Bringing the Arts Together: Memory Clips Summer, 1976. I was going out with a singer and a dancer, both very talented. I decided to see what sort of performance we could put on together. If you're looking for romance, look elsewhere. ___________ I'm 61 and facing the fact that my most erotic experiences are behind me. My wife and I have an excellent sex life, and I willingly traded the love I gained for the excitement I lost--and would do so again. There are times, however, when I can't help recalling those "My-God-Can-Anything-be-Better-than-This?" experiences, when I was so excited that it was as if I had too much air in my lungs, too much blood in my veins, when it felt as if my whole body was erect, as if I were going to explode rather than climax. But thankfully senility has not yet arrived and those times are still with me. I have an excellent memory and memories, one of which I'll share with you. It was 1976, predating, at least for heterosexuals, the AIDS crisis. I was thirty, between marriages, and teaching classes, for the second Summer in a row, at a regional campus of a state university. It was just rural enough that few college teachers were begging to spend the Summer there, which provided me with an opportunity. At the main campus of this university, I was used to teaching callow 18 year olds and so was surprised at the regional campus when I found a great many older people coming back to finish their college education. Older here is relative; most of my students were between twenty and forty. As I scoped out the students before me, I felt myself being scoped out as well. That had happened occasionally with the teenagers at the main campus but I had never acted on it. I'm sure the bodies would have been great but I was also sure that the conversation would be abysmal--and there were the ethical issues. So it was a great surprise that Summer when I found myself in relationships with two women, each in her twenties, one a former and the other a current student. Susan, 24 The first Summer I taught at the regional campus, Susan was one of my students. She did very well in the class, effectively contributing and earning one of the few "A's" I gave that quarter. She was tiny--5 feet tall at best--but very sexy, with a kind of compact curviness that grabbed attention. I had never approached her but we were aware of each other in a semi-hormonal way. The second year I taught there, she was not in my classes, but I saw her on campus, we started talking and she said that she was sorry we had not gotten together the previous Summer. I said that was easily rectified and asked her to dinner. We had a wonderful time, had several drinks and, when I found she preferred marijuana to alcohol, I invited her back to my apartment, where a pipe was always loaded. We smoked and suddenly we were ripping each other's clothes off with our eyes. We lay down on my bed but when I went to unzip her skirt, she gave me a strange look. I asked what the matter was and she said she was Catholic and could not risk getting pregnant. I smiled and said, "You don't understan...." And she said, "None of those methods work absolutely." "Agreed," I said, "but a vasectomy works." She was unfamiliar with the operation but when I explained it to her, she still wasn't entirely sold. I suggested that, if she wanted, she could look for my surgery scar, an activity that I thought would provide--for me at least--a great deal of pleasure. Susan's face showed a combination of concern, gratitude and lust. Then she laughed and within three seconds was showing me the tightest, most petite female body I had ever beheld. Her breasts were small but on her frame they were perfect. She was shaved--a rarity in the seventies--at least in my experience. I told her she looked like the sexiest twelve-year-old in the universe. She stood, twirled and stopped, showing me a perfectly rounded ass and then bent down and looked up at me from between her legs, her head close to touching the floor. From behind she was almost boyish but there were curves on her that had never been seen on any boy. I have no idea what her measurements were--I have always thought that proportions are much more important than inches. And Susan's proportions would grab the eyes of any living heterosexual male and women on both sides of the fence. It was like most initial sex--there was feeling out, seeing what the other person liked. I was surprised at one point as I went down on her. I had gently spread her genital folds with my fingers and was moving my tongue up her slit, searching for her clitoris. I then seemed to find two of them, sitting side by side, each the size of a marble. I lightly moved my tongue over these two slick bumps several times to minor reaction. Then, with heaven-sent insight, I licked hard over what I was now thinking of as her tiny balls, and suddenly her breathing increased dramatically and she was moaning. After having carefully taught myself to lick a clitoris lightly and slowly, here was someone who demanded that hers be licked hard and fast. She pushed my head up several times with her thrusting hips. I continued with my mouth until she had come several times. She rolled over and said, "Anything, anything." "I'd like to feel your mouth on me," I said, and it was. Even it was small, tight, and well-controlled. I'm sure there most be some sensation more fulfilling than the first time you enter a lover, but if so, it escapes me at the moment. I found myself thrusting deeply into her warmth and, after a while, came powerfully. Over the next several weeks I learned a number of things about Susan. First, that she was constitutionally averse to any form of underwear, a fact I learned to love over that Summer--in restaurants, in the library, once even in the grocery store, where she flashed me in the produce aisle, suggestively holding a zucchini. More critically, I found out where her strength and flexibility had come from. Her tightly curved body had profited mightily from twenty years of dancing, competitive gymnastics, and dance instruction. I don't know how many of you have gone out with a dancer, but her grace and flexibility, as well as her sensitivity, offered some wonderful surprises, many of which we explored again and again. On one amazing night she lay down on my living room floor and then brought her legs over her head and then somehow raised her head so that her tongue was suddenly within four inches of her vagina. She said that up to the age of 18 she had been able to bring herself with her tongue and shared several unforgettable Polaroids taken by an envious friend in high school. In them, Susan was working on herself, her ass high, her tongue glistening, her eyes glazed. Certainly not a skill mucy valued at her Catholic school, where a priest taught what he called sex education. On another night she performed a similar move, bringing both legs straight up and holding them beside her head, the top of her feet touching the floor. I had never seen a woman more open. I was able to lick almost every part of her, which I did many times. When I entered her with my cock, she took a big breath and shut her eyes. This was the position where she had the most multiple orgasms; I later figured out that in that position, my cock was directly rubbing her G-spot (although in the seventies we knew very little about G-spots). Aside from flexibility, Susan's body was as sensitive as any body I have ever known. I vividly recall a good forty-five minute breast massage I gave her one night. I put massage oil over her chest and then sat close beside her on the edge of the bed. I would bring my hands down together--as if in prayer--and then touch the bottoms of my hands between her breasts and then move my hands outward over her breasts. Every time I did this, my fingers would open and I would get to watch--and feel--her nipples popping up after each of my four oiled fingers moved over them. Her nipples grew harder and then, after flushing deeply, Susan came in about ten minutes. I kept on massaging, however, finding that she climaxed even more quickly after that. I stopped counting at four. I was also rewarded when I gave her footrubs. Susan would be on my bed, lying on her stomach, nude, legs partially spread, and I would lift each of her feet and rub every inch with oil. Then I would start at her heel and rub from her heel to her toes, moving my hands more tightly together as I did so. Susan said it felt as if I were squeezing out all the bad and replacing it with cool goodness. I loved doing this because as I looked between her legs, I could see her start to glisten. When she started slowly thrusting gently downward against the bed, I knew I was having an effect. And then, she would ask me not to stop, and shortly after that, with a ragged breath and a shudder, she would come. A nervous system to treasure, her body was a true sex machine. And there were times when it all came together. We were once having sex, with me on top, when Susan simply pushed me over (she was very strong) and got on top. She was traditional for a few seconds, impaling herself on my cock, but suddenly she rose up from me, squatting on her feet with her legs spread, knees bent at right angles--some sort of ballet position. Her breasts bounced firmly--and deliciously--with my thrusting underneath her. At that point she looked down and we were both able to see my penis moving in and out. Some others might be able to do that for a short while, but she held that position for a good ten minutes as we experimented with angles, speed and depth. Both of us were rewarded multiple times. It was a position we used often. MariJo, 23 The same Summer Susan and I got together, MariJo (or MJ) was a student in my class. I first became aware of her two weeks into the Summer, sitting three rows from the front, a long lean woman wearing a tight t-shirt that said, "My Daddy went to New Orleans and all he bought me was this lousy shirt." It was hard to read, though, because she was not wearing a bra and her breasts and nipples stood out, rippling one message but sending an even better one. She later told me she had worn that shirt particularly because she wanted to see if she could turn me on. Once when I looked over at her, I saw her rolling her right nipple. I normally stood while I taught, but several times in that class I had to sit down because my lap was tenting. Once sitting, I looked up to see MJ smiling conspiratorially. When class was over, she stayed behind. I shut the classroom door, and said, "I received whatever message you were sending. Tell me you were not just seeing if I was gay." She said, "No, I can see that you aren't," and she grasped my erection through my slacks. I suggested somewhere more private, and we quickly ended up back at my apartment. She said she had been listening to me all term and wondered what I would be like in bed. Because she had been a professional singer since middle school, she had dealt with all kinds of club owners, promoters, and assorted showpeople. MJ didn't do coy. When we got back to my apartment, she stripped almost before I closed the door, and I turned to see a tall vision. To have seen MJ nude was to receive proof positive of the existence of a benevolent God. She was six foot one inch and a former all-state in volleyball--which accounted for her physical condition. Her body was like that of a showgirl, with a perfect ass for a thong (although such things only existed in Las Vegas at the time). She twirled, displaying herself, her naturally shoulder-length curly black hair, and creamy white skin (she got sun poisoning and covered herself completely in warmer months, which meant no tan lines). Looking at her, I seemed to forget how to breathe. The first time we had sex, we were fairly traditional--two old missionaries--but then we began to experiment with fingers, mouths, and various other organs. When I finally looked over at the clock, breathing hard, several hours had passed (you have no idea how old that statement makes me feel). After about a week, we had a sexual experience in which MJ taught me something about intimacy. I was on top of her, slowly thrusting, and looked down at her face. I was astonished to see that she was looking directly up at my eyes, pulling and twisting her nipples. In my experience, few people are confident enough to look deeply into a lover's eyes. It was a moment of supreme sexual intimacy, and one we duplicated often. Over the next few weeks, we explored our oral compatibility. One of our favorite positions for oral sex was me sitting on the side of the bed and MJ on her knees, sitting between my thighs, looking up into my face, and working solely by touch. I could look deep into her dark eyes and feel her tongue flick once, twice, three times on the underside of my cock. Then she would take a warm, wonderful suck. She asked me one day if I thought of her as a submissive slave girl. I hadn't but immediately had a vision of that as I moved to the side of the bed. Several nights later, she arrived in a raincoat, under which she was wearing a gauzy see-through top and harem pants. When she dropped the raincoat, I almost had to give myself CPR. That night, just after she had brought me with her mouth, MJ said, "Would you like me to do that again, lover--right now?" I did and she did. And when I went down on her, MJ would put two pillows behind her head so that she could look into my eyes and she could make suggestions about how fast and hard she wanted me to go. She was very good about saying what she wanted and what she didn't. I was and am 5' 10," which meant MJ and I fit in an unexpected way. She was easily the best kisser I have ever known, consistently demonstrating why they were called "soul kisses." We were standing in my bedroom nude one day, swirling tongues and hands and as I became erect, my cock started poking her between the legs. She reached down and slipped me up inside her, surprising us both. And then we started experimenting. If we pulled on each other's asses, I could actually thrust very deeply into her, which we did several dozen times. We moved slowly and as we came nearer climaxing, she moved her right hand down between us and smeared her fingers around on me and in herself. I didn't think much of this until I started to climax, and I suddenly found one of her fingers sinking slowly and repeatedly in my asshole. I almost fell over. MJ had been getting her fingers lubricated for a rear attack. One night MJ stepped out of the shower wearing earrings and a tattoo. She paused because she knew I wanted to look at her. Her normally creamy skin was a little pink from the shower. She held up her breasts, twirling her nipples and then slowly turned around, pausing to let me look at her ass. She could see I was aroused. She said, "A penny for your thoughts." And I said, "I'd like to lick you till you squirm." I immediately lay down on the floor with my clothes still on. "Yes?" she asked, and I replied, "I'm just giving you a face to sit on." She came directly toward me, straddled my head (a wonderful view that was) and hunched down on her knees, settling her hips over my head. When she leaned forward a bit, her sex rested against my mouth. I proceeded to tongue flick and suck her clitoris, pulling it into my mouth ever so often. She started squirming almost immediately, her pubic hair tickling my nose. These Squirms were followed by moaning and then by my face and chin getting extremely slippery. I looked up to see the undersides of her breasts, which were great even from that angle, and then watched her fingers as she pulled her nipples farther and farther out, causing even more squirming and moaning. MJ took a deep breath and then she climaxed around my tongue--one, two, three clenches. MJ told me that night that I was part of her aerobic workout that summer, and I have never worked on my cardiovascular stamina with such gusto. MJ once showed up late at my apartment one night after working out. She was drenched in sweat but wanted to get together. I could see that a shower was in order but suggested we try a candlelit bath. I stayed outside the tub, soaping her very slowly and carefully in every part of her body, and found her turning very limp in the tub. As I started to drain the water out, I moved MJ back and down, putting a folded bath towel under her head. I turned the water on so it was a perfect combination of hot and cold. Then I moved her body forward toward the faucet, putting herlegs up the wall. She slid her hips underneath the faucet water. As she repositioned herself and the water began hitting her clitoris, MJ's head thrashed. As her clitoris became more engorged, her reactions grew louder. I noticed that her legs, essentially upright before, had moved down the wall until they were spread wide, her knees closer to her body, her hands pulling her legs apart, her hips thrust upward. It looked--and sounded--as if she were giving birth to orgasms. I'm not sure how many times she climaxed but the progression was dramatic, starting with low moaning and working up shouting "Oh Gods" and "Yesses." The noise grew louder until finally she couldn't take it any more, motioning with both hands for me to turn off the water. I quickly dried her and took her to bed. Her body shook for a good forty-five minutes and we lay closely spooned for the rest of the night. Her singing skills led to several other surprises. Something I had not realized about singers: if they have received training, they have developed what MJ called "diaphragmatic control." I nodded politely at this until later in the evening when I was on top and inside her, thrusting. MJ said, "Does this feel good?" and immediately shrunk her vagina to the circumference of a pencil. I collapsed on her, begging her not to do that quite yet. But when the occasion arose, so to speak, I asked her to tighten up, and it was otherworldly. Susan, with her tiny bottom, I had thought of as tight, but there were times--like this one--that MJ made Susan seem as wide as a three-car garage. And then there were the multi-octave hum jobs. MJ had perfect pitch and she delighted in plucking my insides by humming notes on my cock during oral sex. I remember that low notes were particularly satisfying. I also recall that b-flat--for some unknown reason--was very fulfilling. Together I had been up front with both women about exclusivity, saying that I wouldn't be and they shouldn't be either. They both knew that I was going out with other people and I knew both of them had done the same--although Susan was only having sex with me. I remember one time in particular when a date had asked MJ to do something kinky and she had rushed over to try it with me. I figured that with these two, the direct approach was best. I said to each of them, "I'm going to be leaving in two weeks and I was thinking about a way we could have a goodbye party. How do you feel about having another woman with us? I've heard that lesbians can have sex all night (I had probably gotten this from some definitive source like The Playboy Advisor)." Their reactions were similar. Each said in her own way that she was no lesbian; Susan even said that she couldn't picture herself ever going down on a woman. They didn't, however, reject it out of hand because in the previous eight weeks I had suggested some fairly outrageous things but I had never steered them wrong. They both considered it. During some particularly tender moments I mentioned to each that "You have to wonder what sex would be like with two tongues, four hands, and twenty fingers on your most sensitive parts." They thought about it for several days and then agreed--with cautious enthusiasm. I invited them over to my apartment for that Friday night. I worked hard to keep my expectations small because you never knew what was going to happen in a contrived situation. They could hate each other on sight (but I prayed they wouldn't). While neither of them had ever had sex with a woman, both appreciated a sexy female. I had spent some time with each of them pointing out those women who turned me on and there was usually agreement that the woman was sexy. I had once gone with MJ to a negligee party at a local hotel. MJ found herself almost embarrassed when she became turned on and could easily see how aroused I was. She sucked me off twice on the way home. As I read this, I wonder how I ever lived to be thirty-one. I had asked each of them to dress as sexily as possible. When they showed up, they had far exceeded my expectations. Susan arrived wearing a black leotard top with a short red leather skirt, maybe six inches long and slit to the waist, showing her bare dancer's legs to great advantage. The top was so tight against her body that you could not only see her gumdrop nipples--you could count the bumps on her areolae. She moved into the room with the grace I'd come to expect. MJ arrived wearing a tight, dark blue knit dress, ending about a foot above her knee, made from some sort of thin cotton--the sort of dress that only a perfect body could wear. Sheer enough to be partially transparent, it clung to her, shifting color as she moved, showing parts of her body at random, here a nipple, there a dark triangle. She looked nuder than nude. I wanted to reach out and touch her and, as I looked at Susan, I could see the same thought flit across her mind. Susan and MJ eyed each other very directly, both blushing a little (I had never seen either of them blush before), and each noticed the other's hardened nipples. It was clear they each liked what they saw. My expectations started to rise with my cock. I had been lucky enough to score some hash so Susan and I filled a bowl and began smoking. I realized that we had had enough when I felt myself gently bobbing against the ceiling. Susan reached over, spreading the bathrobe, and stroked my cock to even greater attention. I was very stoned. I felt as if I were getting an erection on top of my erection--it was that kind of high. MJ's preferred poison was tequila. I had gotten her limes and salt and mix and she had made a pitcher of margaritas. I had one so she would not have to drink alone and then she had four more. There was conversation, a little nervouslaughter, and the room suddenly filled with hormones. I felt, then looked down and saw MJ's hands with Susan's playing with my erection. There were definitely possibilities here. While we were all sitting on the living room carpet, floating, Susan and MJ removed my bathrobe, and Susan leaned down and took me in her mouth. MJ looked on with interest and I could see her breathing increase. I barely resisted the idea of standing and applauding. Then Susan disengaged and we removed MJ's clothes as if she were a Christmas present. MJ and I then quickly removed Susan's skirt (one snap) and leotard top (two snaps). I held out my arms and the three of us hugged, nude, my cock bobbing. I suggested that we get to know each other a little better and directed them to the bathroom, where my monster tub plus shower awaited. I turned the taps on and then stepped in, followed quickly by Susan and MJ. Two of us could almost stand side-by-side in the shower but it worked better with us standing three in a line. I moved so that MJ was in the middle, facing Susan with her back to me. We weren't in the shower's direct line, which allowed us to wet and then slowly soap MJ's body. I did her back, her ass, her thighs, and her long legs. At the same time Susan started at the top front, soaping her arms, her breasts, her stomach, and then down her legs as well, finishing with her most tender areas. Susan rubbed her lightly and once, as I was working on MJ's calves, I looked up at MJ's crotch to see Susan putting four small fingers inside her. MJ buckled a bit. She was on the verge of coming but when Susan started to work more forcefully on her clitoris, MJ managed to say, "No, your turn now." And we rinsed her off. Susan them stepped in the middle of us and, unsurprisingly, took much less time to soap. MJ and I found that it was easier just to kneel and lather her everywhere. Again I had the back. There was a great moment when I was lathering from her inside ankle up to her crotch and met MJ's hands moving in the same direction on the other side. We moved our hands slowly, both of us moving our four fingers up and over her respective openings. As we did this, Susan raised on her tiptoes as if to prolong the sensation. MJ then spent a good five or six minutes lathering Susan's breasts while I was working on her back and thighs. As MJ lathered and lathered, Susan came, which startled MJ. She looked at me as if to say, "Is she kidding?" and when I nodded no, MJ started lightly rubbing Susan's clitoris, I mouthed to her to go harder, which she did. The results were not long in coming. Susan's legs semi-collapsed and MJ and I had to hold her up as she climaxed again. I checked MJ, who was shaking her head in wonderment at Susan's sensitivity. She did say to Susan, "Now you owe me." Susan, with eyes closed, only smiled and rinsed herself off. Then I took the middle spot. MJ worked on my backside while Susan took the front. Four deft hands, twenty talented fingers, were working over every nerve in my body, stroking, prodding, entering, and pulling. I was close to sensory overload; I felt myself start to move closer to coming and then I stopped Susan and said,"This is not where I want to finish." I rinsed off, we dried each other in turn, and then the three of us padded, naked, back to the bedroom. There Susan and MJ suddenly went to their knees in front of me. There were two tongues, four lips, and many fingers somehow swirling over my erection. It felt as if my body were being screwed into the universe. I knelt down by MJ to kiss her and suddenly Susan's mouth was there as well. These days, a three-way kiss is almost common. In the seventies, though, it was unbearably erotic. As I moved back a little, the kiss continued without me and Susan and MJ pressed their mouths and bodies against each other. Theys slowly sunk to the floor and I happily watched them play with eacjh other. Then Susan moved so she was directly facing MJ and moved her hand between MJ's legs. She said that she "owed" MJ. As she did that, I moved behind MJ and reached around, beginning to circle and pull her nipples. The sensations were clearly appealing to MJ because her breathing lost rhythm and her head lolled over a bit. After about ten minutes of dual caresses, MJ began to moan and shortly after that, she shuddered and came. Both Susan and I felt it. Susan looked both triumphant and very turned on. Susan then pushed MJ back full length onto the bed and surprised me. She crawled up between MariJo's legs and sloooowllyy pressed her face between MJ's legs, using her fingers to uncover her clitoris. Susan clearly knew what she was doing, although she had never done it to another woman before. There was licking and a sound of suction as Susan did what she was so fond of me doing, sucking MJ's clitoris into her mouth and then licking it. MJ's breathing changed, her eyes closed and her back arched. I listened for the moaning and watched the thrashing of her head that normally prefaced her climax but she didn't come. Susan had backed off and was licking her lightly again. MJ let out a long ragged breath and seemed to be recovering herself. Then Susan did it again, using her tongue to bring MJ to the knife edge of release and then backed off again. MJ said, "Oh my God." For the third time Susan bore in and MJ's breathing speeded up, her chest flushed, and as she approached climax, she begged Susan to keep going. This time Susan didn't bring her back down. The sucking noises increased, I could see Susan's hand burying itself in MJ and then MJ had a screaming, twisting climax. Susan moved up to MJ's face, giving her a very deep kiss and saying, "Now we're even." And MJ smiled and said, "No--now I think you're way ahead...." While Susan's head was still between MJ's legs, MJ reached down and pulled Susan's leg so Susan's body moved beside her own, head to feet. MJ then lifted Susan's hips and put them over Marijo's face. I could see Susan flinch as MJ's tongue went to work but when she reached out to return the favor to MJ, she found her mouth was still a good six inches away from MJ's vagina (In my experience, this never happens in porn movies or erotic stories). She laughed and then reached out and carefully started circling MJ's clitoris with her index finger. I counted. She was circling the clitoris seven times (during which MJ had shallow breathing) and then sinking two or three fingers deeply inside MJ (at which she took several huge breaths). Over and over. There was suddenly a great deal of moaning in the room. Susan came first, pushing her ass down and then lifting it a bit over MJ's mouth. But she continued with her fingers until MJ had another shouted climax. It was good that the apartment walls were thick; it wouldn't have been a great night for the cops to arrive. I was on my back. MJ got up on the bed and straddled my hips. Then, in what I thought of as athletic feat, she moved up, over, and onto me, all without using her hands. MJ started to thrust back and forth. It felt wonderful, of course, and then I noticed Susan lying beside us, watching as MJ impaled herself again and again on my cock. Susan reached over and clasped her hand around my cock, tightening her fingers. She started to get turned on and, seeing me occupied, started to circle her clitoris. "Susan, Susan, " I said," I still have a tongue." She quickly straddled my mouth but surprised me by facing backwards, toward MJ. And while I was licking her hard and thrusting, I could feel them move together. I couldn't see this, because my face was covered with Susan's crotch. But whatever was going on, it drenched my face. Where was a video cameraman when you needed one? I believe that MJ came first, followed by Susan and then me. Everyone gave the position five stars. The rest of the night was a little murky. We had left one light on in the bedroom, against the far wall. None of us slept very well, though for different reasons. Susan and MJ never stopped having sex and I was awakened again and again to sounds and images I'll never forget. Sucking, slurping, moaning, many "Oh God's" and screamed climaxes, with the accompanying sights: Susan deliciously squatting over MJ's face, with MJ's tongue and fingers darting up into her; MJ's long legs up in the air in a V, Susan's head bobbing and nodding between them; MJ's face, looking as if she had slipped into coma; and at one point MJ's gorgeous ass, oiled during a massage. They would come and then come and then come some more. As I sunk under darkness for the last time, in the distance I heard b-flat.... It then seemed as if I were asleep for no more then six seconds when I felt warm suction on my cock and MJ's voice in my ear saying, "Susan and I want to thank you for a great party." I looked down to see and feel Susan swirling, sucking and licking my cock. Then I saw MJ tap Susan's head and heard Susan's voice as MJ ducked out of sight and a different kind of swirling suction continued. I was forced to wonder if I had regressed into some particularly vivid adolescent wet dream, but I quickly realized that I had never been this imaginative as an adolescent. This tag team blow job went on and on and I do not ever remember into whose mouth I came. Did it really matter? The three of us were lying there nude and expended. I asked them if they had gotten any sleep at all. Susan said, "Not exactly. We did rest for short periods. We spent most of the night cuddling." "If you were just cuddling," I replied, "then what were those slurping sucking noises and shouting that woke me again and again?" MJ replied, "Well, sometimes the cuddling led to other things." At which both of them laughed maniacally. And MJ said, "Susan and I really thought you were bullshitting us about lesbians going all night long but you weren't. Amazing." And MJ looked over at Susan as intimately as she did at me during our special times. I asked the critical question: "Shall we do this again some time?" and Susan reached over to stroke MJ's thigh and said, "Who said anything about stopping this time? The sun's not up yet." And the night went on. In the following two weeks I was so tired I found myself stumbling around, groggy. Either Susan or MJ was almost always at my apartment during the day and both of them were there every night. I'm sure my teaching was less than inspired but my bedroom was as inspired as it has ever been. I could have produced enough videos those last two weeks to have made a fortune now on EBay. They did let me take some Polaroids of them buried in each other that I will treasure forever, even in their current faded state. After I left the regional campus, I wondered if MJ's and Susan's bisexuality had just been a little fling. But they called me--sometimes together--and I learned that they had continued to go out together. Susan told me that she knew MJ wouldn't make her pregnant and MJ said something about Susan bringing out her mothering instinct (and I heard a slap on bare skin) and MJ went, "Oof."). MJ left town eighteen months later and Susan followed shortly afterward. I remember months later a drunken late night call from MJ thanking me for doubling her dating pool (with high-pitched laughter--not Susan's--in the background). I wondered if I would see them again. It turned out I was fortunate enough to spend time with each of them and, on one great night, all three of us got together for the last time. But those are other times and other stories.