2008-03-26

Back At The Condo

Robert was sitting on the kitchen counter, a plate of macaroni salad in one hand and a plastic cup of beer in the other, trying to bring up group sex without sounding like a pervert.
'Pornography,' he told me, 'is the only sure ticket on the Internet. All the legitimate businesses are still thousands of dollars in the hole.'
'Good for them,' I said, hoping Robert would drop the subject. I wasn't comfortable talking about adult entertainment at a family function, not with relatives scattered throughout my parent's house chatting and exchanging presents, nibbling on the Christmas ham, giving hugs and handshakes and pecks on the cheek.
I tried to change the subject. 'So, what did you end up getting Kevin for Christmas?'
'Poke'mon cards. Sarah says he's becoming obsessed with them, but better trading cards than drugs, no what I mean?'
'Of course.'
Robert sipped his beer. 'Anyway, I hear adult websites bring in tons of money. Like those sites made for swingers. Christ. Have you ever read any of the personal ads? Some of that stuff is--'
But before Rob could finish, in walked Sarah with an empty champaign glass in her hand.
'Sarah!' I said, glad to be rescued. 'How's it going?'
'I need another glass of wine.'
'Chasing after the eternal buzz?'
She didn't answer me. She pulled Robert by the arm and whispered in his ear. Robert nodded. The two of them winked and giggled.
That's when they made the proposition. ***They wanted me to visit their condo. They lived on Reed Street, ten miles north of my parent's place. 'Please, please, please,' Sarah was saying, her breath reeking of rum and cigarettes.
I tried to think of an excuse. 'Well, I've got to return some video tapes . . .'
'On Christmas? Can't you take them back tomorrow?'
'Sure, but--'
'Then you’re coming,' she said, and refilled her glass of wine. *** We arrived at the condo at quarter to ten. The three of us sat in the living room watching reruns of MASH, and every so often, Sarah would get up and check on the laundry. Each time she left the room Robert would pull out a bright yellow video tape from under the couch entitled 'Euro-Trash' and throw it in the VCR. The scene we were watching now showed an amazingly hot European broad with great tits getting ram-rodded by two dudes at once. 'Why are you watching this?' I said to Robert. 'I don't need to see this. And what about Sarah? Does she know you watch this shit?'
'She watches it with me,' he said.
'What?'
'Yep, on Friday nights.'
Tonight was Friday. I didn't like where this was going.
'Well do me a favor,' I said. 'Don't watch this stuff with me around, okay?'
'Why? What's wrong with it?'
'It's making me uncomfortable.'
'You mean it's turning you on?'
'No,' I said. 'I just feel sorry for that girl. She's getting drilled by two guys at once.'
'And loving it, too,' a voice called from across the room. It was Sarah. She was standing in the archway of the living room wearing white platform heels and nothing else. Her long blond hair was tied up in a red ribbon on her head.
'Come on in dear,' Robert said to his wife. 'Roy and I were just watching this fine video.'
I turned my attention back to the video, which was showing a nasty climax scene: The guy on top of the Euro-slut was pulling his prick from her cunt and jerking himself off all over her face. She was moaning and trying to get it all in her mouth. She was doing a poor job; his cream was splattering all over her chin and cheeks.
Then the other guy--the one on the bottom--was hitting his peak, pulling his prick out of her ass. She scrambled to the left to take his cream as well. The guy closed his eyes and made a noise like he was constipated. The Euro-slut grabbed his spurting dick and shoved it in her mouth. She moaned and spat out a giant wad of jism. It trickled down her neck and between her tits. The camera panned in to show a close-up of her ass and pussy. They were both red and stretched wide. Then the camera panned to show an extreme close-up of her face. She was smiling, mouth partially open, gobs of jit sticking to her lips, silver fillings twinkling in her teeth.
The guy who just fucked her cunt and shot his load all over her face said, 'That's how we do it in America, baby.'
The Euro-slut was smiling like she was at her 10th birthday party. She said, with a heavy Dutch accent, 'More. I want more.'
The guy who just finished fucking her ass--a guy with six-pack abs--walked over and said, 'No, baby. We got to go now.'
Robert turned off the movie, clapped his hands together, and said, 'Good show, wasn't it?'
Sarah reached over and grabbed Robert's prick through his jeans. 'Yes. It was. Makes me want to do things . . .'
I watched both of them--Sarah, my friend since college, and Robert, her husband--and hadn't a clue what to make of them. Sure, my dick was rock hard, but group sex? Suddenly I wished I'd made the trip to Blockbuster.
Robert pulled down his jeans and Sarah started sucking his cock, right in front of me, the goddamn slut.
'What the hell are you doing?' I asked them.
'I'm sucking my husband's dick,' Sarah said. She pumped her fist on his cock and then stuck his rod of flesh back in her mouth. Robert's cock was hard and thick, filling Sarah's mouth like a bloated hotdog.
Robert took off his shirt. 'My wife's such a piece of ass, isn't she?'
I couldn't speak. I was mesmerized by Sarah sucking him off.
Sarah uncorked his prick from her mouth. 'This is more fun than I've had in ages, sucking on Robert's cock. You wanna try it?'
'What?' I said.
'Do you wanna suck his dick?' she said. 'I see you standing there with your eyes bugging out of your head . . .'
I looked at Robert. He had a neutral expression on his face that said: I'll try anything once. My dick was getting very hard. The thought of Robert's penis in my mouth was making me crazy. I wasn't gay, but I did possess tendencies. Bisexual tendencies. Tendencies that arose from watching too much porno {although I'd never admit that to Robert}, tendencies that started out harmless but grew bigger and bigger, tendencies that ate away at my moral fiber like termites eating away at the foundation of a house. I'd watch a couple of hot ass lesbos licking each other's twats and say, 'I wish I could do that.' But I couldn't because I was a man, and the only thing comparable to lesbianism in a man was, well . . . being with another man. That was it. That was the closest I could get to being a lesbian: Being with another man.
Robert spread his legs apart and Sarah went from sucking his dick to tonguing his balls. Yes, she was a piece of ass. Both of them were. Sarah with her cute little backside and her big round jugs hanging from that tall thin frame. And Robert--Jesus. He was stacked. I never knew he was so muscular . . . and so hairless. I wondered if he shaved himself.

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