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Reversion

a Novel by Varkel
Spring, 2002



Chapter 12:  The Sex Party


There was never any question whether Alice and I would attend a
reputed orgy among gentle people -- though I fully expected it to
be only another cocktail party typical of the academic circuit, a
lot of back-slapping doctor-this and doctor-that, beginning with
thick pedantry and devolving to wife groping and slurs at the
end.  I should've known better.  Cleaver was no academic.

The house was a large, three story brick structure on a narrow
lot crowded by its neighbors: not quite the mansion Rosalind's
glowing accounts had suggested, although it was impressively
handsome in the heavy dusk of a Chicago summer evening.  Looking
around, I understood.  This was the rich alumnus's _pied a terre_
near the university campus.

A man in a fancier tux than mine, including a gold stripe down
each pants leg, met us at the wrought iron gate.  Rosalind gave
him our names.  He looked down his nose at Alice and sniffed at
me, but consulted a chart in the gatehouse.

"Welcome to Gerrymand," he said in a sing-song reminiscent of a
high-school play, gesturing for us to proceed up the short walk.
He announced our names, not too loudly, through loudspeakers on
the porch and in the house: "_Les docteurs_ Kimball, Cannell and
Edgeworth."

"Gerrymand?" I said to Rosalind with a sarcastic laugh.

She shrugged.  "Harrison's name for it.  You'll have to ask him
what it means."

Formally dressed people lounged and chatted on the broad porch,
and music wafted from the open front doors.  Even in the dim
light from the windows and the deliberately inadequate overhead
bulbs the women's gowns were patches of color among the mostly
dark male attire.  Typical of a party's start, the odors of
perfume and cologne, not to speak of shaving lotion, were thick.

"Which is which?" asked a grinning young man with a crooked
cravat, lounging against a doorframe.  "I'm Marty Eccles,
psychology."

"Tim Kimball, physics."  I turned to indicate the girls but
another man stepped out of the shadows.  His face was only too
familiar.

"I saw you made it, Tiny Brain.  Congratulations!"

"You too, Zoomer."  I turned to Alice.  "Dr. Alice Edgeworth,
also physics, on the left, and Dr. Rosalind Cannell, linguistics,
may I present Dr. Carl Brinson, aeronautical physics, ex-fighter
pilot known affectionately as Zoomer, who believes that gravity
is the consequence of curved space-time, and Dr. Eccles,
psychology, whose first name, I'm sorry to say, I've already --"

"We've met," Rosalind announced.  "Hi, Marty.  Hi, Zoomer."

"Good god, Rosalind!" Eccles cried, staring at her bosom.  Then
he caught himself.  "Excuse me.  I mean, you look _ravishing_!"

"You'll find out," announced Alice with a leer.  "Zoomer, you
dress up pretty too!"

Of course my girls had met them -- and doubtlessly obtained
deposits from each.  I glanced around, wondering how true that
might be of all the other men here tonight.

"What do you mean, I'll find out?" demanded Eccles.  He matched
Alice's leer.  "I'm looking forward to whatever you have in
mind."

Rosalind said, "Then come inside with us to the light."

Without hesitation they followed us through the foyer to a large,
well furnished room.  Elegantly dressed people lounged on the
several couches and chairs or stood in conversing groups.  A
glittering chandelier hung from the twelve-foot ceiling, lighting
the room brightly.  Acrid tobacco smoke mingled with the perfume.

Of course we had let the girls precede us.  Now Rosalind urged
her escorts forward but hesitated.  She leaned down to Alice and
whispered tremulously, "Do I dare to do it?"

Alice's eyes flashed.  "You certainly do dare!  I just wish I
could join you."

Rosalind seemed to gather strength.  She looked around for me.
"Get in front where you can see, Smarty-Pants."

I already suspected that she meant to pull down her top and bare
her breasts to the crowd -- in order to surprise me, as she had
promised.  She was wearing a shimmering green satin gown that
complemented her richly swept-back auburn hair, decorated tonight
with an emerald tiara.  A short matching cape was drawn around
her shoulders.

It worked.  She surprised me in spite of my suspicions.  When she
threw off the cape, observers gasped raggedly as each recognized
the display at his own speed.  She had arranged her gown so that
it came no higher than the creases at the _bottoms_ of her
breasts.  Thin rolled straps, crossing in front and back to go
around her neck, held everything up -- except the beautiful orbs
that jiggled as she thrust out her chest, now painted in matching
green to a line just above the nipples.  At first glance you
didn't realize her tits were hanging out -- but the second glance
was automatic.

The gasps drew the whole room's attention.  All conversation died
and everyone stared, some people craning necks around the others.
Then the room broke into applause.  Rosalind immediately flushed
crimson, from paint edge to bare shoulders to hairline and down
both upper arms, a color most becoming to gown and paint.  A huge
smile parted her lips.

A handsome fellow distinguished by white patches at the temples,
one of the few wearing a white dinner jacket, wove his way
through the crowd to stand before Rosalind.  The applause ended
immediately.  In the sudden silence he said jocularly, "Well,
Rosalind, they're even more spectacular than you let me believe!"

"Thank you, Harrison," the girl answered proudly.  "I hope I
didn't upstage you."

"Oh, I think it will prove a very nice complement.  Now run
upstairs and get that paint off before it breaks you out."

Rosalind turned away to the spiral staircase in the corner.  I
heard whispers, "He planned this, I see."  "Not much happens here
without it."  "But god, what a work of art!  More of you frails
ought to do it."

The man caught Alice's elbow as she would follow her friend.  He
said, "And you must be Alice -- Dr. Edgeworth.  I am Harrison
Cleaver and I am very happy to meet the world's youngest doctor
of philosophy."

"Please to meet you too," she responded with a most
un-little-girlish wink.  "I think we have a lot to discuss, but
first I should help Rosalind."

"By all means."  He turned immediately to me and extended his
hand.  "And you are Dr. Kimball, or may I call you Tim?  I'm
Harrison Cleaver," he continued, holding my hand slightly too
long for the shake, "your host, as you may have gathered."

"Yes," I responded.  "I'm Tim."

"No need to be shy, Tim.  You're my guest equally with the
others.  Something of a celebrity too, I must add, you and your
lovely sister.  Ph.D.s at your age are remarkable, even for
Chicago."

"My sister?"

His eyes glittered.  "So I've been told.  Perhaps you prefer
_half-sister_, but one can be too accurate about such matters,
don't you think?"

Just why would the FBI talk to Harrison Cleaver?  I couldn't let
it pass.

"That is a canard, sir."

"A _canard_?"  He stared at me and chuckled.  "Your Ph.D. becomes
more plausible."

"Alice and I are not related," I insisted.

"No, of course not."  His eyes twinkled.

He turned away from me to announce loudly,  "People!  The show is
about to commence in the ballroom.  Bring your drinks."

He took my hand as if I were a child and led me to the staircase
with the guests eager to ascend.  When I pulled my hand free, he
put an arm around my shoulders.

"We usually have a special exhibition at our annual party," he
said as we joined the crush on the stairs, adding with a
mysterious wink, "I doubt it will shock someone so precocious as
you."

We climbed very slowly to the third floor that was essentially a
single enormous room with parquet flooring.  People crowded
together, avoiding the far end of the room that remained vacant
except for an isolated, unoccupied chair.  I saw Alice and
Rosalind near a window talking with a couple of men who might
have been assistant professors.  Rosalind had presumably unpinned
her gown so that the green satin, still daringly decollete, rose
to cover her nipples.  Quick work!  I hoped she had indeed washed
off the paint.

Cleaver left me without a word to press forward and stand in the
open space before his guests.

"Friends," he announced with hands raised for attention.
"Friends," he said louder and was rewarded by a measure of quiet.
"If what you are about to see offends you in any way, please
consider it a rare demonstration of the human body's suppleness
rather than a sexual display."  He turned to a small door at the
end of the room.  "Gregor!" he exclaimed in the voice of a carny
barker.

A stark naked man passed through the door and stood gazing
sullenly at the onlookers.  He was perhaps in his late twenties,
tall and very well built.  His gnarled face was rather ugly, but
I doubt anyone noticed, because he possessed the largest cock I
have ever seen, at least nine inches long, and it was fully
erect, jutting out at a sixty degree angle.  He turned sideways
momentarily so that all might fully appreciate his endowment,
then strode to the chair and sat without a word.  Again he
assayed the assembled guests who had once more become noisy, now
mostly with female giggles and titters.  Slowly pumping his
remarkable instrument with both hands, he sneered tauntingly
around into every pair of male eyes.  I stood on tiptoes and
craned to see because I suspected what was about to occur.

Even the titters were dying away when the man crouched down and
took the cock head into his mouth.  With hands under thighs for
leverage he engulfed a further two inches.  The crowd came alive
with indignant shouts, squeals, guffaws and various gasps.  The
noise abated somewhat as everyone watched Gregor's head bob on
his cock with an obvious intent.  "Go man!" someone called out.
"Do it!" another yelled.

We watched in growing suspense as Gregor sucked with sunken
cheeks.  The crowd calmed enough to hear the slurps.  "Yes, yes,"
a woman next to me said half aloud, blindly grasping my hand.
Her neighbor half-whispered, "But my husband says it's no good
unless you gag."  "Who cares what _he_ thinks!" retorted another.
"Do you think Gregor can" -- giggle -- "pull it off?"  "I'll bet
_I_ could!"

I was beginning myself to doubt the man would succeed when a
spasm jerked his contorted body and he emitted a muffled moan.
Semen oozed from the side of his mouth and flowed down the long
shaft as he continued to suck, although he had ceased bobbing his
head.  Suddenly he sat up straight with a triumphant expression
on his craggy face, his mouth a sloppy, drooling rictus.

"That's disgusting!" someone protested loudly, but others began
to applaud.  Gregor stood up, bowed sardonically, flipping one
last drop of come to the well-polished floor, and disappeared
through the door behind him. The audience began to stir.  Many
sought to exit the room, causing a crush at the doorway to the
stairs.

"How about that!" I heard Rosalind's voice behind me.

She and Alice stood nearby with Eccles and Zoomer again in
attendance.  Cleaver came up to join us as the crowd thinned.

"Does that make you jealous, Timmy?" Alice teased.

I scowled at the girl whose nipple points were just discernible
beneath the top of her gown.  Cleaver again placed his hand upon
my shoulder, his fingers touching the back of my neck.

"We men might be jealous, little one," he said, "but if we all
possessed Gregor's skill, the human race would be doomed to
extinction."

"Speak for yourself, Harrison," one of the younger onlookers
objected.  "Even Gregor's talent would not displace my primeval
urges."

"Some of us enjoy company in our pleasure," Eccles remarked, his
hand tugging Alice away.

"The company of twelve year olds?" I responded.  "How would that
further the propagation of our species?"

"I'm ripe enough, Tim," Alice retorted, "since last month."

"I hope we can avoid a sibling spat," Cleaver interjected.  "I'm
certain both you prodigies are sufficiently ripe.  Can you stay
longer?  Most of my guests are now rushing home to report
tonight's scandal, but a few of us will linger, perhaps until
dawn."

Considering the recent lewd display, Cleaver's meaning was clear.
He had just invited us to remain for a sexually intimate affair,
if not an outright orgy, but I felt no need for it.  I had three
females on constant duty, and queer stuff had not interested me
since my consideration of Ritchie as a sexual partner.  I looked
around.  It was clear that several females would remain --
including at least one of mine when Alice announced, "I'm
staying."  Rosalind, too, I gathered when I spotted her in a far
corner with two strangers, who fondled her shamelessly as they
kissed.

"No one will force himself on you, Tim," Cleaver said in a low
voice, his lips near my right ear.  "I won't permit that."

Cleaver and I stood alone.  Alice and another stranger had passed
through the doorway hand in hand, obviously meaning to join the
party.  I could not leave my females.

"I suppose I'm here for the duration," I said with a shrug.
"Would you risk serving a minor whiskey and water?"

Cleaver grinned broadly.  "Sure, Tim.  Let's go downstairs to the
bar.  But understand, I did not promise to guard you from lusty
propositions." 

I wondered how the promised sexual adventure would develop. None
of his female guests, lusty or otherwise, had as yet caught my
attention aside from Rosalind and Alice.  But they were evidently
intent on finding strange cock.  My own was just fourteen years
old, nagging and undisciplined though not undernourished.

"I'll not require your protection, Harrison," I remarked as we
descended to the second floor hallway, "except perhaps from women
who are too old to attract me."

"Don't dismiss that kind so flippantly, young man," he responded.
"I know a couple of women between our ages who possess remarkable
talents, especially if you allow them to treat you as a passive
sultan."

I grinned speculatively at him and he fondled the back of my
neck.  "Just leave it to me," he said with a wink.

Leaning on the sumptuous bar with three sweating bartenders
shaking cocktails, drink in hand, Cleaver wanted to discuss
physics, to my surprise.  "What do you see as the near term
discoveries in your field?" he asked before sipping his whiskey.

I nursed a champagne cocktail.  "The physics of the solid state
is likely to yield the most concrete immediate benefit.  The
transistor was invented three years ago, you know."

"Yes, I heard of that.  I also hear that hardly anything is less
reliable.  The engineers have developed vacuum tubes that small."

I sniffed.  "Hardly anything is less reliable than vacuum tubes!
For your information, methods are in development that will soon
achieve perfect solid state reliability and microscopic
miniaturization."

He stared.  "You know that for a fact, do you, Tim?  How do you
know, may I ask?"

I shrugged.  "It's an issue of confidence.  But I suspect
engineering is of more interest to you than theoretical physics."
I allowed myself to grin suggestively.  "Looking for new
investments?"

"Always.  I made my money in meatpacking, but the huge military
demand has nearly vanished.  I need a new direction."  His eyes
glittered.  "Success could be very rewarding, Tim.  I have
millions of dollars ready to invest."

"The military demand will recur.  But you should study the many
fields that are beginning to open up."

"I prefer to study those who already know the fields."

I asked, "Does that have something to do with the location of
this house?"

"With my ownership of it, yes.  The University of Chicago has
participated in several new efforts recently."  He frowned.  "One
thing I haven't been able to discover is whether or not you have
any future affiliation with the school."

I laughed.  "At this point I don't know the answer myself."
Which was a lie, of course.

He studied me.  I saw a decision crystallize in his eyes.  _This
lad needs more cultivation_.  Quickly he drained his glass.
"Let's go upstairs and see what we can find.  I think it will
interest you, if what Rosalind says is reliable."

A woman blocked our way on the stairs.  Her eyes were moist and
glittering, cheeks flushed, one strap fallen off her shoulder
exposing the swelling side of a tit.  Apparently she wore no
brassiere.  Her hands fell on Cleaver's shoulders.  "Harry, a
bunch of us decided.  We'll all paint our boobs if you guys'll
paint your balls."  She shrieked with laughter at his expression.

He chuckled too as we climbed.  "Rosalind may have started
something."

As we passed a closed door on the second floor I heard Rosalind
squeal in apparent delight then a comment in Alice's voice.  I
stopped.  Although curious, I hesitated to open the door.

"Want to peek?"  Cleaver grinned at me, again with a hand on my
shoulder.

I persuaded myself I ought to verify their safety and cracked the
door sufficiently to peer inside.  I had a glimpse of Alice
sprawled on a bed with panties off and dress pushed up before a
naked guy stepped in front of her to block my view.  I did not
see Rosalind, although I heard her shout, "Take it easy and don't
rip the bodice!  They're not going anywhere."  Cleaver was
leaning over my shoulder to view the action, and I bumped into
him when I straightened to pull the door closed.  We continued
on to the stairs.

"She appears to be quite bald," Cleaver remarked, "but I suppose
up close you would see pubic hair."

I glanced at him and nodded without thinking, which produced a
grin of success.  It was pretty obvious what I had just verified,
but so what?

At the head of the stairs a door opened and a man stepped out.
His shirt was pulled from his trousers and opened to reveal a
hairy chest.  "Make it Canadian," a female voice yelled from
inside the room.

"Busy as usual, eh, George?" Cleaver commented.

"Great party, Harrison," the man responded. "Is the bar still
open?"

"All night," the host replied, "but don't overdo it like last
time."

George rushed barefoot toward the stairs.  In the hallway two
women leaned against the wall kissing.  They did not notice
George scurrying past, but they stood apart from each other to
greet Cleaver.

"Where did you find that acrobatic hulk, Harrison?" the heavier
one asked.

The other, a beautiful, delicate woman in her thirties, ogled me.
She stepped close, put her arms around me and kissed my lips
voraciously.  I did not hear Cleaver's response, because the
woman whispered in my ear, "Don't let Harrison wear you out,
pretty boy.  I have plans for you tonight."

Again I felt Cleaver's fingers playing on the back of my neck.
"I see you have already met Mona, Tim," he said.  "I intended to
introduce you to her.  She's one of those special women I
mentioned."

"And I'm another," Mona's companion announced, pushing aside the
smaller woman to embrace me roughly.  She was slightly drunk.
After sticking her tongue in my ear she sucked the lobe.

"Ladies! Ladies!" Cleaver protested and pulled the stocky woman
away from me.  "We must be gentle with young Tim and not scare
him away."

"Do you find me frightening, Tim?" Mona asked in an affected
little girl voice.  "I know how to put you at ease."

She pulled me close with her hands on my butt.  "Let's find a
dark room where we can pretend I'm a teenager again."  She ground
her pelvis against mine.  We were the same height.

"The bedrooms are all taken, except for yours, Harrison," the
larger woman complained from behind me.

"That's why I keep it locked on such occasions, Gloria," he
responded.  "Why don't the four of us go up there and relax."

"Relax!  I didn't come here for that!" Gloria objected.

She swayed but not precariously, bumping into George and sloshing
his tray of drinks.

"Sorry, George," she apologized and snatched one of the drinks.

"That was for Lisa," he protested in a friendly voice.  "Would
you care to join us maybe?"

Without a word or a glance back at us Gloria took the man's arm
and accompanied him down the hall.

Mona snuggled to me.  "Now if I could get rid of Harrison I'd
have you for myself."

"But I have the key to the room," Cleaver announced.  "Let's get
a bottle and go up there."

"Great idea," Mona remarked and pulled me along with her.

Downstairs a dozen people remained in the room with the bar.
Several chatted casually under the windows with glasses in hand.
A young couple was more intimately involved on a couch, the man
with his hand up the woman's skirt as they kissed.  Cleaver
strode to the bar while Mona and I waited at the door.  She held
my right hand in both of hers.

"I hope we can do a lot together, Tim," she whispered.  "I don't
suppose Harrison would allow you to remain, if you were the
innocent virgin you appear to be."

"I'm a virgin in some ways, Mona, and I intend to remain so."

"Oh, you mean Harrison.  Don't worry about that, darling, because
he won't do anything unless you invite him.  He's really a
voyeur.  He wants to watch us.  Does that bother you?"

I scowled.  "I'm not the sort to put myself on display like
Gregor."

"Wasn't he magnificent?" she exclaimed.  "I've never seen that
before.  Harrison's exhibition last year was a man with a sheep.
I can't imagine how they got the poor beast upstairs."

Although the young body I occupied was eager for sexual pleasure,
circumspection cooled my older mind.  I was beginning to suspect
that mine and Alice's invitation here owed less to a friendly and
dissolute interest in us as newly-minted youthful Ph.D.s,
guaranteed uninhibited by Rosalind, than it did to rumors about
us that may have originated in the local FBI office.

In a number of ways Mona resembled Clara.  Some might even judge
her prettier.  But at that moment my feelings tugged me toward my
"auntie," waiting at home with her wasps and monkeys.  Mona must
have noticed the reservation in my facial expression and body
language.

"Of course we could just tell stories, if you prefer," she
suggested, studying my reaction.

Second thoughts arose.  Here was an opportunity to traipse
upstairs and fuck strangers.  For once the young boy shoved the
old man back into a corner.  Mona's eyes brightened at my sudden
leer.

Just then Cleaver returned with a bottle in one hand and three
glasses in the other.

"Here we go," he announced.  "Let's get upstairs behind a locked
door before the party becomes too wild."

"I like wildness," Mona declared.

"I know you do, sweetheart," he responded, "and you can get wild
after we become more acquainted with Master Tim."

We mounted the stairs, Cleaver leading, Mona pulling me along.  A
shriek followed by loud laughter sounded from the room where
George entertained two women.  The room containing Rosalind,
Alice and their two men was silent.  I heard a bed thumping from
behind the next door.  At the far end of the hall past the
stairway to the third floor Cleaver stopped at yet another door.
He handed Mona the bottle and glasses to fumble in his pocket for
a key.  He opened the door and flipped on the light.

It was a very large, tastefully decorated room, a combination of
parlor and sleeping quarters with a couch, coffee table and two
chairs at one end and the bed at the other.  The bathroom door at
the far wall was open.

"You have such a delightful lair, Harrison," Mona acclaimed.
"I've always enjoyed it."

"Indeed we have!"  He leered at her.

Mona pulled me down to sit with her on the couch as Cleaver
arranged the glasses and bottle of Scotch on the table before us.
He poured generous amounts.

"If you want water, Tim, you can get some from the bathroom
sink," he said, flopping into a nearby armchair.

I decided to drink mine neat and remained sitting.  We sipped in
silence for a minute.  Mona stroked my near thigh with her
fingers.

"When did you lose your virginity, Timmy?" she asked, leaning
against me.  "It couldn't have been all that long ago."

I was about to concoct a story when Cleaver interrupted.

"The boy's body may be as precocious as his mind, Mona.  I can
imagine him screwing classmates at nine years old."

"Boys don't squirt that young, Harrison!" she protested.

"But their peckers can get hard enough to fuck.  Was that the way
it was, Tim?" he asked.  "Did you enjoy your first ejaculation
inside a flat chested little girl?"

I grinned in response to his voyeuristic query then took another
sip of my drink.

"Don't embarrass the boy," Mona chided the man.

She placed an arm around my shoulders, the hand still holding her
glass, and she palmed my thigh high up near my fly.  With her
lips pressed against my cheek, she whispered, "Pay no attention
to him.  Pretty soon he'll be asking about you and your little
sister."

"I heard that!" Cleaver announced.  "The sister is as precocious
as he.  Maybe more so.  She's down the hall with Gordon between
her legs right now: you know, that new guy in the history
department."

"Gordon's really special!" Mona responded with eager quickness,
then added with a frown, "He might be too large for a small girl.
I know I had a problem with him."

"How did that feel?"  Cleaver leaned forward from his seat.
"Gordon's is as fat as Gregor's."

"But not nearly as long, thank heaven."  She smiled
reminiscently.  "You get rather numb, you know."  Smile became a
giggle.  "Once he got it started it was super."

She began to toy at the bulge in my pants with an index finger.

"And how about you, Timmy?" she asked.  "Some boys your age are
almost fully grown down there."

I smiled, amused at their obsession.  "For sure I won't put
Gregor out of work."

"Let me see!" she exclaimed and sat up straight, putting her
glass on the coffee table.

She set to work removing my formal clothing, exclaiming with
pleasure when she discovered the dickey and lack of shorts, as
per my agreement with Rosalind.  Her eyes hardly left mine.  I
displayed my approval with a smile until Cleaver knelt on the
floor in front of me and placed his hands on either side of my
left thigh.

"Not now, Harrison!" Mona scolded and pushed him away with such
force that he fell back onto his extended arms.  "Maybe Timmy
will let you touch him later," she added in a mumble, "though
isn't it a pretty thing?  Gregor's may be larger, but this one is
perfect: not a vein or a wart, just smooth skin and a big blue
strawberry!"

"You're making my mouth water."  Indeed I saw him swallow.

She struggled to free trousers and suspenders from my shoes and
finally solved the problem by removing them as well as my socks.

"Prettier and prettier!" she exclaimed, leaning back to examine
me. "What lovely legs!"

Shortly I was naked.  Cleaver had retreated to his chair but
leaned forward with mouth agape.

"Suck him!" he insisted when Mona backed away.

"Be patient, Harrison!  We have all night.  Timmy, will you
please undo the buttons at the back of my dress?"

I stood to assist her.  Both the old man and the young boy in me
were ready for sex with this lovely, fine-boned woman.  When her
dress fell to the floor I caressed her small shoulders.  She
leaned back against me and sought to kiss me from that awkward
position.

"Unsnap the bra," she said in voice that betrayed arousal.  "I
don't have much there, but they're as firm as a young girl's."

"She likes you to bite them, Timmy.  I don't know why," Cleaver
proclaimed.

He was busy undoing his own clothes. 

When I removed the bra I kissed her neck and reached around to
cup the breasts, which were larger than she had intimated and not
as firm as promised.

"You seem so practiced, Timmy," she sighed and squirmed her
shoulders against me.

"Possibly more practiced than we imagine," Cleaver remarked.

I shot him a glance.  He stood naked.  His hairy belly bulged
slightly.  His erect cock was of ordinary manly proportions and
condition.  He stared back at me with a quizzical look on his
face, for the moment no longer the agitated voyeur and would-be
boy lover.  I could not imagine he actually believed the truth
about me, even if the FBI had whispered it, but I found his
abrupt, sober demeanor challenging.

"You're right, Harrison," I said with a grin.  "I've been fucking
since before I could squirt."

The confession pleased him.  "I knew it!"

I sat on the couch and pulled Mona around to face me.  Without a
further word I undid her garter belt and rolled down her hose.
She had lovely, pale thighs which I could not avoid kissing.

"This shall be the experience of a life time," she said as she
tousled my hair.  "An accomplished lover with the half-grown body
of a pretty boy."

"I'm more than half grown, Mona," I responded, rising to my feet
to stand taller than she.

"Well, let's see," she said and fell to her knees in front of me.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed.  "It's every bit as long as yours,
Harrison, but it seems to be less used."

I did not consider that a compliment, but I was comforted by the
knowledge that before I turned seventeen my cock would grow more
than another inch -- or as long as I wished if I adopted Clara's
hints.  Mona sucked the head of it into her mouth and proved
immediately that she was indeed the special woman Cleaver had
promised.  I have been fellated enough, especially in the last
two years, to recognize the expert use of tongue, cheeks and
palate.  Tissues parting in the back of the throat are not so
commonly felt.  Her nose was gouging the pad above my dick.

Cleaver was quickly on his knees beside her, his face crowding
her.  "Do I also get a taste?"

She pulled her head back to look up at me.  I wanted her to
continue.

"He's going to pester us until you allow it, Timmy," she said,
squatting on her heels.  "Let him blow you and be done with it."

Cleaver understood my silence to be assent.  He began to suck my
cock greedily with a hand fondling the back of my thigh.
Meanwhile Mona stood up, wriggled out of her panties and kicked
them away.  She leaned over Cleaver and put her arms around my
neck for a kiss.  Although I was fully engaged in trading spit
with Mona, I could hardly ignore the man's efforts, which quickly
promised success.

"I'm going to come," I whispered to her.

"Don't warn him," she whispered back and we resumed our wet
kissing.

I embraced her tightly as I exploded suddenly in the man's mouth.
He didn't pause for an instant, taking three powerful spurts
without gagging, then pumping the rest into a loosely held mouth.
I had to acknowledge he had made a splendid job of it.  He stood
and grinned at us with semen drooling over his chin.

"I need to wash that down," he announced, reaching for his glass
on the table and swallowing it all in a single gulp.

He stood smacking his lips, looking at us with a smirk,
apparently proud of himself.  "Young spunk is definitely sweeter,
don't you think, Mona?"  He jacked his cock languidly with one
hand and wiped his mouth with the back of the other.  He reached
out to stroke my chest and pinch a nipple.

"That's all you get, Harrison," Mona growled, pulling me close.
"It's my turn now."

He snorted a brief laugh.  "Ever suck one, Tim?"

He thrust his heavily veined tool toward me.  It struck me as
less appealing to the lips than a handlebar grip.  He saw as much
in my expression and laughed louder.  "It's obvious I won't get
any relief here.  By now there should be a line forming to fuck
Rosalind and your sister.  I'd better go break in."

He angered me, as he had intended.  "You mean in place of the
girls?"

"Don't get the wrong impression, Timmy, boy.  You have a sweet
young dick that would feel good in anyone's mouth -- or elsewhere,
eh, Mona?  And I've noticed that _some_ young men are grateful
when they get a good blowjob.  Not that kind, are you, Tim?"  He
shrugged.  "Perhaps I can thrill your sister."

He turned and strode to the door, leaving it open as he went into
the hallway from which we heard boisterous noises.

"I should check on the girls," I said to Mona, stepping back from
her.

"Don't worry, darling," she assured me and grasped my hand.  "No
one will hurt them.  At worst they'll wake up a little sore
tomorrow."

She poured whiskey into two glasses and handed me one.  We
inspected each other's bodies as we drank.  My cock began to stir
again at the sight of her attractive shape, which though mature,
was the size of a much younger woman.

She nodded at my mid section.  "I see you're coming back to
life," she remarked with a broad smile.  "Let's go to the bed and
get absolutely wild."

We did that.  But the wildness came only after she had explored
my body with her hands and mouth.  Then we fucked with abandon,
pausing only to adopt different positions.  "Oh, you're a
perpetual erection!" she declared breathlessly.

I checked with my built-in computer afterwards and found that we
had fucked a full 34 minutes before I could no longer withhold my
climax.  Although not a loud lover, she had clearly enjoyed at
least a dozen orgasms by the time I finally spewed into her in
the midst of a breathless kiss.

"Oh, damn, I forgot!" she complained as our panting eased.  I was
still atop her, perhaps the only advantage of lesser weight.

"Forgot what?"

She laughed.  "I meant to taste that sweet come Harrison admired
so."

"I'll keep it in mind," I assured her, "for the next time."

"If any."  She looked past my shoulder.  "Hi, Donald."

I rolled off her sweaty body to see a naked guy standing at the
foot of the bed.  He was in his late twenties, perhaps a graduate
student.

"May I be next, Mona?" he asked politely.

"What -- me instead of Maggie?"

He looked pained.  "You know how it is here."  His voice became
falsetto.  "'_Why'd you bring me here if you weren't gonna let me
have other guys?_'"

She laughed.  "She's right too.  It's the whole idea.  But first
get me a drink from the table over there."

She gave me a quick kiss when Donald turned to obey.  "Go check
on the girls now," she said in a hushed voice, "and close the
door behind you.  Donald's rather shy."

Was he indeed?  I wondered how long he had stood watching us.

I strolled down the long hall.  Several doors stood open with
sweating bodies visible beyond them, some still in motion.  I
nodded, guessing that _orgy_ was indeed the word for this, though
to my understanding a proper orgy required all participants in
one large room, where sight and sound of other couplings, along
with ready partner trading, could enhance the stimulation.  I
shrugged.  Perhaps that described the _classical_ orgy, whereas
this was only a chinchy modern one.

Two naked women, holding cocktail glasses, leaned on the doorjamb
looking into the room from which George had earlier appeared.
Eyes lit as I approached.

"Looking for me, sweetheart?" asked the one with the large, round
butt.  "I'm Tilly.  This is Pauline.  And you're the kid who
brought the girl with the painted boobs."  She turned to face me,
swinging two large ones of her own, big brown nipples crowning
stretch marks and blue veins.  Her belly was also well marked
with the stigmata I have always regarded as badges of honor.  I
guessed she was approaching 40.

She simpered, "You can paint mine, if you like, only I prefer
man-paint, if you get what I mean."  She pushed her tits
together.  "How'd you like to squirt between these?"

I've done that.  Once was enough.  I answered, "Tits were meant
to squeeze and to suck.  Other avenues work a lot better for
dicks."

Her elbow nudged the other woman, a plump specimen with deeper
sagging tits, and grinned widely.  "Avenues, eh?  Between us
we've got six.  How many you want?"

"All I can get of course.  What's happening in there?"

"See for yourself."

When I stood in the doorway, Tilly threw an arm around my back
and pulled me into her soft breasts.  "Squeeze 'em, then," she
ordered, "if that's what they're for."

In the room three bodies lay on their sides in the bed.  The
nearest, facing me, was a woman with her arms pulling up her
knees while a fat penis pumped slowly in her rectum.  Her face
was drawn into a mask that looked like pain but might have been
ecstasy.  The third person was another man.  It took me a moment
to realize that he was slowly sodomizing the sodomizer, using
strokes of near maximum length.  And what a length!  I gaped at
the organ's size on each near-withdrawal.

"Is that Gregor?" I demanded in awe, forgetting to compress
Tilly's tit.

"It sure is," Tilly answered, turning her head to regard me.
"Don't tell me you're jealous!"

"Certainly not of the guy in front of him!"

Both women laughed.  "Oh, I don't know," murmured Pauline.

"What's your name?" asked Tilly.

"Tim."

"Well, Tim, you shouldn't be jealous of Gregor," said Tilly
soothingly.  "Most of us won't have him."

"But not all!" simpered Pauline, rolling her eyes at me.

"That's a full ten incher he's got, and he loves to bruise a
cervix with it, the selfish bastard."

"Oh, but it sure does fill up your butt," the other added with a
sigh.

"Damn it, Pauline, that's not what we're here for!"  Tilly
continued, almost in my ear, "The other thing is, Gregor's a
dribbler.  I think a man loses his squirting strength when it
always gets sucked out."

"Does that make any difference?" I asked, surprised that it
might.  Obviously these females had previously endured Gregor's
attentions.  I wondered how long ago.

"It makes a difference when you want to put the stuff as far up
the womb as you can."

I blinked at that.  "I suppose so."  Then I had to chuckle.
"What are you girls, professors' wives?  I can't believe you came
here to get pregnant."

"But we did!"  Both Tilly and Pauline regarded me solemnly.
Tilly stroked her belly.  "I'm looking for my fourth."

Pauline said, "I don't show it as much as Tilly, but I'm wanting
my third."  She sighed.  "Except a thick one does feel super up
the ass!"

"Speak for yourself," Tilly admonished dryly.  Her hand fell on
my slender equipment, just beginning to rise in response to this
weird idea.  "Tim's here would send you to heaven in the right
place."

"Wait just a minute," I protested, careful not to dislodge the
woman's hand, which had begun to stroke.  "Let me see if I have
this straight.  You two, ah, ladies came here tonight, knowing
what to expect, in order to, ah ..."

"Put babes in our bellies," Tilly finished.

"Professors' wives?"

"No, silly!"  She chuckled.  "We're just housewives who love
children.  For one reason or another our husbands can't give us
another one.  Harrison Cleaver throws parties for us four times a
year to help us out.  He's a great man."  Her voice grew
reverent.

"_He_ is," agreed Pauline, adding in disgust, "but too many of
his men go for each other."

"Holy shit!" I breathed, thinking, _What a clever dodge!_

"You like that idea of helping us out?" asked Tilly, studying me
with a smile.

"What do your husbands think of it?"

"Mine doesn't know," retorted Tilly.  "He thinks I'm visiting my
sister."

"Mine does," Pauline bragged.  "He makes me tell him everything I
do."

"And do you?"

"Oh, yes.  That's some of our best times together!"

I shook my head.  "What's in it for Cleaver?"

Tilly shrugged.  "I guess he wants us here for the men."

"You've been here a lot?"

She smirked.  "Oh, yes, all during the war.  Cleaver really
invited the soldier boys."  She shivered, eyes alight.  "Pauline
and I went to his parties twice a week.  We had lots more men."

Pauline said reverently, "All sizes, where it counts."

Tilly was studying my dick.  "Here's a pretty one!"

Pauline craned around to see for herself.  "God, it is!" she said
reverently, snatching Tilly's hand away.  She sank down in the
doorway and her mouth slurped onto me greedily.

Tilly sniffed.  "She's fast on her knees."

So I stood in the doorway, watching three people ass-fuck on the
bed, squeezing a most yielding set of tits, while the mouth of a
second woman, whom I had never seen dressed to the best of my
knowledge, zealously worked my young dick.

Gregor chose that moment to orgasm.  At least he howled once and
strained to thrust the entirety of his massive manhood into the
receptive anus.  Shortly he withdrew a lot of glistening organ
and twisted around to sit up on the edge of the bed.  The man he
had favored, if that's the word, rose up on an elbow to regard
the woman still receiving _his_ favor, again if that's the word.
This was George, the same one who had gone for the drinks
earlier.  His drooling anus gaped.

"How're you doing, angel?" he asked his woman.

She raised her head and looked owlishly around the room, finally
responding with a question of her own.  "Did you finally get
enough of Gregor, you queer bastard?"

"I think I got enough of Gregor," he answered positively,
grinning at me across the room.

"All right, then.  Marty, get your cock over here."

Taking care not to dislodge him, she rolled her body up until she
lay on her back atop George.  Another watcher, who had been
standing against the wall stroking his dong, climbed on the bed
and crouched over the couple.  I recognized him at last.  It was
Dr. Eccles, psychology.

"Don't put it up my ass with George," the woman admonished.  "I
want some meat in my pussy, if you don't mind."

"Whatever you say, honeybunch."

Curious word, that.  I don't think I've heard it applied to
anyone beside one's own wife.  Was Eccles legally married to the
meat in this Greek sandwich?

Tilly had another thought.  "She must be one of us, wants it in
the right place."

"She talks like a professor's wife," I suggested whimsically.

"You think so?"

The subject began to come.  At least she was groaning.  Her arms
and legs gripped Eccles and pulled him tightly upon her.  I
almost laughed at the way George's toes suddenly curled.

Sight of one climax often stimulates another, but not this time.
Though Pauline's mouth slurped on me assiduously, I felt only a
mild gratification.  I saw motion from the corner of my eye and
twisted to see a naked man approaching.  He was a young and hairy
specimen with a half-erect dick.  His face was flushed.  Steady
of foot he was not.

He said dourly, "The two hot numbers pashed out.  Can you believe
it?"

Shambling up behind Tilly and me, he put arms around both of us,
hand closing beside mine on her big tits.  He craned his chin
over her shoulder to stare down at Pauline's bobbing head before
leering around at me.  "You _hooked_ her!  Good for you.  Got
pretty good bait m'self."

"What're you," asked Tilly dryly, "a fisherman?"

"From Boston.  Wanna trap my lobster?"

She rolled her eyes at me.

The fisherman continued, "Hoo, looka there -- a fish sandwich!"
He had spied the action on the bed.  His hand slid down Tilly's
belly to her thatch.  The other one slipped between her and me to
clutch the tit I had missed.  He said solemnly to me, "Gonna
borrow your spare, pal."  His lower hand was pumping in her
groin.  To her he added, "Tha'sh if you can tear yourself away."

"Sure, but I won't suck you."

"'At's only good the firsht time.  'M ready for a long, slow
fuck."

Tilly's face brightened slightly.  "Not in my ass, either," she
bargained.

Meanwhile Pauline had detected my lack of enthusiasm.  She came
up from her knees, slipped between Tilly and me to grab the
fisherman's hook, leering into his face.  "This'll be _my_
lobster!"

"You got it, babe!" he declared, eyes alight.  "Come on.  Le's go
swim in the sandwich shop."

He backed her through the doorway.  She held on tight to his
dick, even when she fell across the undulating trio on the bed.
Oaths resounded.  Other loungers in the room fell atop _them_ on
the bed -- which promptly collapsed with a splintering crash.

Tilly turned to me wide-eyed.  "They're fighting.  Let's get
outta here."  She grabbed my hand and towed me down the hall,
ignoring my protests that I wanted to see who made the next
sandwich.

Two men clad in T-shirts, dicks about half-hard, lounged outside
the room where I hoped to find Rosalind and Alice.  One of them
eyed Tilly's tits, the other my erect dick.  The titman licked
his lips.  "I sure would love to splash those melons!"

Tilly snarled, "What's wrong with you guys?  Why doesn't anybody
like to squirt right?"

Meanwhile the dick-fancier looked up at me and remarked, "You're
too late.  They're all worn out."  He was one of those who had
frowned at my youth when I first arrived.  He had a better view
of me now that I was nude.  He leered shamelessly, licking his
lips, tilting his head toward his objective.  "I could take care
of that for you until the girls wake up.  Or has Harrison drained
you dry?"

Going off with Cleaver had been taken as a declaration?  While I
thought about that, Tilly effected a compromise with her new
acquaintance.  She pumped his dick while he sucked her tit.  I
paused before the door.  Someone had hung a sign on it: _Trash
Cans_.  I looked around.  No, this was the room where Cleaver and
I had spied upon Alice.

Without responding to the queer invitation, I pushed open the
door.  Cleaver lay on the bed between Alice and Rosalind with a
hand in each groin.  Both girls appeared to be asleep on their
backs, arms over their heads, legs splayed.  The faces and torsos
of both were grossly slimed, especially around Rosalind's
globular tits.

At my entrance Cleaver pulled himself to the foot of the bed and
got to his feet.

"It's time to leave," I stated flatly.

"Oh, no, the party's just begun," he protested.  He indicated my
girls.  "They'll be ready for another round after a little nap."

"Another round?  Who did they miss on the first one?"

"Not too many."  He chuckled admiringly.  "They're a game pair!
I think every man in the house enjoyed them, except George ...
and you."

"Gregor?"

"Perhaps."

I studied the gaping mouths.  Alice was snoring slightly.  "Are
you sure they're okay?"

"They just need a little nap.  Give them another ten minutes, why
don't you?"

He did not remain to argue further.  After giving me a sniff, he
exited the room, closing the door behind him.  I shook Alice's
shoulder gently, rousing her to a bleary wakefulness.  She reeked
of whiskey.

"Tim!  I think I did a dozen of them," she slurred proudly.
"Three had me twice.  I can't wait to see the viewers!"

"We're leaving," I said and pulled her to a sitting position.
"What about Rosalind?"

"Would you believe her period started on the first fuck?  She
could only give ass and blow jobs."  Alice got shakily to her
feet.

"What do you mean, 'ass?'"

"What do you think?  In her anus."

With both hands on her slight shoulders I guided her to the
bathroom, turned on the shower and helped her in.  I returned to
waken Rosalind, whose breath stank both of semen and whiskey.  As
she struggled to rise, a glob of white fell on the sheet from her
buttocks.  My dick throbbed.  I wondered how that orifice, my
first outside the "family" in this life, would feel now.

"Timmy!" she exclaimed, opening her eyes at last.

"In the flesh."

"Nice flesh."  Her hand flew up and pinched the head of my still
game erection.  Sometimes that happens after a lot of stimulation
-- and sometimes just the opposite.  "Well, come on," she
suggested, returning to her back and opening her legs.  "Oops!"
she said.  "I forgot.  I have my period."

If so, I saw no sign of it on the upturned labia.  "Doesn't
matter, though thank you very much, Rosalind.  Come on, we're
leaving."

She leered at me as I helped her up.  "Where have you been,
anyway?  We needed someone for traffic control."

I was not amused and pushed her into the shower with Alice.  I
resisted their giggly efforts to pull me after them, but finally
acceded, if only to assure adequate hygiene.  That was a mistake;
they were in a state of prolonged sexual frenzy, I gathered.
They overpowered me and forced me onto the shower ledge, where
Rosalind swallowed my dick and Alice quite roughly thrust her
cunt, just now sprouting hair, into my face.  I thought they were
kidding, but with Alice suffocating me I realized that this was
more serious.

I finally slapped my way free of them.  Even then they chased me
around the bathroom.  "God damn it!" I roared, "cut it out or I'm
really gonna have to hurt you."

Rosalind, breathing hard, backed away at last.  Alice followed
her.  Both stared at me as if I had lost my mind.

I demanded, "What in the hell is the matter with you two?"

"We wanna fuck!" Alice asserted, eyeing my damnably still-hard
dick.  "So do you!"

"No, I don't, appearances to the contrary notwithstanding.  What
in the hell did Cleaver put in your drink?"

She pointed at my dick.  "The same thing he put in yours."

"Well, we're gonna get the hell out of here.  Are your clothes in
that room?"

They nodded.

"Here!" I said, throwing them towels.  "Dry off while I go get
mine, and for god's sake don't start licking each other's cunts!"

The looked a bit dazed but accepted the towels and began to wipe
with them.  I darted out into the bedroom but pulled up short.  A
naked woman stood with her back to me, peeking through the partly
open outside door.  She seemed to be wringing her hands.

I came up behind her.  "What's going on?"

She jumped and whirled.  Though we were strangers, her terror
eased when she saw my nakedness.  "Oh, god.  Don't you know?
Gerrymand is being raided!"

"Raided?"

"Yeah!  I can't believe it either.  The top cops in this town
collect half their salaries from Harrison."

She turned again and applied her eye below mine to the opening.
Noise had risen in the hall.  Several suited men were throwing
open doors to reappear with nude and lewd partygoers.

"Those are cops?" I began, then conceded, "Good god, I can't
believe it!"

"I said that first," she declared crossly.

But my wonder was owed to the familiarity of one of the suits: a
polyglot named Jones, of the Secret Service, last seen two years
ago delivering us home from Washington.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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