Romo answered the phone on the third ring. It was Lisa.
“I’ve seen Jan,” she told him.
“I told her what you said about our relationship.”
“Are you listening, Romo?” She paused, then went on. “I told Jan how you didn’t think I loved her in anything more than a sisterly sense. She thought you were full of shit.”
“Then we made it together, Romo.”
“Goddamn it, Rome!”
He laughed. “What’s wrong?'”
“Well, aren’t you going to react?”
“Okay, I’ll react. Jan is full of shit, far more so than I am, and you’re a fool for letting her talk you into another fucking tongue fest. There… is that enough of a reaction?” He was angry, and his anger-carried over the wires.
“You’re really mad, aren’t you?” she asked, awed by the intensity of his response.
Romo took a deep breath, held it, and managed to calm down. When he spoke again, it was in a normal tone. “No, I’m not angry,” he said.
“I suppose you think I’m being hostile, calling you up and confessing everything this way.”
Romo shrugged, though he knew she couldn’t see the gesture.
“Rome? Are you there?”
“I’m here.” He sighed, trying to sound bored with the discussion. “Look, Lisa, what you do with Jan is no skin off my ass.”
“Well, I thought you’d be interested.”
“I am interested, but only in so far as I’m interested in what becomes of you. I think you re pretty damned foolish to waste your time on Jan.”
“I enjoy it, Rome. Jan is very good in bed.”
“So am I, damn it,” he said.
“I know, but-“
“But what? I told you what your problem was. You’re hung up on Jan because you never developed a proper sex life with men. That’s all. If you’d been fucked a few times in your youth, and if you’d been lucky enough to enjoy it, you wouldn’t be doing the lesbian routine today.”
Romo shrugged again. “It’s true.”
“I slept with Jan because I wanted to.”
Romo laughed at the shrillness of her insistence that it was sex, not a desire to refute his theory, that had led her to make it with Jan.
“What’s so funny?” Lisa asked suspiciously.
“You’re so transparent.”
“What do you mean, transparent?”
“Your like a goddamn window pane. One little squirt of Windex and I can see right through you.”
“You’re a son-of-a-bitch.”
Romo laughed again. “Call me later, when you’re in a better mood.” He hung up the receiver and went to get another cup of coffee. He laughed yet again as he thought of Lisa’s intensity; the girl had to be admired for her persistence in sticking to her dyed-in-the-wool lesbian routine.
The afternoon went smoothly, with Romo spending several hours on bookkeeping and research. He found his thoughts drifting back to Lisa, however, and he couldn’t help worrying about his interest in Lisa and her problems. Why was he so fascinated by her anyway? Why couldn’t he simply treat her the way he treated every other sex object on the GSI rolls?
That is, why couldn’t he push her out of his mind when she wasn’t around and concentrate his mental energies on something more useful?
Romo turned on the radio; every song on the air was about love, or so it seemed. Happy songs about love, sad songs about love, indifferent songs about love. Goddamn the whole concept of love anyway! Surely he Wasn’t in love with Lisa. Yet he couldn’t help thinking about her, wishing that she were in his presence at that very moment; he could not help visualizing his cock in her cunt, his hands on her breasts, his lips moving across hers and his teeth being washed by the top of her tongue.
The girl was like a malignant tumor-she just kept growing on him. Well, there was hope. Maybe she’d let Jan talk her into marriage or something; that way she’d be out of his life forever. In the meantime, Romo had more important things to think about. A marital orientation session, for example. It was scheduled for seven o’clock.
One of Romo’s sidelines was providing “marital orientations” for newlyweds. The sessions weren’t much different from Romo’s usual orgies, except that most of the participants were outright exhibitionists who enjoyed having an audience of nonorgiasts on hand. The audience consisted of the newlyweds, usually one to three couples at a time. They weren’t required to join in the activities, though they were welcome to do so if they wished. The primary purpose of the marital orientations was to teach newlyweds the facts of married life while providing an opportunity for The exhibitionists to fuck in front of relative innocents-i.e., the newlyweds.
Tonight Romo was expecting only one married couple. The husband was an ad space salesman for Skating Rink magazine. Romo remembered him from the initial interview. The man was twenty-three, an ex-athlete from a small college, and a former candidate for the Congregational ministry. His wife was a blonde who wore her hair cut short and her skirts cut even shorter. The chick had seemed fairly shy during the interview, and her accent had definitely been Midwestern. Tonight’s session ought to be an interesting one, if only because the viewers seemed so very straight.
Romo dressed in black slacks and a bronze double-breasted corduroy jacket, then went out for dinner. It was six o’clock, and he had just enough time for an omelet at Mom’s Jewish Dairy Snak.
“You can undress or keep your clothes on,” Romo said to Ned and Dusti Ermold, the couple who had signed up for the marital orientation. “Some newlyweds like to get in on the action, and some don’t. Of course, being nude doesn’t mean that you have to take part in the activities.”
Ned and Dusti looked at each other; the girl blushed shyly, and she bit her lip when she saw her husband reach for his tie.
“I’m game,” Ned said, looking slightly nervous. “But I’m only going to be an observer, I’m afraid.” He tossed his tie to the floor, removed his shirt quickly, and pulled his undershirt over his head to reveal an exceptionally hairy chest. When he reached for his belt buckle, Dusti took a deep breath and reached around to unzip her dress.
“I’ll help you,” Romo said solicitously. He saw that Dusti stiffened up as he helped her with the zipper.
Meanwhile, the other guests were undressing quickly. There were four of them Griswold, a shaggy-haired sculptor; Ruth, his wife; Bettina, a woman slightly older than the others, perhaps thirty-five years of age; then Katz, a literary critic of fifty or so was especially noted for his essays on pre-Miltonian poets. The four exhibitionists were naked by the time Dusti and Ned were halfway undressed, and Romo smile approvingly as he saw that Katz had an uncircumcised cock. Foreskins were a nice touch at such gatherings, since so few men had them these days.
Griswold, who was about twenty-five, came over to Dusti and watched as she nervously stretched her legs out in front of her and shoved her panties over her hips. “Nice,” he said with a grin.
Ned frowned. He didn’t seem to approve of Griswold’s interest his wife, but he didn’t say anything.
“… was far more important than the era that came afterward,” Katz was saying to Bettina, who looked rather bored. “Milton was the turning point, you see. Without Milton, the world of English literature might be far different from what it became after Paradise Lost.”
“Cool it,” Romo interrupted. “You’re here to fuck, not to discuss your goddamn English literature.”
Katz managed a smile. “Ignorance is bliss, isn’t it?” he said sarcastically.
“In literature, yes. In sex, no. Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Ned and Dusti Ermold. I would have introduced you earlier, but I think introductions are more effective when everyone is in the nude. Now, then-Ned, I want you to stop glaring at Griswold. Gris may be a long hair, but that’s no reason to dislike him.”
“It’s not his hair,” Ned muttered. “It’s the way he’s looking at my wife.”
Dusti was blushing a deep shade of red. But she was smiling, and every so often she met Griswold’s gaze for a second or two before looking away.
Romo sighed. He would-have to take charge. “Let’s get down to business. Griswold, I want you and Ruth to begin. Ned, Dusti, we’re going to start with fellatio. I trust you know what that is.”
“Of course,” Ned growled.
“Uh-huh, well, there’s more to it than most people think. A good blow job is more than a simple series of sucking motions with the mouth and lungs. Fellatio, at its best, is an extremely complex combination of techniques. Ruth, could you kneel in front of Griswold, please? Thank you. Now, if you’ll take his cock in your fingers and direct it toward your mouth there! Perfect. Don’t start sucking on it yet. Just follow along as I chat with Ned and Dusti. Got the idea? Fine…!
“Now, then. Taking the cock into the mouth Ruth? Go ahead. Good! That’s just fine. You see, there’s a certain way of taking the cock into the oral cavity. Oh, there are several ways, actually, but this is one of the most exciting methods and is the one most useful to beginners. The tongue comes out of the female’s open mouth… Could you do it again, Ruth? Fine! Once more, now… and the moist upper surface of the tongue comes up to touch the underside of the male’s cock. If the prick is hard, so much the better. You like that, don’t you, Gris? Your cock is expanding, all right…
“To continue, the tongue caresses the underside of the penis momentarily, then serves as a platform to hold the cock in place while the female’s jaws open wider and move forward to take the knob. Once again, please. There… note, please, that Ruth takes the cock head into her mouth slowly. Speed is totally Out of place in something like this; it may be a value if both partners are exceedingly hot to get on with it, but beginners at fellatio are advised to proceed slowly so that each step can be savored to the utmost. To continue… Ruth? Stop sucking. We’re not ready for that yet.”
Romo glanced at Ned, whose cock was ramrod straight, Its thick six inches or so. lined with swollen blue veins. Dusti, sitting next to him, had her legs tucked under her so that her pubic thatch was barely visible. She seemed to be doing her best not to show any reaction, but her nipples were erect. Romo suppressed a chuckle. They were enjoying the show, all right.
“Ruth?” Romo gestured to the long-haired brunette, whose lips were dribbling saliva. “You’re going too fast. You know better than that, now… Come on! Stop sucking him.” Romo waited. The girl finally obeyed. “Very well. Now, then, Ned and Dusti, I want you to see how Gris reacts when Ruth applies a bit of tongue stroking. Go to it, Ruth-slowly, now!”
Ruth’s tongue, which was hidden in her mouth (the lips of which were closed tightly around Griswold’s prick), began to lave the underside of the captive penis. Gris, suddenly stiffened and arched his back slightly. A gasp escaped his lungs, and he placed both hands on Ruth’s scalp.
“See?” Romo nodded toward the fellating couple. “A half-inch or so of tongue movement accomplished that. Now, I want you to watch what happens next. Ruth? Give him a little suction. Not too much. Just enough to-yes, look at that! See how her cheeks pucker, or maybe I should say dimple, as she applies a pound or so of negative pressure? The vacuum is just enough to make Gris stiffen a little more… You like that, don’t you?” Romo grinned at the sculptor.
“Tell her… to go… faster!” the man managed to choke out.
“If you insist. Go on, Ruth-suck him! Hard!” Romo stepped back for no particular reason as Ruth began to draw her lips even more tightly around Griswold’s massive cock. He watched approvingly as the woman sucked progressively harder; Gris also approved, obviously, for he was rocking to and fro rhythmically, with his fingers entangled in his wife’s hair, wheezing in response to the powerful, expert sucking.
Romo spoke more softly now. “Ruth, why don’t you grab his balls?” He turned to Dusti and Ned. “Watch how she grasps his testicles firmly, but not hard enough to hurt him… there! She’s squeezing him now, in tempo with her sucking. Pressure, release; pressure, release… She’s doing just fine.
“Ruth, move your hand back toward his asshole. Marvelous! Dusti, I want you to try that when you’re home with Ned. Let your middle finger creep along the perineum-that’s the ridge between your own anus and vagina-while the rest of your fingers continue to cradle your husband’s balls. Let me see your balls, Ned… They’re big, but not so large that Dusti can’t manage to cradle them and fondle your asshole at the same time…
“Ruth? Give him a goose. Perfect! Ned, Dusti, watch how the first joint of the finger sort of disappears into the vestibule of Griswold’s anus. She isn’t shoving it in, at least not yet; it only looks like that. Gris?” Romo paused. More loudly now, “Gris?”
“Hunnh!” It was difficult for Griswold to speak.
“Open your legs more. I want Ned and Dusti to see what’s happening. And turn around more so that your ass is facing us straight on… Just like that. Fine.
Ned, Dusti, you can see the finger action through his parted thighs. Ruth’s fingers are still squeezing Gris’s balls while the middle finger is stroking his asshole. Ruth? If you want to, you can apply a little more pressure now. Great! How does that feel, Gris?”
“Ah!” Griswold gasped as the finger attempted to push its way into his anus.
“You like that, don’t you?” Romo chuckled. “Now, then, I want you to watch him come, Dusti… Watch how Ruth isn’t afraid to swallow his load.”
Suddenly, as if on cue, Gris gurgled some unintelligible phrase and thrust his hips forward, simultaneously rising on tiptoes and stiffening his entire body. Ruth laughed from deep in her throat and stabbed a full two inches of finger into Gris’s asshole, causing Gris to shudder once more. She began to suck even harder, making loud slurping noises in the saliva glutted recesses of her mouth, and Gris began to moan uncontrollably as he twitched, thrust, gasped, shuddered, and dug his fingernails into his wife’s soft scalp…
“Oh shit!” Gris cried at last, almost toppling as the intensity of his body’s jerking knocked him off balance. He stiffened once more, held his position momentarily, then uttered a long, shuddering sigh and let his shoulders go limp. “Shit!” he said softly, happily, and then he fell back on his heels as Ruth pulled her finger from his asshole and let his softening cock fall from her mouth.
Romo was smiling. “Show us his come, Ruth,” he commanded. Ruth, grinning with the sticky white stuff dripping off her lower lip, opened her mouth and extended her tongue. There was a pool of semen on the tongue, with string-like trails of seed extending forward from the center to mingle with the dribbling saliva. “Wonderful,” Romo said enthusiastically. He glanced at Ned and Dusti, who were breathing hard. “Isn’t it lovely? I want you to try that when you get home. Or even more, if you want to…” he paused and saw that Dusti looked discomfited. “Well, then, at home.” He chuckled softly. The best was yet to come.
The orientation ended two hours later, with Katz pulling his foreskin back and pissing all over Bettina. Dusti gasped, and Ned muttered something about “perversion,” but Romo simply smiled. “It’s easy to put things down when you haven’t tried them,” he said. “But don’t forget, you could be missing out on a lot. Take pissing as an example… There’s nothing more delightful, really, than feeling your sex partner standing over you with a hot stream of urine pouring down on you from above. It may sound unsanitary, but urine is quite germ free when fresh. As long as you take a shower afterward-and Bettina is going to, I’m sure-you don’t have anything to worry about. The very unusualness of the activity, its shock value, so to speak, is what contributes to its effectiveness as an adjunct to conventional lovemaking. And it is rather enjoyable in itself, of course. As I said, there’s nothing more delightful than the sensuous feeling of piss on flesh Ned had risen to his feet and was beginning to dress, his cock was soft now, and there was a dribble of fluid at the tip.
“You’re leaving?” Romo asked.
“That’s the end of the show, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I thought you might like some private counseling.”
Ned looked suspicious. “What does that mean?”
“Well, some couples who come for the orientation like to try what they’re learned-under supervision, that is. With me doing the supervising.”
Ned shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“It’s for your own good.”
“You’re a fucking voyeur,” Ned said without emotion.
“No more than you were a voyeur as you watched my four friends in action.”
Dusti licked her lips, then spoke. “Maybe he’s right, Ned.”
“I mean it. Maybe we should take his advice. He’s a professional, isn’t he? And it isn’t as if he hadn’t seen us naked already… Mr. Romo, I’m still kind of confused about some of the positions.”
Romo looked at Ned. “Well?”
“How much does it cost?” Ned asked in a tone of resignation.
“Ten dollars per half-hour. You’ve already paid for the orientation.”
“Greedy bastard, aren’t you?” Ned was knotting his necktie.
Romo shrugged. “It’s no more expensive than a good flying lesson.”
Ned didn’t say anything, but for the second time that evening he began to undress.
Romo was a night person, so he felt no qualms about going to work once Ned and Dusti had left. Instructing them in the finer points of sex activity had been pleasant; Romo always enjoyed the role of school teacher, and he also liked to watch newlyweds fuck. They invariably seemed nervous about the whole thing, and they always behaved as if someone were standing by with a television camera. Dusti had acted like a teen-age girl going to a gynecologist for the first time. Ned, on the other hand, had seemed worried that he might not be able to get it up. But once they’d begun fucking, with Romo giving them pointers on how to get the most out of each position, they had loosened up. The hour of instruction had ended with the two of them having a simultaneous orgasm, one joined in with by. Romo who, without their noticing, had begun to jerk off.
Now, with everyone gone, Romo turned his mind to another project, an illustrated book on adolescent sexuality. The volume, to be published by the Pubescent Publishing Corp., of Torrance, California, was going to be a pseudoscholarly work sprinkled with photographs of teen-agers fucking. Not to mention sucking, fingering, widdling, nibbling, whipping, lesbianizing, and every other sex act known to the typical oversexed teeny-bopper. The book was going to be a triumph of bad taste; it was also bound to be a best seller.
Romo had prepared quite a few notes for the book, though he hadn’t yet written it up in final form. His primary worry right now was lining up suitable models. He could do his own photography-he had a good studio, and he was quite capable of operating the equipment even if he didn’t know much about the final artistic merit-and he planned to shoot the photos a few days hence. In the meantime, he wanted to study his notes. And he couldn’t help thinking about his own adolescence… And he wondered if other people indulged themselves in the past like this… reliving the laugher and the hurts of their own foolish teen years.