of his mighty invader is inside her hot, juicy pussy.
So that the pressure on her rectum of the great cock is relieved.
So that Rhino can- Enter her.
In one smooth movement, he has buttoned his plum of a knob inside her ass hole and spiralled into her ass, all the way.
And now, she settles back down on King's prick.
And both men feel the underside of the other's cock, traversing his own, narrowly separated from each other.
And somehow, this seems more intimate with Rhino than with Francine.
With Francine who has allowed herself, for whatever reason, or perhaps for no real reason at all, to be thus used.
Okay, bitch, King thinks, you asked for it.
Two big cocks, fore and aft, filling and stretching her.
He could tear her up.
He could-tear up their chances for competition. No way is he going to injure her, not if he can help it.
Because, to do so is to injure their performance.
So that she is all the more foolish, or careless, or whatever, for indulging Rhino in this peculiar and unnecessary fashion.
And yet, in the event, she seems to be taking it, meaning taking the two of them, very well.
Because now Rhino, being top man, has control of the action.
So that, while she is powerful enough to rotate her hips, even with Rhino on top of her, it is doubtful that she could do so with the ease and comfort so necessary if arousal is to be a smooth ascent.
Rather, in this position, this situation, it is the top man who, together with the bedsprings, controls the action.
And this is in fact the case.
And Rhino is apparently quite the expert. Because he begins slowly, very much in charge. Bouncing up and down, barely moving his hips.
And yet, the bedsprings seem to have a mind of their own.
Because now, the two thick, vibrant pistons begin to pump, alternating their movements.
So that an observer, watching from the foot of the bed, would see their cocks alternate, appearing and disappearing in mechanical sequence, gl' -tening with pussy juice below, mineral oil abo .
As the two sets of big balls seem to drive them with this see-saw motion.
And both cunt and ass hole are rounded pink- lipped mouths which devour and suck, devour and suck both cocks at once, as though her pelvis were some kind of double-mouthed monster.
And Rhino accelerates the motion, simply by bouncing a little harder.
So that it all seems really quite effortless.
As though the three of them were naturally meant to fuck this way. As though they are floating, the three of them, through some erotic world, surreal in its mixture of real elements, unrealistically juxtaposed.
It is not a thing that King .has done before.
Of Francine he is unsure, but Rhino is definitely a repeater and an expert.
And King finds himself relaxing, enjoying it. Why not?
After all, between Rhino, Francine, and the bedsprings, what more active motion is needed?
So that he is indeed floating.
And only a small comer of his mind still resents Rhino.
Who has proven himself correct. Again. And as usual.
Why fight it at all? King asks himself, all incipient arousal, the warmth spreading over his body.
Accept, accept, accept, the voice within him, the voice through which his body sometimes speaks to him, whispers.
And King does.
So that now, despite the fact that he is bottom man, he is weightless.
Rather, the three of them are.
Orientation has become skewed.
King is indeed on the bottom, indeed looking up. But they are suspended in space, the ceiling but one, arbitrary view.
And the intensity, the focus of what is happening is down below.
Down below, where King's cock fucks Francine.
Down below, where he can feel the bottom of Rhino's cock, its pressure, the distortion of its assigned cavity and orifice by his cock and Rhino's.
And yes, there is communication here, a three-way communication, messages, groups of sensations, flying back and forth, round and round, among and between them.
And King knows that this is certainly one very valid form of sexual intercourse, as valid as anything he has done before, even with Francine.
And in fact more valid than most, requiring less by way of internal images, thosle security blankets of the sexual act which so many, himself included under other circumstances, seen to require, if they are to perform well or even adequately.
Because there is about this the same thing he has noticed with Francine alone.
Which is a sense of completeness.
Because it is all right hero, right now, requiring no supplementation.
Nothing need be added.
Nor is there distraction, something to be taken away.
It is what it is, complete but not to excess, elaborate but not to the point of confusion.
And he finds it difficult to believe that he is actually looking forward to doing this again, and that without having yet completely done it the first time.
But he has found an enthusiasm which surprises himself.
Still, it was the mind which objected; the body knew better all along.
Because even now, he feels the tingling, the sexual excitement, the electricity that for him marks the beginning of meaningful, as opposed to -perfunctory, sex.
In and out, in and out goes Rhino's cock. Which is perceived by King, by King's body, as an added dimension of Francine's cunt.
So that he has never felt this exact sensation before.
He has never had a cunt which seems to be licking the bottom of his prick even as it sucks and devours him.
And the sensation is exquisite, as though he is fucking a- humanoid from another planet.
And now, they are climbing the rainbow together, the three of them.
Higher and higher they rise.
It rises. The ensemble.
Because there is nothing holding them down, not even the bottom man, King. Rather, they are zooming and soaring through the realms of their shared sexual paradise.
And they are dizzy, disoriented, knowing neither up nor down.
As the bedsprings continue their mechanical work of accentuating Rhino's pumping.
So that they are riding the crest of a rushing floodtide.
They are inundated, permeated with the pleasure which swells within the three of them.
And once more, delight turns to ecstasy, ecstasy becomes rapture.
And they are transported here and there, zooming and soaring, now floating dreamily, now going at the speed' of light.
And now, they feel it, the pleasure beyond pleasure.
As it takes them over completely.
As it blows their safety valves.
And they are coming and coming, the men injecting, their jism into her, fore and aft, their bouncing notion causing their mighty cocks to force their creatout of cunt and ass hole, where it forms pearlescent rings around the meat pistons, then begins to run down onto King's balls.
As the spasms of Francine's multiple orgasms are felt in both places, twinge after twinge affecting vagina and rectum.
And they collapse together, sandwiched, as they finish their shared climax.
And they lie there, recovering their breath, now feeling the after-effects of what seemed effortless when they were in the throes of their passion.
And Rhino looks over Francine's shoulder at King, smiling faintly.
And King looks back at him, expressionless.
What can I say? King thinks. That he was right again, that he has once more demonstrated that he has whole areas of knowledge of which I have no inkling?
Stupid, really.
King has concentrated on proving that a black man is just as smart as a white one, that he is his equal in every regard, if not his superior.
And here's this Rhino.
Who has shown him the other side of the coin. Ability and stature are indeed independent of race.
And because this is so, it works the other way around.
Because here is a man who seems able to beat him at his own game.
And it has nothing to do with his being white. Rather, it has to do with background, with experience.
Yes, King thought he knew all . about the body, about its development, its pleasures.
And yet, here's this Rhino who seems to possess a knowledge far more comprehensive than his own. And even has the results to show for it.
So that it would seem that King is not as far along in his personal development as he thought. The brother still has a ways to go, he tells himself. And this disturbs him.
Because he does not fall for that line touted by those who style themselves leaders of the so-called black community.
He has no interest in being equal.
Equality is for inferiors.
He does not want equality; rather, he wants what anybody who intends to rise in the world is after, namely, superiority.
The man who just wants to be equal deserves to have his face stepped on.
Because it is nothing but a cheap, shabby trick, played on the hapless black by his presumed protectors and mentors, who are themselves are striving for a position of superiority.
And succeeding only too well, at the expense of their ignorant brethren.
And it was in fact King's outrage at this very phenomenon which first caused him to look in other directions for the handling of his imputed "racial problem".
So that there was very heavy symbolism indeed at work in his decision to build his body, to do that which, more than any other area of human endeavor, literally adds to the stature of a man, any man, regardless of his color.
And his heritage, his black heritage, if you will, worked to his advantage, in having provided him with the heavy bones and thick beef of the mesomorphic constitution which typifies so many of African descent.
So okay, he has a lot to learn, more even, than he suspected.
And he forgives himself for his ignorance, or rather, his areas of ignorance.
Because Rhino has been around for-who knows?
Who knows how old he is?
Because you can't tell by looking.
He could be forty or he could be seventy. The man is encased in armor, for heaven's sake! To build that kind of muscle takes-what? Another thing King doesn't know, he admits to himself.
And now, Rhino is dismounting from the top of the pile.
And moving off toward the bathroom.
And now, Francine is getting up, getting off of him, his cock, wet and scum-soaked and flaccid, sliding out of her quite easily.
Last of all, he gets up.
Rhino is washing up at the sink.
"You two can go ahead and take your showers, if you want," he says. "I'll wait until after you leave for mine."
Telling them that the party is over.
And now, he and Francine shower together. And King senses himself mystified still further by Rhino, even more than before tonight.
And yet, he is not diminished in any way by tonight's experience.
He is more concerned with the tremendous gaps in his knowledge implied by tonight than with any feeling of rivalry, of jealousy.
Because it is obvious to him, as it must be to Francine, that the two of them are in one world, Rhino in quite another.
And the twain shall meet, can and do meet, only on Rhino's terms.
Randy Buck has chosen well in Rhino, a bodybuilding guru whose knowledge, compared to that of others, could very well be considered infinite.
Surely, it must be evident to Francine that she has bitten off more here than she can chew, if all she was expecting, looking forward to, was the lascivious':delight of a threesome.
Because here is something else, something vastly greater.
Even though it is a mystery, not something to which a name can be readily assigned.
And now, they are scrubbed clean and ready to leave.
Rhino, seated in the livingroom, wearing his grey robe and slippers, gets up from in front of the TV as they enter.
"Thank you for coming," he says.
And sees them to the door.
"We start choreography next week," he announces.
And closes the door behind them.
"That was, uh, something else," Francine says.
"Sure was," King agrees.
"I uh, I hope that changed nothing between us," she says.
"Not at all."
"Good!" she replies, obviously relieved.
And she kisses him.
Not at all, King repeats in his mind.
But he does not mean it the way she thinks he does.
What it means is that things are not at all what he thought they were between them.
He was getting stuck on her, he realizes.
Without meaning to, he was lowering all his natural defenses, opening himself up to feelings for her that were drawing them closer and closer together.
And this is good, what happened tonight, he reflects.
Straightened their relationship right out, it did. Because he was, in common parlance, falling for her.
No good.
No good at all, in the long run.
Because this mixed pairs competition is not the be all and end all of his career.
Indeed, he does not even consider it a true beginning.
That will come a little later.
The Mister Galaxy contest.
That is the make or break, the crunch point, as far as he is concerned.
So that all this thing he is doing now, with Francine, is by way of preparation.
Not that he intends to accept anything less than victory, or to give less than his full effort to that end.
It is just that he is not prepared to view the mixed pairs competition in the same light as his individual effort Still, he must do nothing to upset Francine, to let the side down.
And Rhino could well prove the best thing to come out of this, in the end.
Although surely, if Randy Buck intends that Steve win again this year, then he will divert Rhino's services to that end.
Meaning what, where he, King, is concerned?
"You don't seem to have too much to say tonight, King," Francine observes, as he drives her back to her apartment.
"I think our bodies have talked to each other quite enough for one night, don't you?"
"Guess so," she says.
Then, "You're not, uh, pissed off at me for making this thing happen tonight, are you?"
"Not at all, not at all. In fact, I found it to be quite... educational."
"Then you've got it all over me."
"I came away from there with a lot more questions than answers."
"Well, me too, far as that goes."
Still, I thought it was an eye opener, of sorts."
"That it was, Francine sighs.
"Why? Are you gonna be going back for seconds?"
"Only with you."
"Oh. So now the ball is in my court, right?"
"I didn't mean it that way.
"I just meant, you know, no... dates with him." King shrugs.
"He isn't the kind of guy a woman would actually date."
"And don't even ask why I said that."
"You know, I won't ask, but you're right."
"For some reason, I just can't picture myself going to a movie or a restaurant with him."
"Or any other woman, for that matter."
"And I can't say why."
"He's, he's like a guy from, I don't know, outer space or something."
"How old do you think he is, anyway?"
"Would you believe I have no idea?"
"I could well believe it. Because I don't either."
"And those muscles of his! I've never seen anything quite like that."
"Me neither. Its like he's composed of a completely different kind of meat."
"You got that right!"
And again, the fallacy of racial difference is proven.
Because, even though Rhino falls under the general category of "white", his deep, even tan notwithstanding, he is speaking of him with this white woman as though it is he who is the alien presence, the stranger, the outsider, the one to be, if not feared, then at least looked at askance.
She is telling him that Rhino may be many things, but that he is not "one of us", the us in question meaning a much larger group which includes both him and her.
Satisfaction of a sort.
Insight of a kind.
And he feels a kind of shame at himself because of it.
Redirected discrimination, this is.
Include oneself by excluding others.
A cheap ploy.
And one which, on balance, he decides he will not use.
So- "Everybody comes from somewhere," he says.
"Everybody has a mother and a father, a time and place of birth, a place where they grew up, and so on and so on."
"I suppose so," Francine agrees, "still, the guy is weird."
Okay Weird he can buy.
Weird is like an individual thing.
Weird is better than alien, better than outsider, better than one who is to be excluded.
"I wish I knew all that he does," King says. And is glad he did.
Because that is what he really wants from Rhino, all he wants.
And also, it's good to admit that he doesn't have a great many of the answers, the techniques that he needs to put himself over the top in the bodybuilding game.
"Me too," she agrees.
"So I guess it comes down to how close we have to get to him to get that knowledge."
"That's about it."
"Should we push or just let it come as we need it?"
"Little bit of both, I should think," Francine replies.
"I just wish I knew how much more there is that we don't know about."
He shrugs.
"Maybe, we don't hafta know it all, y'know? Maybe he knows a lotta garbage that applies to others or doesn't mean anything to anybody.
"But I'd like to know everything I need to be the absolute best I can.
"I get the feeling this bald-headed bastard is just spoon feeding us, maybe even keeping us in the dark, you know?"
"As long as we win, I'll go along with him."
And he can only agree.
Still, Rhino nags at his mind.