It all started with the party Nat and Lee threw. Nat was a highly successful engineer, his wife was a research scientist, and most of their friends were heavily into gadgetry of one sort or another. But all the heavy mental work they had to do all week only made them want to get more into their bodies when the week-end came!
Mitchell the mad electronics wizard, and his hooker girl friend Carol were screwing on the patio when Lee took some mescaline by mistake. Meanwhile, DesSeychelles, the kinky French physicist turned playwright, was making it in the closet with a raunchy, tripped out sixteen year old named Lisa, and Chopsoman, the obscene piano player, was giving Nat a headache.
Maybe if the events of the party hadn't been so crazy, maybe if Chopsoman hadn't switched the aspirin and the mescaline for a goof, maybe then Nat would never have gotten so riled up as to hogtie his wife in the bedroom while DesSeychelles and Lisa rolled on the floor. Be that as it may, Nat did tie her up, and Lee was tripping so heavily that she found that she liked it.
One thing led to another, and a second party, one that nobody had planned, got underway the very next day. Everybody was so surprised to find out how many of their friends were into bondage, but everybody was tripping, so nobody got uptight about it, they just let it all hang out!
CHAPTER ONE
Nat sat in a chair in the corner of the room. Chopsoman was sitting at the piano making up ridiculous songs again. Everybody was stoned and drunk, and somebody or bodies was screwing out on the patio. Nat looked up from the beer can he was bending and looked for Lee. She was leaning over the piano with her acid crazy eyes on Chopsoman. Well, at least she wasn't the one on the patio.
"You're an ass hole!" Nat muttered, and pulled out his dick and pissed all over Chopsoman's hands.
Lee was in hysterics now. So were the rest of the people in the room. The couple on the patio were grunting and knocking over the flower pots in their delirium. Nat stumbled to the bathroom in search of the aspirin bottle. It wasn't in the cabinet. There was a jar of mescaline, but no aspirin. The mescaline was supposed to be hidden in the closet. Lee probably switched the bottles by mistake. Or maybe it was her idea of a joke. If she laughed at Chopsoman, she might think making people with headaches trip on acid was a fair to passing joke, he wouldn't put it past her. Nat saw his dick hanging out in the mirror and tucked it back into his pants. He turned around and went to the closet. He had to have an aspirin, maybe five.
As he got to the closet door, he started to hear voices. Did Lee put some mescaline in his beer earlier on in the evening? He was getting tired of her pranks. She must be as bored as he is, Nat mused. But the voices weren't in his head. They were coming from the closet.
"Let's sit in the closet and pretend we're coat hangers," someone was whispering. Someone else giggled. Ah, shit, Nat thought, it's that crazy jackass DesSeychelles.
DesSeychelles was the brilliant physics student who'd decided to switch majors and become a play write. He could talk about anything and make it sound like a Nobel Prize acceptance speech, and he was always impossibly stoned. He was also always chasing tail, and it sounded like he was in the middle of making a piece of it right now. Whatever else could be said about the mad Frenchman, he was never boring. That made him unique at this party, Nat thought. He decided to open the door and let DesSeychelles amuse him.
"Say something funny, I'm bored," Nat pleaded.
DesSeychelles took his hand off the gorgeous little brunette's massive tit and scratched his head with it. "Make ya a deal," he said, "say something boring and I'll laugh at you."
"H-t-t-t-t-t!" Nat chortled. Nat forgot about the aspirin. DesSeychelles was starting to get sarcastic. That would be better for his headache than a bunch of pills.
"Nat laughs like a machine gun. It's the closest he ever gets to virility. Ask his wife Lee about it sometime when she's not yawning. Well, Nat, I see that Chopsoman's being the death of the party again. You really pissed on him, didn't you? You should know better than that, Nat, he'd let you shit in his mouth if that would get him attention. Not that I blame you, though. That's why we're hiding in this closet. I wanted to shit in his face, and Lisa here said I'd probably give him worms, and then he'd probably give everybody he knows some foul disease. I told her that wouldn't be so bad, at least then we'd maybe be quarantined or something, and then we wouldn't have to suffer his presence for a few weeks. But she doesn't know him so well as we do, and she didn't think avoiding him could be worth all that effort. She'll learn, I guess, but until she does, I decided on a compromise and chose to. hide from him. Hey, you know, it's awfully cramped in here, you got a bedroom where we can get comatose for a while?"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t! Say something else funny, I'm bored!"
"Just show us the bedroom, then you can stand outside the door listening and laugh yourself sick. Come on, Lisa, Chopsoman must have run out of verses by now, this may be our last chance."
Nat showed them to the bedroom and opened the door. DesSeychelles already had Lisa's blouse off, and Nat found himself getting an erection.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t! Can I watch?"
"Ah, go fuck your wife!"
DesSeychelles slammed the door in his face.
Nat heard him throw the girl down on the bed and pounce on her. Nat listened for a while, and when DesSeychelles started grunting, he decided he'd had enough and went into the closet to beat off.
He was just about ready to come when he heard somebody turning the door knob. Nat started stroking furiously, trying to shoot off before the intruder walked in on him and said something embarrassing. But he wasn't fast enough. When the door opened, he was just starting to spurt, and squirted a messy ooze of gray stuff on Lee's boot tops.
"Oh, Nathan!" she whined. "Now you won't be able to get it up for me later tonight!"
"Ah, shit, honey, DesSeychelles' off in the bedroom balling some incredibly large-titted sixteen year old, what am I supposed to do, take pictures?"
"Oooh! I bet he has a big cock, that's why he always has so many women around, right? Does he have a big one, Nat, did you notice?"
"Come on, I was looking at her tits, what do I care if he's got a big dong or not?"
"Oh, Nat, you never think of me at all!"
"Fuck yourself. Whatcha do with the aspirin?"
"They're in the medicine cabinet, of course!"
"Come on, the mescaline that's supposed to be in here is there, you playing games again with my head?"
Lee gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Then she giggled.
"Oh dear, I thought those were the aspirin, and I took two of them before when I got a headache from listening to Chopsoman!"
Nat stood up and tucked his cock in his pants. He rummaged through the shelves of the closet and found the mescaline bottle. The aspirin were inside, and he took three.
"Dumb shit, clean your boots off, don't want Chopsoman making up another dumb song!"
"Jee-zus, Nat, I took those pills an hour ago, I'll be getting off soon!"
"Dumb shit."
The aspirin didn't do him much good. Lee took his place in the closet and started to roll her eyes around and get trippy. Nat shut the door and heard DesSeychelles and his sixteen year old fucking in the bedroom across the hall. He walked through the kitchen and heard two other people knocking over more plants on the patio and having an orgasm. Chopsoman was playing a new song on the piano. Six people were nodding out in chairs in the living room, and five or so others were running around the piano being foolish.
Chopsoman saw Nat walk in and cut off the song he'd been making up to return to an old standard.
"Oh! Nathan just jerked off in a bottle in the closet, He just returned, but there's no deposit, How I want to be pissed on-today!"
"Dumb shit!" Nat growled, and threw Chopsoman down on the floor and started strangling him. That felt good. He'd been wanting to do this for years. He wanted to make Chopsoman stop laughing and show some fear and trembling.
"Nathan! Nathan!" he shrieked, and started laughing.
"Show some pain! Humor me, turd!"
Chopsoman's eyes were bugged, but he wasn't about to give Nat any satisfaction.
"Nathan's got Chopsoman down on the floor, He's so horny that he's gonna fuck me up the back door, how I want to be pissed on-today!"
Somebody else had seated himself on the piano, and he was playing Chopsoman's tune. Chopsoman made up some more verses, and half a dozen people stood around Chopsoman and Nat and clapped in rhythm with the piano player.
Nat squeezed his throat and saw the bastard was still smiling. He got up in disgust and fought his way through the crowd and went to the kitchen. The geranium pot had just smashed against the shale tiles on the patio. DesSeychelles' sixteen year old was screaming incredible streams of incoherent profanity in the next room. Nat took some gin out of the freezer and poured himself a tall glass of cold, viscous alcohol and guzzled. "Why am I so bored?"
There was no one around to tell him. The two people on the patio were grunting and coming again. At least there weren't any plants left for them to knock down. Nat got up and took his gin for a walk to the closet and found Lee hidden beneath a pile of coats.
"Oh, I'm so high! Jee-zus! I'm so high!"
"Ah, shut up!" . Nat put his back against an umbrella and sipped at his gin. Lee could be awful sometimes. She had nice tits. A nice twat. Why was she being so awful? Why was he so bored?
"I'm bored."
Lee was gurgling beneath a sheepskin coat. Nat bent over her and started strangling her. "Dumb shit!"
"Owow ow ow ow!"
Nat climbed off her and left the closet. DesSeychelles and his girl were still going at it in the bedroom. Nat lifted his glass to down some more gin and realized he'd spilled it all in the closet. He threw the glass down on the floor. He wanted to watch it break, but it only rolled. He opened the door to the bedroom a little and took a look at the lovers. They had just come, and they were climbing into their clothes. Nat caught a glimpse of drenched pussy before it slid into blue jeans and was hidden behind a zipper. Des Seychelles' back was facing him, so he didn't get a look at his cock. Nat stooped over to pick up the glass and retired to the kitchen for more gin.
The two who had been on the patio were semi-dressed and seated at the kitchen table. They were finishing off the last of Nat's gin. He grabbed the bottle from them and emptied out the last drops into his glass. There was enough for two small swallows. When Nat had finished them, he was at a loss for something else to do. He decided to walk out onto the patio, now that it was empty, and smoke a joint or something.
"Either of you got a joint or something?"
"Yeah. Great party, Nat!"
"Yeah. Thanks."
He went outside and looked upon the ruination of his garden. All his pretty pot plants were dying. Terrible. He lit the joint and took a deep drag. It made his head buzz a little, just enough to bring his headache back. He smoked some more and felt his temples pound. Terrible. The dope was terrible. It tasted the way an asphalt driveway smells on a hot, humid day. It made him cough. Now his throat hurt, too.
He walked back inside and went to the closet. He grabbed Lee's arm and pulled her through the pile of coats and jackets and dragged her to the bedroom. DesSeychelles and Lisa were fast asleep in their clothes. There was no room on the bed for Nat to ball his wife. He rolled the two of them onto the floor and threw Lee down on the rumpled stretch of bedspread where they'd been sprawling.
"I wanna fuck."
"Oh no no no, Nat. No no, people in the room, no."
"So what. They just fucked. I wanna fuck."
"Oh no no."
Nat was getting irritated again. He was getting hard, too. That made him more irritated. That made him hostile.
"I wanna strangle you."
"Oh no no no, Nat. People in the room."
"Take your choice. Strangling or fucking, you dumb shit."
"Oh, oh, I'm so high, oh no no no."
Nat took off his belt. He wrapped it three times around her slender neck and hooked the buckle to the last hole. Lee was gasping. Nat was chortling. He reached down beneath Lee's dress and pulled down her panties. He'd had enough of this shit. He wanted to get laid. He slipped down his pants and pulled his dick out. It was all greasy from beating off in the closet, and he wanted it to get greasier. He slid it into Lee's slit and started stroking.
"Ooo! Unh! Oh Nat Nat Nat, I'm so-o-o-o high!"
"T-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nat was laughing. This was so ridiculous, and he was so bored. He wanted to come, and Lee was starting to heave and gyrate, but she was so wasted, it hardly seemed like he was fucking a human being. It felt like that too often with his wife lately. Why were they so bored?
"Lisa, I believe that Nathan's fucking his wife. No wonder he's laughing like a Gatling gun. How many bullets in your cartridge belt, Nathan? Bet they're all blanks."
"Shut up, DesSeychelles. I didn't razz you when you were fucking. Leave me alone."
"But you told me you wanted me to amuse you."
Nat was getting flustered. He redoubled his efforts and felt his head reel. He tried to stop it, but it was too late. He came all at once, and flopped down against Lee's chest.
"Premature ejaculation, Nat. That was no Gattling gun, that was a derringer."
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nat wanted to kill. Or at least break something. But DesSeychelles was bigger than he was, and he had his pants on. He found himself laughing, and didn't know why. What he really wanted to do was cry. He took the belt from Lee's neck and strung it through the loops of his hip huggers. Then he tucked his cock back in his pants and climbed off the bed. He was going to head back to the front room and play with the beer can some more, but he heard Chopsoman doing violence to the piano again, and he changed his mind.
"Get out of here."
"Aw, Nat. Don't tell me you're gonna try and get it up again."
"Get out, you dumb shit. Leave me alone."
DesSeychelles and his sex pot sixteen year old climbed up off the floor and headed for the door.
"No one's in the closet, are they, Nat?"
"Get out of my room, shit head."
One of Lisa's tits fell out of her loosely buttoned blouse. She looked down at her bouncing nipple and giggled. DesSeychelles covered it discreetly with his hand and led her into the hall. He closed the door quietly behind him. Nat could hear the two of them giggling as they opened the closet door and went inside.
"Nat, did you just make love to me."
"You mean you couldn't tell?"
"Oh, Nat! I'm so high!"
"Shut up. I wanna fuck you again."
Nat dropped his pants and Lee's hands reached out for his cock. This time she'll notice, he thought. Pity she's tripping so much. Maybe I should gobble some mescaline myself. Something to do. Maybe if we're both tripping, we'll fuck all night and have an enjoyable experience. Yes, that sounds like a good idea. To the medicine cabinet.
Nat pulled his pants up and Lee groaned. Now she wanted it, the capricious bitch! Well, he'd give it to her soon enough. But first the mescaline. Nat held his pants to his belly and walked into the hall. Chopsoman was standing there and laughing. Nat punched him, and he fell down. But he was still laughing. He went to the bathroom and took three hits of mescaline from the aspirin bottle and downed them.
"Nat just put some acid in his tummy, But it won't help, his dick's still numb, He really ought to get pissed on-today!"
Well, I've got forty minutes till it hits me. I might as well do something to pass the time. Nat pulled out his cock and pissed some recycled gin into Chopsoman's face.
"Ugh! That's disGUSS-ting! Oh, Nathan just showered my face with piss, That's as close as his cock will get to bliss...."
"Shut up, ass hole! Shut up, ass hole!"
Half a dozen people came into the hallway-and started laughing at him. Chopsoman was so, so funny! Oh, my! Nat started to piss at them, but they all ran away and guffawed.
"Leave me alone!"
Chopsoman scrambled to his feet and ran for the piano. He was starting up with some more verses. His fans were surrounding him and singing along. Nat ran into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Lee was sitting up on the bed, trying to get out of her clothes. But she was too wasted to coordinate her efforts, and the best she could do was tug over and over at her bra strap without being able to locate the straps.
"Chopsoman switched the aspirin and the mescaline," Nat said. "I just pissed in the ass hole's face."
"Oh, Nat! He's such a child, but he's very funny!"
"No he's not, he's an ass hole!"
"Oh, you just say that because he makes fun of you!"
Lee started laughing at him, too. Nat cringed. He was getting upset. It was going to be a terrible trip. She was going to have one of her little girl psychedelic silly sessions, and he'd have to talk baby talk to her to keep her from going crazy. Ah, shit. "Oooo, fuck me, okay?"
"Yeah, that's what I had in mind, dammit."
"Oooo, goo-oo-ooo!"
Oh well, he was committed now. Might as well go through with it. , Why didn't Chopsoman pick on DesSeychelles? Because DesSeychelles would put him down, he was funnier than Chopsoman, and much quicker, and he knew Chopsoman's weaknesses, and he had that nubile little girl with the mammoth mammaries. Her mere presence would wither Chopsoman. That's why. He wished he'd told Chopsoman that DesSeychelles was in the closet, though. With a whole crowd waiting for him to be funny, he would have been forced to try something, and then he could have stood in the hallway and watched Chopsoman make an utter fool of himself. Oh, well.
Nat dropped his pants again. This time he meant business. He liked his wife, but she was so impressionable, she'd fall into any nonsense that was going on around her, especially if it was being generated by jackasses like Chopsoman. Why did he invite that jerk-off, anyway? Because Lee insisted. Oh, well.
Lee was still tugging at her bra strap. Nat got his hands behind her back and released the hasps. The brassiere came loose and released her lovely, large mounds. Nat stared at them as they jiggled, and buried his mouth in her cleavage. Oh boy, oh boy. He wanted it now.
"Ooooooo, Natty!"
"Shut up!"
He unzipped her skirt and rolled it off her. Now he had her naked, and he wanted to gaze at her. She had such a nice, plump body. Such an unseemly amount of hair in her wide, deep twat. Oh boy, oh boy. He pushed her legs apart and jammed some fingers into her slit. She started to heave and grind. Nat's cock was getting very hard. Lee's eyes were glazed. She didn't have much idea of what was going on, but her hand did, and it slid down his thigh and found his cock and squeezed. Nat liked that. But she just held it there, and he wanted to stick it in.
"Let go of my cock, I wanna fuck you."
"Ooooooo, Natty!"
"Let go, damn it!"
Nat noticed that she'd filled her fingers with rings for the party. She had both hands on his cock now, and was trying to jerk him off. With ten precious stones cutting into his flesh. That was painful, very painful. He had to get her hands off him, he had to get his cock loose and shove it into her hole.
"Please, Lee. Let go!"
"Oooooooo, Natty!"
She wouldn't let go. She was very strong. especially with all her mescaline enhanced attention focused on his throbbing member. He tried to yank himself free, to loosen her fingers, to at least turn her rings around so the stones wouldn't bite into his flesh. By the time he'd extricated himself, he was bleeding. He shoved his cock into her anyway. She was very hot, and fast-spurting trickles of come were pouring into his wounds. That stung, but he wanted to ignore that. He just shoved in deep and tried to loose himself in an alternate set of sensations. Sensations of pleasure and lust. Good sensations, sensations that weren't the least bit boring. That's what he was hungry for. He started to ram into her, but the cuts hurt more when he jabbed his meat so fast. Her cunt muscles were squashing him, they were sucking on his flesh like a vacuum cleaner. He could feel himself bleeding into her come, but he tried hard not to let that distract him. He captured a nipple in his teeth and bit hard. Lee whelped, and threw her arms over his back and started grinding into him. Now the stones of the rings were cutting into his back, furrowing the tight flesh like ploughs.
Nat was starting to get mescaline rushes. They felt good, they gave him the surplus mental energy he needed to turn off the pain of the cuts and concentrate on the throbbing cylindrical surface of tingles in her cunt. His head bloated, and a daub of jism escaped from the tip. Nat knew he was going to come any second now. His body grew tense and waited. "Uh! Oh! Na-a-a-at!"
Nat buried his face in her beautiful, fat, soft breasts and let his tongue hang out and ski across her slopes. This was what he wanted. She was getting wild and crazy now, she'd give him a terrific ride. His hips were jumping up and down, and hers rose and fell with his, pounded into his groin, ground his pubic hair into a flat, thin rug. She was dripping inside, she was coming in disgusting quantities, it was wonderful. Nat shut his eyes and gnashed his teeth and felt the tendons in his back contract and become unbearably tight. He was just a few seconds away now, he felt all the muddled thoughts in his mind spray out of his head like an aerosol bomb. Then he felt his cock tense like the bowstring of a fifty pound test crossbow, and then the liquid arrows sprang out and zinged her pussy. Lee wheedled and moaned and dug her fingertips into his ass. He shot off one volley after another, dousing her again and again, until his cock went soft and lingered limply in her tubing and died. She waffled her walls around it, trying to activate it again, but she didn't really need it now, a pencil would do, all she needed was something filling her, something to aim her efforts at, something to let her walls carom off of. Lee squealed and had her orgasm. It took a minute or two, and Nat steeled himself to sustain all the jolts and gyrations, and wished he was still hard. But he was happy. He'd shot off, he'd had a long, mind-numbing build-up, his thoughts had stopped for a few minutes, and he'd gotten his rocks off.
Once she'd passed through her orgasm, the echo of her bestial release kept her cunt and thighs reverberating for a few minutes, and that felt good. Not harsh and punishing, soft and soothing. Nat flowed with her ripplings and sighed. His teeth were at her nipples again, and he chomped at them appreciatively. He'd be peaking on the mescaline soon, and then he'd get it up again, and they'd fuck all night. The hell with the party, the hell with Chopsoman and DesSeychelles and his gorgeous, mindless, sixteen year old nymphette. Nat had Lee, and Lee had lovely tits, and he had her tits in his mouth.
He pulled out and she pouted. She didn't seem to recognize him, she was too far gone on drugs. That was a disappointment. He'd just given her a tremendous fuck, he hadn't even berated her for goring him with the rings, he'd been so nice, really, and now she probably wouldn't even remember any of it. Ridiculous. Boring.
"How'd you like that fuck?"
"Wha-a-at?"
Aw, shit. Lee shouldn't trip so much, she didn't know how to handle it. She never knew what was going on, and that seemed to make everything seem so pointless.
"Nat, let's fuck!"
"We just did!"
"Omigosh, did we?"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t!" Nat took off his belt again. If Lee couldn't even remember getting laid a half minute after the fact, he might as well work out some of his frustrations on her. It would make him feel better, and she'd never know the difference. He strapped her hands together behind her back, then ripped loose the curtain cord and bound her feet. Then he rolled her over.
"Whatcha doin', Nat? Huh?"
"Dumb shit!" he growled, and started spanking her bottom. That made him feel very good, he could close his eyes and pretend he was smashing Chopsoman's ass, or maybe DesSeychelles', or maybe that sixteen year old tart's, or maybe the couple in the kitchen who'd wrecked all his plants on the patio. Hell, he could even pretend he was spanking his wife!
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Nat! Owww! Oh, I'm so high, Nat! Nat!!"
Lee's buttocks were turning a delightful shade of red. Nat's hand was starting to sting, but the thought of how much more her rump must be stinging brought him immeasurable satisfaction. This was better than bending beer cans and testing their shear strength by seeing how small the wigglings of the metal could be made while still making the material rip apart. Being an engineer, such exercises always served to amuse him. But ropes and spankings were so much more fun right now. She'd crash in the morning and wonder why her buns were so sore. He'd tell her Chopsoman had slipped her some mescaline and then spanked her in front of the guests in the living room while making up some stupid song. Then she'd never invite that ass hole again!
"Oh! Oh! I'm coming! I'm coming!"
The bitch! She's wrecking my pleasures! She's not supposed to like it, this is punishment by proxy for all the jerk-offs at the party. Lee should be whining, screaming, whimpering at the very least! Instead of that, Nat found himself spanking his wife into orgasm. Disgusting!
Well, might as well bring her off. That might be amusing. He could tell her about it later. Tell her how Chopsoman had spanked her to orgasm in front of the crowd, and how embarrassed she'd made him feel. But then Nat thought better of that plan. No, if he made up something like that, then Lee would get irate and ask him why he hadn't stepped in and stopped the display. Maybe he'd tell her what really happened. Why not?
Lee was coming on Nat's left knee. Not exactly what he'd had in mind, when he'd started this. However, it certainly stimulated his curiosity. He'd never guessed his wife had such inclinations. Maybe she didn't, really; people's minds do funny things under mescaline, especially when they take it by accident. Meanwhile. Nat decided he might as well keep slapping her. Come to think of it, if it made her feel as good as it made him feel, there wasn't any point in feeling disgusted by it. Good clean fun, haha!
"Oh, Nat! What are you doing?"
"I'm spanking your buns, h-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Ummmmmmmm!"
It looked like she was starting into her tripped out back to childhood routine: one of the three or four most predictable spaces she fell into when she dropped acid, especially if she dropped it on impulse or by accident. Nat grinned impishly. This could really be a lot of fun if he played it right!
"You've been a bad girl, Lee, you laughed at me while Chopsoman played his dumb songs on the piano! That wasn't nice, and that's why I'm spanking your rump, dear!"
"Ohhhh, Nattie! I'm sorry!"
Lee was starting to cry like a kid whose toy fire truck had just been run over in the drive way. Pretty soon she'd be in fetal position, whimpering and sucking her thumb. Well, not sucking her thumb: her hands were tied behind her back, after all!
Mescaline was such a dumb drug to do if you didn't prepare yourself properly. Nat was always telling Lee that, but she didn't care, she tripped twice a week and made a fool of herself, more often than not. But she didn't care: she was that bored.
She was always trying to get him to trip with her. He usually didn't want to. When he tripped, he liked to slink into a corner somewhere and watch equations compute in his head, he liked to dissolve into the wonderland of abstract, cavorting symbologies. He didn't want to be bothered with Lee's silly profundities, with the prepubescent fascinations that she always started wallowing in when she started to peak. He wished she had more discipline when it came to drugs. She was an expert in fluid dynamics, after all, she should be able to slip into equation space when she was flying as well as him. But no, she only did that when they were fucking. Just the time when Nat wanted to act like a kid!
Divorces were made of quandaries like this. He could imagine explaining it to the judge: well, your honor, her idea of fucking is my idea of tripping, and vice versa, and so I guess we're just incompatible, your honor, chalk it up to being stoned.
Meanwhile, Nat was beginning to get off on the pills he'd swallowed. And he wasn't seeing equations for a change. He was seeing a bright red patch of globular skin. And he was slapping it with the flat of his hand. It felt quite nice, actually. Nat watched his hand go up and down with amazement. That was really his hand doing that, all right! How about that? And Lee was coming on his knee-still! She liked it! How about that?
"Such a bad girl you've been! H-t-t-t-t-t! Such a ba-haha! Such a bad girl. Lee-hee-hee!"
Nat was feeling downright silly. But the mescaline was changing all that. The mescaline was telling him that he was playing the part of a powerful daddy, and Lee was his little girl, and she'd been bad. Nat pushed his lower lip into his upper one until it scraped against his nose. That was a fine paternal scowl, he thought, and started to laugh. He was such a mean daddy! And his little girl loved it, didn't she?
"You've been such a bad girl, Lee, that daddy's decided to fuck you in the ass!"
"Oooooooooo!"
Nat had never screwed a five year old before. Lee was acting like she wanted to give him the chance. Nat was willing enough to take it. He would pretend he was engaging in incest, balling his own five year old daughter. Not that he had a daughter, but Lee was acting the part well enough. He spread out his wife on the bed and left her buns sticking out over the edge of the bedspread, with her knees dangling on the floor. Then he squatted, and worked his cock into her crack and pushed. It went in so easily! Nat was pleased. He worked his way all the way in, and slipped his head and shoulders under her tied up wrists. Her buttocks were big and tight, and he had to stroke slowly, so as not to grind his groin to a pulp. He found the right pace, though, and started to enjoy himself.
Lee was boohooing like a little kid, but as soon as Nat's fucking started getting to her, she started to purr. It all sounded so ridiculous to Nat's ears, but that only made it more fun.
Nat soon lost control of himself and squirted his sauce into her intestinal tract. He was surprised by how quickly it happened, and faded off into a strange, wordless corner of his head for a while as the fluids flew out of his cock and his body shook. But then he stopped coming, and opened his eyes.
CHAPTER TWO
Everybody left the party of their own accord. Chopsoman had fallen off the piano stool after one too many tumblers of bourbon, and nobody could figure out anything to do once he was out of commission. Not that they were all a bunch of dullards, it's just that they were all too stoned and drunk to do much more than watch somebody else do something, and once the indefatigable Chopsoman could no longer do anything but snore, they took about a half hour to figure they might as well go home.
Almost everybody left, that is. When Nat got up early the next afternoon, he stumbled over Chopsoman asleep on the rug, and then he walked into the bathroom and found DesSeychelles and the sixteen year old indulging in unspeakable practices in the tub.
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Morning, Nathan! Nice party!"
"I'm gonna piss."
"Long as you don't do it in the tub, it's fine with me."
Lisa seemed to be in the middle of an orgasm, but Nat couldn't tell for sure, and besides, he didn't care. He just wanted to relieve himself and get back to the bedroom with Lee. She'd probably revive soon, and he thought he ought to take off the gag and rope and belt before she got up and wondered how she'd gotten into this.
Nat went back into the bedroom and slapped Lee around till she woke up. Her eyes opened wide, but nothing else did, seeing as how she was trussed up and all.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t! What do the words 'You've been a bad girl mean to you?"
Lee was making a melange of muffled sounds through the pillow case, and Nat chuckled and pinched her tits.
"Don't try to speak, you dumbie, just nod your head. Up and down means 'Yes' and side to side means 'No'."
Lee wagged her head from side to side. Nat realized that only meant there was no way she could answer his question 'Yes' or 'No'. He knew that already, of course, but it was fun to tease her. Maybe she'd stop tripping so much if he gave her a hard enough time of it.
"Do you like to be spanked, little girl?"
Lee's eyes bugged, and she kicked her feet into the air and rattled her throat.
"Not your feet, your head. Side to side or up and down. Now, try it again."
Lee was whimpering. Nat felt bad, and undid her gag. But he didn't want to undo the rest of her bonds. After all, she might be mad. No point leaving oneself wide open!
"Jee-zus, Nat! I have a headache!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t! That's nothing, wait till you roll over on your rump!"
"Ow! What were you doing to me last night?"
"I was fucking you, but you kept forgetting a minute or so after I finished, so I kept fucking you. Also, I spanked you for being such a bad girl, and you seemed to like it. Really!"
"Hmmm. I seem to remember something like that. I didn't want to trip last night, honest. I didn't switch the pills, Nat."
"I know. Chopsoman did, that piece of shit!"
"Jee-zus, Nat! Did I ... did I ... ask you to tie me up like this?"
Nat leaned back against the pillows and gave it some thought. Naturally, if he told her it had been his idea, she'd find it less credible that she'd liked it, and then she might get angry. On the other hand, if he told her she'd asked for it, how could she doubt that she'd liked it? Especially seeing as how she did, anyway!
"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you were bored, and you liked it. It means you regressed to childhood again, acid trip alternate head-space number four, the same old shit. At least this time it was interesting."
"Oh. Hmm."
"Yeah, 'Oh'. Want me to untie you now?"
"Well, I guess so."
"You mean you're not sure."
"I dunno, I mean, I'm not sure what I mean, I mean ... Jee-zus, I'm so fucking wasted, Nat! My head feels like a gravel pit."
"Well, maybe I'll leave you tied up for a while."
"Na-a-at!"
"Don't fuss, or I'll put the gag back on."
"Nay-than! What's got into you?"
"Shut up," he lied, "it was your idea."
Lee pouted, but she was too groggy to complain. Also tired. Nat was beginning to feel less bored. If she wanted to trip, she'd have to let him spank her, and that was that. And that might be interesting. More interesting than bending beer cans till they broke.
Nat got dressed and leaned over on the bed.
"I'm going out for a ride in the Ferrari. Want to come?"
"Huh?"
"Ah, shit. Stop tripping so much, you're frying your brain."
Nat started untying her and helped her into her clothes. She was very stiff, and she needed his assistance. Nat always liked to go for a drive on mornings after. He was a race car driver on the side, nothing big time, just a few trophies from small meets here and there, and a first prize in a relatively important race in Utah from the summer before.
Nat loved the kick he got from the split second timing required to make speed in heavy rush hour traffic. He would dart out into the temporary space between two moving lanes of traffic and then dash back into the mainstream f in front of the three or four slow bastards who'd been impeding his progress, and make his dash just a second or so before the space between lanes disappeared. Many people were afraid to drive with him. Chopsoman was reduced to a screaming puddle one night when Nat rushed him and his date to her dorm with only five minutes and a dozen traffic lights before curfew. Nat really enjoyed that night, it had shut the asshole up for days. And he would never ride with Nat again, which was also fine with him. Nat had never had an accident. He could be another A. J. Foyt, he felt. He had trophies to make his case convincing. He just didn't have the time for it was all. He was too damned successful. He got invited to conferences all over the world. And he got bored. Rich and bored.
Nat zoomed his Ferrari around a moving van and slipped between the side of the truck and a rapidly approaching stream of oncoming traffic. But he knew he had two seconds, and probably wouldn't need much more than one and a half to complete the maneuver. He swung in front of the van just as a Ford Pinto barreled past him on the left.
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Jee-zus, Nat! We could've been killed!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
Lee had her hand at her collar bone. She was gasping, but Nat just cocked his head to the side and grinned. Another A. J. Foyt. Terrific!
"Where are we going, Nat?"
"Up into the mountains. I like to take the hairpin turns at seventy-five m.p.h., they're a challenge."
"Oh, Nat!"
"Quiet, you dumb shit! I'm enjoying myself!"
Nat saw the radar trap coming up and pushed the button on the little electrical gizmo he'd built one afternoon at the lab when he was bored. It scrambled the radar, and he went past at eighty and watched in the rear-view mirror as some sap doing seventy triggered the radar and got a state trooper stuck on his tail.
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nat fondled the stick shift and got onto the high road that led up the mountain. This was the best part of the trip: bringing the car screeching around a sharp bend with inches to spare on the drop side. He'd take the first one at sixty-five to warm up, and watch out the side mirror and stare down into the canyon.
"Don't you grab onto me if you get scared, or we'll go over. Got me?"
"Jee-zus, Nat!"
"Ah, don't be chicken, as long as you don't get killed, you'll get off on it! It's fun!"
As long as he put it that way, Lee figured she might as well relax and enjoy herself. If they got killed, it would be quick at least, and if they didn't, it would be quite a rush. Especially as there was still a trace of mescaline in her head to enhance the thrill.
Nat was feeling in great form. He decided to take the sharpest turn at ninety. His wheels screeched, and he skidded dangerously near to the edge and felt the back of the Ferrari start to fishtail. He had about a half second to right himself, and spun the steering wheel with a vengeance into the skid and pulled out just as the right rear tire was biting into the soft gravel at the brink. He shot out past the bend and coasted at a mere eighty along the straight stretch of empty mountain road that came after it.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Oh Jesus, Nat, Jee-zus!!"
"Quiet! That was fun!"
They were up at the park at the top now. Not much of a park in terms of benches and crowds and officials in uniforms. But lots of trees and rocks and brambles, and a wonderful view. Nat parked his sports car with a sudden drop of speed that would have sent him and Lee crashing into the dashboard if it weren't for the seat belts and the excellent shocks which he'd installed himself.
"H-t-t-t-t-t! Nice view."
Lee climbed out of the car and jumped around on the grass. They were only about five feet from the rock slide. She stood up on a sharp, jutting boulder and gazed down into the valley. The boulder oscillated beneath her as she bobbed up and down. It was balanced on a set of smaller rocks, and she had to keep her balance carefully if she didn't want it to crash down into the dale with her riding on top of it.
Nat stared at the rocking stone with his wife on it and mulled. An interesting problem in mechanics, he decided. He could jump onto the back of it, the momentum of the jolt would make her fall back, not forward, and if he bent his knees and crouched, he'd catch her and roll off with her into the grass before the boulder came loose and crashed into the valley. Worth a try.
Nat jumped, Lee screamed and fell backwards, Nat crouched and caught her, then he threw the two of them into the grass as the rock reared up, came loose, and fell.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Lee's body was wracked with sobs. He'd scared the shit out of her, almost literally. He felt like a bad boy, and bit her ear and rolled her over a few times in the grass.
"Nat, Nat, Nat! One of these days you'll kill both of us! You're so crazy!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t! Shut up, you love it!"
He pulled down her skirt until it locked about her knees, then he tugged her blouse down over her elbows and immobilized her arms. Then Nat yanked down his hip-huggers and stuck his prick into her labia. He rubbed it around in her lips until they grew wet, and then he started shoving it gently inside her, little by little until she'd been coaxed into taking it in to the balls. She couldn't move her limbs at all, and he had her completely covered with his own. Lee's wrap-around sunglasses fell free of her ears as she tossed her tangling hair from side to side and moaned.
"Oh, Nat, you're such an imp!"
Lee wrapped her walls around his piston and matched its rhythm. She felt the come getting ready inside her, getting ready to release itself and slide down the smooth siding of his cylinder. The tension was mounting in his cock, she could feel it, it was throbbing against the rings of her cunt muscles. She let them dilate like pupils in a light bath of varying intensity, wringing the rigid thing like a wash cloth, a stiff cloth that only had wetness in its middle, wetness oozing gently from the tip, the tiny hole, wet jism clearing a path for thicker, hotter liquids.
Lee saw one of her favorite mathematical models, the cylinder full of peas. How large a hole in the cylinder for all the peas to spill out? Three times the diameter of a pea, she remembered. But she didn't see peas, she saw a bucketful of wriggling sperm, and they were linked head to tail in a tight mesh, fighting to stay in the cylinder. But the slit at the mouth at the bottom of it got larger, larger, as large as one of the sperm, and his friends had to hold him tight to keep him from slipping away. The pressure for release forced him to spin in place like a frenzied whirling Dervish, and as the hole got bigger, his friends started to get excited, they had to fight to keep their grip on their friend. There were six of them surrounding him, forming a hexagonal pattern like a honeycomb, and when the hole got three times as big as the agitated sperm in the center, the six surrounding him started to spin like Dervishes, too, and they lost their grip on their friend, and he spilled out the hole, and they followed him, and then all the sperms followed, swallowed up in the heavy suction working at the hole.
As the sperm spun around the circle enclosing the hexagon, they traced out a triangular path with sloping sides, a shape that looked like the curvaceous triangle of a wet, tufted cunt, the shape that was sucking the sperm away now, working at Nat's cylinder, trying to force the come to come out of him and fill up her hole.
The diagrams in Lee's mind began to dance and stretch and take on colors. Deep red whirls of triangular mesh work sucked and sucked and a glowing crimson cylinder, became a whirlpool that began to gulp down darting black screaming dots of sperm. Her mind dissolved in a blur of dots and dizzy swirlings. Everything was bright blood red, the color of the light burning through her tightly shut lids. She felt a liquid with a very high Reynolds number splash out of an aperture and crash in waves against the agitated tissues of her womb. Lee forgot how to breathe, and screamed.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!"
Nat grunted and drooled and shredded her insides with a few good bangs before he went soft. He dragged his shrinking cock through the morass of sweet slime in her tubing, bumping her clit as he slid up and down on her groin.
"Oh, Jee-zus, Nat! What you do to my head! I saw those movies again, I was right in the middle of this incredible nonlinear differential manifold, it was sucking and spinning and...."
"Ah, quiet! I don't wanna hear that shit. Can't you just fuck!"
"Oh, Nat! It was so ... so...."
"You didn't see any of that shit last night when you were tripping, and you seemed to like it well enough."
"Oh, Nat," she cooed, nibbling his ear. "When you trip, you get lost in engineering movies, and I can hardly reach you. Humor me, honey, I've got my own movies, and they get me off."
"Well, tripping's one thing, fucking's another."
"Mmmmmm, sometimes. With you, I can't tell the difference so well, though."
"Hmph! When I was tying you up and spanking you, I didn't have any movies in my head. Just television: you know, sex and violence!"
"Yeah! I remember it now! I never remember it when I'm tripping like that. It must have been good!"
"Yeah, you liked it, all right!"
Nat got off her and pulled her skirt and blouse back up so she could move freely again. As she was buttoning and zippering, he thought about things. He didn't need to think about bridges and struts when he was tying and spanking, he got all the sense of thrills and structures he needed playing with knots and such. And she didn't mind that at all, at least when she was tripping. And she was pretty confined just now, too, she couldn't move her limbs at all.
"You were pretty pinned this time, and you got off on it pretty well. How about that?"
"Oh, Nat! Come off it!"
"No, it's true. What's wrong with a few ropes and stuff? As much fun as race car driving, except you get to fuck, too!"
Nat was wondering. There was a possibility that the reason they were both so bored, so much of the time was due to their being so lost in their private professional worlds, worlds they could hardly talk about with anybody else. They invested so much of themselves into those worlds, even a lot of their most private fantasy lives got laced with a little too much mathematics. What they needed was a hobby to share, something to replace their mental isolationism. Maybe they ought to trip again together soon, do the ropes and stuff, why not? It seemed to put them into a common space, and that was nice. It was also so much fun! Silly stuff, granted, but what's wrong with being silly? Sex should be dry and sober like a text book, maybe?
"Oh well, I guess I'm bored enough to try anything, Nat. I guess I did get off on it. It seems so ridiculous, though, but nowhere near so ridiculous as your maniacal driving. You're really going to get the two of us killed some day if you keep that up, you know. That wouldn't be much fun, Nat. I'll make you a deal. We can try the ropes business if you cut down on the daredevil business."
"Ah, shit. I like to drive, I'm a champion racer!"
"So? Save it for the tracks. It scares me!"
"Well...."
"Oh, Nathan, you're such a spoiled little boy!"
"Ahhhh! All right, all right! Let's trip again in a few days and try out the bondage thing. You seemed to like it, remember."
"Yeah, damned if I know why. I guess I've always been attracted by your wildness, Nat. That would seem to be the perfect forum for your madcap inclinations. Just don't hurt me, you bastard!"
"Hurt you? What for? The fun is almost hurting, and then stopping. Why would I want to hurt you, I love you!"
"Well, that's good to hear. Why don't you kiss me?"
Nat slipped his arms around her and shoved his tongue into her mouth. Lee growled like a tiger and bit it, not too hard, just enough to startle him. Then she giggled and slobbered all over his face. They got back into the car, and Nat threw the car into reverse and backed out with an incredible rush of acceleration to the brink of the road.
"Nathan! You promised!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nat behaved himself, though, and didn't take any of the turns at more than sixty. He only passed three trucks on the way back, and while he did scramble the radar trap again, he didn't do more than sixty-five going through it. Lee was pleased, and' hugged him as he drove. They were back home a little later than they would have been if Nat had had his way, but it was still mid-afternoon, and they hadn't missed anything. If anything, they'd given Chopsoman and DesSeychelles a little more time to get their acts together so that Nat could throw them out of the house without causing any ill feelings.
The Ferrari pulled into the driveway and Nat and Lee jumped out and strutted to the door. They walked into the living room and found Chopsoman pouring gin into his face on the floor.
"Dumb shit! You're ruining our rug."
"Oh! Come on Nathan, piss on me, Come on Nathan, can't you see...."
Chopsoman was too drunk to keep the tune going. His voice was cracking at every other word, and there was too much gin in his mouth to facilitate what could be called dulcet tones. But he croaked and bellowed nonetheless, and DesSeychelles and Lisa sauntered into the room and sat on him.
"Chopsoman," DesSeychelles sneered.
"you're an ass hole. It's a waste of good gin you're perpetrating, pig. Your mouth isn't deserving of anything better than piss water!"
DesSeychelles pulled out his cock and pissed into Chopsoman's face.
"O-ho-ho-ho! Grr-ross!!"
"If you don't like it, don't sing about it!"
"I sing about getting pissed on by Nathan, not by a greasy Frenchman like you! O-ho-ho-ho! Stop it, dumb Frog! Why don't you go lose a war with the Germans or something! Yecch!"
Fortunately for Chopsoman, DesSeychelles' bladder wasn't very full. The latter put his cock back in his pants and fell back into Lisa's plump and lovely lap. She cradled his head and kissed his eye balls for a while. DesSeychelles smiled and stuck his unshod feet into Chopsoman's face. Chopsoman snorted, but he couldn't get away. There was too much weight squatting on him, and he was too drunk to move with much coordination. Nat thought this was an ideal moment, and pulled his prick out and walked over.
"Oh no! Nathan, Nathan!"
"Ah, shut up, you ugly jerk-off. You want me to piss in your face, I'll piss in your face!"
"No! No! No-o-o!"
Chopsoman grunted like a bull who'd just got his balls tangled in a briar patch and pushed DesSeychelles and Lisa off his middle. He scrambled to his feet awkwardly and lunged for the door. Nathan chased him around the room while DesSeychelles and Lisa tried to block his exit. Nat was wagging his cock at him, and Chopsoman lifted a window and jumped out onto the lawn. Nat pissed through the window and managed to get a few drops on Chopsoman's shoes. Chopsoman fell over backwards and landed flat on his ass.
"Oh! Come on Nathan, piss on me, come on Nathan, can't you see...."
"Hypocrite!"
Nathan shut the window and locked the front door. DesSeychelles and Lee and Lisa were all laughing, and Nat stuck his meat back in its bag and zipped his fly.
"Good show, Nathan! Maybe he'll come up with a new tune!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Lisa had forgotten to button her blouse, and her lovely tits were hanging out again. DesSeychelles stood in front of her to save her embarrassment, and buttoned her in. Then he pulled her by the hand to the couch and instructed her to help him into his shoes.
"Who were the jerk-offs who smashed up your plants last night?"
"Mitch and Carol."
"Oh, that's no problem, then. He'll say, 'Chalk it up to being stoned' or something like that, and then he'll lay a pound of dope on you to compensate for the damage. Basically, he's harmless enough, just a bit uncoordinated upstairs."
"Yeah. Who's this babe Carol, anyhow?"
DesSeychelles stretched out his legs on the couch and wiggled his toes inside the shoes. Lisa sprawled across him and licked his neck. DesSeychelles looked tired, but rather pleased with himself just the same.
"Carol? I thought you knew that story, Nathan. Arnold picked her up on a subway, and she came over to Mitch's one night with him and took out a jar of spermicidal jelly and started giving a demonstration. She's a hooker, but she does it for fun as well as money. Mitchell, being a bit uncoordinated upstairs like I was saying, got a crush on her, and after she fucked for Arnold and Barry and Jayboy and the other guys in the house, Mitch came over on his motorcycle one night and drove away with her. They're living together now, been going on for a week already, which for Mitch is some kind of a record. Probably is for Carol, too!"
"How does he ever get any work done?"
"Well, he trips every other day, and he says that helps his concentration."
CHAPTER THREE
Mitch was too wasted to drive, but Carol didn't have a license, so he drove anyway. The big beat-up station wagon weaved from one side of the road to the other like a drunken hippopotamus, and Carol rolled down the window just in case the motion sickness she was feeling got the better of her will power.
"Damn, fuckin' shame about all your friend's plants."
"Hee-hee! Yeah, sorta like cancer!"
"What?"
"Hee-hee! Why don't you throw up? I'd like to watch!"
"Mitchell, you're disgusting!"
"Yeah, sorta like cancer. Hee-hee!"
Carol reached into her purse and pulled out a silver spoon and a small tightly wrapped piece of aluminum foil. As she started to open it, the car swung sharply and rose up a bit on the left side as Mitch rode on the edges of the right wheels around the corner of a fortunately vacant intersection.
"Watch it, ass hole! I almost spilled the coke out the window!"
"I can't help it! I'm too stoned, and my uppers are colliding with my downers, and I can't see anything."
"Well, take a snort of crystal, maybe it will clear your head."
"Yeah, sorta like cancer. Hee-hee!"
Actually, Mitch could see the road very well. He just couldn't see the cars and buildings lining the sides of it. He could feel Carol shoving the silver spoon into his nostril, and he pushed his index finger against the flap of the unoccupied nose hole and snorted. The crystals rushed into the tender mucous membranes and burned divinely. All his eight sinus cavities grew numb and percussed with pleasure. The top of his head floated off up to the roof of the car and he grinned like a debauched lizard. He started to giggle in a high falsetto, his adam's apple bouncing like a yoyo in his slender, twitching throat. The road disappeared for a moment in a blast of white glare, then returned to his vision, packaged in a slightly wider tunnel than before. He could see the parked cars and lampposts now, and even the traffic lights two blocks away down the road. It was three o'clock in the morning, and there weren't any cars. Mitch thought that was interesting and decided it meant he didn't have to give any more attention to his driving than he was giving to it now. As one of his tires went up and over a curb, he thought that perhaps he should readjust that estimate, but then he realized that bouncing over a curb couldn't do much damage anyway, unless it made Carol spill the cocaine on the floor. But she was used to his driving, so she'd have no excuse if she spilled. In fact, he'd have every excuse to beat her ass into chuck ground if she fucked up. That was intuitively obvious, as far as he was concerned.
"Mitchell! Goddammit, how did you ever pass your fucking driving test?"
"I didn't, I slipped the guy a twenty and we went into a bar and got tanked till he had to bring me back."
"Mitchell! Stop it! You're going to smash into the mailbox if you don't get off the curb!"
"Oh! Hee-hee!"
Mitchell bumped his muffler on the high curb and watched it generate sparks in the rear view mirror as it scraped across the gutter. He thought that was interesting, and spun the wheel a few too many times and rebounded off the far curb on the other side of the street before he righted himself.
"Mitchell!!"
"Shut up, Carol, or I'll break your leg!"
Mitchell's rectum was beginning to be bothered by the constant shocks of impact, so he dropped the car into first gear and snailed along the street with two wheels in the gutter at slightly less than ten miles an hour.
"Where's my house, Carol?"
Carol was crying. She had her face buried in her forearms over the dashboard, and seemed to be muttering obscenities.
"Watch it, bitch, you'll spill the cocaine!"
"Shit head!"
"Shut up, Carol, or I'll break your leg!"
"You just passed your house, Mitchell. It's two doors behind you!"
"The green one?"
Carol screamed. Mitchell could be so frustrating sometimes! She daubed her eyes with a handkerchief that she'd pulled out of her cleavage and growled.
"Of course the green one! Don't you even know where you live?"
"Sometimes. But not now, I'm too stoned. Besides, what's so interesting about green?"
"Stop the car, Mitchell. I'm getting out."
Mitchell ground the gears and pulled up the emergency break. Then he grappled Carol's wrist and glowered at her with two glazed, bloodshot eyes.
"No! I'm getting out!"
"What am I supposed to do, then, sit here all night?"
"No! Get out!"
Mitch opened his door and pulled her out through it after-him. When he got her outside, he dragged her to her feet and put his arm around her waist.
"You're really nice, Carol. Sorta like cancer. Hee-hee!"
"Oh, Mitchell! Shut up!"
Mitchell was so impossible, but at least he was predictable: predictably off the wall, like a naughty child. It was hard to put up with in public, but it made for a lot of excitement in bed. That was the most important thing to Carol. She liked to fuck, and she'd fucked just about everything in her time: men, women, animals, she was always willing to experiment. As for Mitchell, he didn't leave his own experimental tendencies in the lab, he treated everything with scientific curiosity and detachment. As long as he thought something interesting, he would maintain the fascination of a three year old for it. It was part of his charm. About the only part, but Carol didn't care much for charm. In four years of hooking, casual and serious, she had never known more than one or two men who had cocks as mammoth as Mitchell's, and she had never met anyone as willing to try anything at all with it, or with the rest of his body, for that matter. That was a lot more important than charm!
Carol had to help him through the door. He was able to find his keys, but he couldn't figure out what to do with them once he had them in his hands. He just held them dangling between his fingers, and thought they were very interesting. Carol had to snatch them away from him and undo the locks. Mitchell wanted to play with the lock and took a bent paper clip out of his watch fob pocket and started toying with the keyhole. Carol had to pull him away, and he dropped the paper clip on the floor and followed her without a fuss. He ran his fingers along the banister and made the wood squeak by inducing a frictional drag on the varnish, and he thought that was interesting. Carol reached into his pants and grabbed his cock, knowing that was the only certain way to distract him. Mitchell's eyes rose from the banister and twinkled at her face.
"Sorta like cancer, hee-hee!"
Carol dragged him by the cock to the door of his apartment and opened the lock. By the time the door swung open, Mitchell was already stiff. Carol slammed the door behind him and pulled him to bed. She undid his belt and slid his pants down his legs, then hoisted up her gown over her head and let her tits bounce while she pulled it off her and tossed it to the floor on top of a heap of circuit boards and transistors and oscilloscope parts that Mitchell liked to litter his floors with. She pushed off the math and physics books from the mattress and threw her legs up over Mitchell's shoulders and pushed his cock down into her ass.
"I've been constipated lately, loosen me up, will you?"
"That sounds sloppy, I'd rather fuck your cunt."
"Mitchell! I wanna be ass fucked!"
"No!"
"Goddammit, if you don't fuck my ass, I'll cut your balls off!"
Carol regretted saying that immediately. She could insult and berate him about almost anything, and Mitchell wouldn't even hear her, much less take offense. But the slightest bit of a threat directed at his private parts, and Mitchell became instantly irrational. There were only two things Mitchell cared about, his electronic gadgeteering and his precious balls. It made for a limited world-view, but an exceedingly intense one. Mitchell was slapping her face and grabbing for some electrical wiring.
"Cut my balls off! You fucking bitch!"
"Mitchell! I wasn't serious! Honest! Really! Oh, shit!"
Mitchell had her wrists wrapped in wire, and soon had her feet snared to the bedposts. The wires cut harshly into her skin, and she lifted up her bound hands and brought them down together on his neck.
"Cut my balls off! Cut my BALLS off?!"
Mitchell evaded her thrusts and took the lead of wire from her wrists and coiled it around the legs of the lamp table. The lamp table also served as a filing cabinet for journal articles and problem sets, and so was too heavy for Carol to knock over.
Mitchell was panting when he finished. Then he had another idea. He took the packet of coke from Carol's pocketbook and poured some of the powder into a small vial of clear chemicals. He shook the vial and took a Q-tip and started rubbing the stuff into her nipples.
"Hee-hee! Dimethyl sulphoxide! Put something into solution with it and apply it to the skin, and it gets absorbed immediately into the bloodstream, and carries what ever's dissolved in it right along with it!"
"Mitchell!"
That ought to tame her, he figured. With her tits drenched in pure cocaine, she'll be moaning and writhing with unbearable pleasure. Mitchell had made a careful study of her erogenous zones their first night in bed together, and he'd been very interested to discover that she had the most sensitive nipples of any woman he'd ever slept with. She'd have an orgasm for sure, and he'd just sit at the base of the bed and watch her shiver. She'd be wanting him to stroke her inflamed nipples, to fuck her, but he wouldn't do a thing until she was ready to listen to his idea of reason.
"Aaaah! Shit! Suck my tits, Mitchell! Immediately!!"
"No. I don't want to fuck your ass."
"I'm not asking you to fuck my ass!" she screamed. "Just suck my tits, this is unbearable!"
"Only if you say you want your cunt fucked!"
"Mitchell!!"
Mitchell was chortling with glee. He hadn't had such interesting fun since he'd stuck a fly to a stick of solder with some Elmer's Glue and turned on the solder gun. Carol was frothing at the lips a bit, but she had to say the right words, or he wouldn't do anything. Those were the rules, and if you want to get fucked in my house, you have to fuck by my rules! "Well?"
"All right! All right!"
Mitchell took twelve inches of gnarled male member and rammed them into Carol's twat. She was the only woman he'd known who had enough room for him to get his prick all the way in without screaming for him to stop. He thought he'd see what she'd do if he was nice to her, so he bent down over her tortured tits and bit hard into her nipples. She liked the sharp feel of his incisors, so he worked the points into the bases of her nipples and wiggled his gums until her points grew bloated and raw. He matched his chomping rhythm with his fucking strokes, and Carol started to grunt and wail. Carol didn't like to waste time on foreplay, she wanted to get right down to it and scream. She also had terrifically powerful cunt muscles, thanks to years of practice and hundreds of willing subjects. Mitchell admired her vast experience, it made her fucking so interesting.
"Aaaagh! Harder, lover, harder!"
Mitchell rammed into her gullet and made the bed shake. Carol liked that, and started to drool. She had absolutely no inhibitions; most women Mitchell'd been with felt ashamed to let themselves behave like mindless beasts in front of him, but not Carol. If he ever told her she was disgustingly crude when she got off, she'd kick him in the balls. She didn't take any shit, and Mitchell liked that. That way, he didn't have to waste his "precious mental energy trying to figure out what she wanted or didn't want. She had a total absence of tact, which made living with her bearable. He always made mistakes with women who had tact. Tact meant expecting the other person to figure out what you wanted without having to be blunt about it. But Mitchell couldn't figure out such things at all, they didn't have circuit diagrams, and the equations for them couldn't be solved without an IBM-360 and a hundred hours of computer time. And even then, they probably didn't have easy solutions.
Mitchell was about to come, but Carol was more worked "p and shot off first with a yowl. Mitchell stopped stroking and stared at her wrists.
"Do you like it? Do you like the wires?"
"Huh? Ohhh! I've been trying not to pay attention."
"Not fun. Try to concentrate on them, and tell me if you like it."
He decided to help her out, and reached for the vial of cocaine and DMSO solution and started daubing the slightly cloudy liquid on the places where the wires were cutting her. First the wrists, then the ankles. Then he waited for her reaction, stroking her gently with his prick to coax her into a favorable opinion.
"Try to struggle. That should make it feel more interesting."
Mitchell put the vial back on the floor and reached across to the tape recorder he kept under the bed. He plugged in the microphone and lifted it over the pillows and dangled it over Carol's mouth.
"Describe it, Carol. But don't crowd the microphone. That would make the recording sound distorted-"
Carol was easily excited by Mitchell's kinks. He was always doing something crazy like this, and she'd been wondering when he'd get around to bondage. The cocaine had gone straight into her bloodstream as Mitchell predicted it would, and all the skin around her wrists and ankles felt inflamed with ' a stultifying mixture of pains and pleasures.
"The blood pressure ... real high from the wires ... they cut, cut deep, it hurts....! try to wiggle free, they cut deeper, but the pain ... swallowed up by cocaine burn, lovely hot, then cold, then hot, always intense, burns out the walls of the capillaries, mmmmm."
"How does it feel compared to your nipples? Is the cocaine rush the same in all three places?"
"No! No, nipples are burning, wonderful, orgasms ... wrists and ankles, excites me, tight pressure, mix with blood, heavy ... feels good only when you fuck me, then whole body gets shook up, wrists and ankles take all the pressure, feel sex seeping out my toes and finger tips, whole body, mmmmm...."
Mitchell left the mike hanging over the backboard of the bed and started fucking again. He wanted to see if what she said was true. He started pumping her hard and grinding into her pelvis, working cocaine-dipped fingers into her clit. Now she had cocaine in four places, every place of interest. Later, he'd put some on his cock and keep it up for an hour that way. Cocaine made everything slow down, which was very interesting.
"Oh! Shit! Not real! Oh ... Mitchell!"
Mitchell chewed her coke-soaked tits, tickled her clit with coke-soaked fingers, pushed her torso around to chafe her coke-soaked wrists and ankles. Carol was snorting, crying, whimpering, sighing. Interesting.
This time, they came together. Mitchell shot a blast of scum into her barrel and dropped his face into her tits. Carol's throat was totally distended. It was choked with phlegm, and the phlegm rattled as she tried to breathe. Carol's eyes were rolled back in her skull, and her frame was shuddering within the confines of the wires. A total body convulsion, an enjoyable case of epilepsy-like lust. Complete release. Carol wouldn't even need to fuck again. She'd be satisfied. Not that she'd mind doing it again if Mitchell got it up once more.
Mitchell groped on the floor for the OFF switch on the tape recorder. He pecked at Carol's cheeks and pushed the PLAYBACK button. The sounds of the past few minutes started up again, and Mitchell felt himself grow hard with empathy and he savored the revival of the most recent bout of balling with his eager strumpet. He started to grind again, and got her screaming. His grunts and her screams started falling into the beat of the ones of the tape, almost naturally, without either of them thinking about it. It was like getting two fucks for the price of one, and this time was more than twice as good.
"Oh, I wish I had another tape recorder to record that with. What an overdub, Carol! You really fuck!"
Carol's ears still heard the tape of their last fuck, the illusion of echo that the screams of her second fuck filled her with. She was lost in her sensual wallowing, and could hardly filter out Mitchell's remarks from all the other voices and noises in her head. Mitchell had to be her very best lover, which was saying a lot. Mitchell was brilliant, which in itself didn't matter to her very much, but his mathematical ingenuity seemed to have something to do with his boundless energy, endless intensity continual quest for novelty. She didn't understand what the connection was, but she made a point of leaving him alone when he was lost in his math books or tinkering with his gadgets. Whatever the connection was, she didn't want it to break down. After he'd had his fill of equations, he was always good for three or four hours of sack time. He could re-invent General Relativity for all she cared, as long as it meant she'd get those three or four hours!
"I think I like these wires," Carol said. "I really got off. The tape recorder's even better, though. I always like the tape recorder."
"The cocaine must be dead by now," Mitchell muttered. "Want some more?"
"Let's smoke some more dope, I want to stay up there."
"Maybe I should put some coke on my cock now, then I could fuck you for an hour. How about it?"
"I need some dope. Light up a jay, Mitchell, I need some dope."
"Hey, that feels good. Q-tip's too slow, though, maybe I should just pour it onto the tip and let it trickle down. Ahhhh! Interesting!"
"Mitchell, if I don't have some dope soon, I'll come down. Will you fucking light up a jay, Mitchell?"
"Mmmm! I can feel all the little prickles on the bulb send out sparks-Sorta like cancer, hee-hee!"
"Mitchell! Light me a joint! Immediately!!"
"Ah! It's hard again! Good! That feels real good! I'm going to slip it in now, Carol, and keep it in for an hour! Want me to put on the tape recorder?"
"Mitchell!! I can't fucking take a fucking hour without a goddam fucking joint!!"
Carol was screaming and rocking the bed. Mitchell nearly fell out of her box, and he looked at her quizzically.
"What's the matter with you. Carol?"
"I ... Want ... A joint!!"
"Oh. Why didn't you say so, instead of getting ridiculous about it?"
Carol spat in his face and turned red. She started to let loose with a torrent of abuse, and Mitchell frowned. This wouldn't be any fun if she was going to be like this. Then he got an idea.
"Hey, why don't I light up a joint?"
"What do you think I've been pleading with you for for the past five minutes?!!"
"Huh?"
Carol stopped shouting. There wasn't any point to it. He only got mad when it was inappropriate. As long as he was going to light up the joint she wanted, there was no point tempting him into a tirade. Mitchell stuck a fat reefer between her lips and lit it up for her. She took a deep toke, and felt the white ash at the end fall off and speckle her cleavage. Mitchell tried to take the jay away from her to get some for his own head, but she turned her face away from him and sucked at it greedily. She didn't want to suffer any interruptions, she wasn't high enough yet. Mitchell tried to take it away a couple more times, but she evaded him and got in five more tokes before he managed to wrench it from her mouth. But by that time, she was properly blasted, and was quite willing to let him get himself into the same condition.
"Oh! Oh, that's much better, Mitchell! Oh, shit!"
"I'm going to set the alarm clock for precisely one hour from now. The snooze alarm will go off five minutes before the hour's up, and that's when I'm going to start pounding you to shit, and then, when the final bell rings, I'm going to come all over the walls of your fucking twat. What do you think, do you like my plan?"
"Whew! Oh God, Mitchell, I just can't tell you how much I needed that. Why, I hadn't had a toke since we were at Nat's place. I can't survive more than a couple hours without a few hits of weed. Cocaine is nice as icing, but I need some cake with it, if you know what I mean."
"Let's see, I'll start off really slow, just running the gauntlet so to speak, and work you up little by little. After about fifteen minutes, you should be having one orgasm after another. Women are so strange that way, they can keep having orgasm after orgasm. If I were like that, I don't think I'd ever be able to get my head back in my skull to do any thinking with. Maybe that's why women are so stupid. I've never known one who could tell a matrix array from a tensor product. Except for Helga, the particle physics grad student at the Institute. But then, Helga was frigid, I couldn't do anything to get her off, and she'd only let me fuck her once a night. It just goes to show, I guess...."
"Oh, Mitchell, Mitchell, I'm so stoned! Shit, I'm fucking blown away! Oh, wow! Where'd you get this dynamite dope? You always have such super dope, Mitchell. Get me an ounce or two for next week-end, will you? Please?"
"What I could do. of course, is start off fast, and then, once you're really getting off, I could pound away until I feel like I'm just about to come, and then I'll hold back and stop cold, and that'll drive you crazy, so crazy that you'll come twice as hard once I start up with my stroking again. What do you think, Carol? Fast or slow for starters? Any preference? Tell me, before the clock starts up."
"Even half an ounce, Mitchell, anything! Just let me have some of that incredible weed! It's such a fucking body high, Mitchell. I could fuck for days on that stuff, it's so terrific! If you give me half an ounce, I'll give you a cocaine blow-job in the shower stall and do all the work myself, I'll stick up three fingers in your ass and massage your prostate gland, I'll give you the best fucking blow-job you ever had in your life, I promise, I'll even give you two, I'll sit on you and work your cock up my ass and squeeze the life out of it while I shove reefer in your mouth, I'll bake some hash brownies, too, and we can eat them an hour before, just let me have some of that dope, Mitchell. Oh, please. Mitchell, I'll even let you watch me fuck the dog!"
CHAPTER FOUR
"Well, really, you understand, this is a rather private matter you're inquiring after. But of course, if you would be so kind as to proffer us a few psychedelic tokens of your rapt attention, I am sure that the young lady and myself might be persuaded...."
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t! Get the mescaline yourself, it's in the aspirin jar in the closet!"
DesSeychelles smirked and walked to the closet. Lisa tagged along, her firm young breasts bouncing beneath her sheer blouse most deliciously. DesSeychelles found the bottle and popped a pill in Lisa's mouth, then dropped another in his own.
"Come, my dear, we must show them your delightful bag of tricks."
DesSeychelles undid her blouse and unclasped her skirt and had her standing nude inside the closet. The door was open only slightly, but wide enough for Nat and Lee to get a gander of her luscious plump nipples and the bright red burning bush between her sleek white thighs. Nat got a hard-on immediately upon catching a flash of that scarlet beaver. Obviously Irish, he mused. Obviously desirous, he thought, of fondling and other things.
"Zut alors, ma chere! You must hold still so that I may get you properly inserted into this overcoat! Well, I suppose it is not truly an overcoat, merely one of Nat's black leather motorcycle jackets, Nat always wished he'd been a Hell's Angel instead of an overpaid engineer. Now, mon petit fleur, you must get your arms into the sleeves backwards, comme ca, tres bien, and now for the zipping up the backside! Ah, c'est tres magnifique! You look so well, oh yes! We must show them how prettily you fill out the contours of this tacky leather jacket!"
DesSeychelles swung the door fully opened and presented the pretty package to his audience of two. "Voila!" he cried, and spun her around so Nat and Lee could see his workmanship.
The jacket was strapped and zippered down the back, with Lisa's arms joined behind her and held together with a couple of belts which DesSeychelles had taken from the rack on the inner surface of the door.
"Notice how the legs ride freely from half-thigh down beneath the hem of the leather. Thus, we see that while Nathan is much too short to be presentable in public places, chere Lisa here is so much shorter still! But that is fine for a woman, a totally commendable, even desirable property! Ah, but this, of course, is only the beginning! The belt of the jacket is of course pulled as tight as is possible within the bounds of reason and taste. But there are, alas!, far too many degrees of freedom still allowed to the limbs, thereby preventing the most total appreciation of woman as flawless, immobile sculpture that it is my pleasure to indulge myself in in certain of my moods. And so, I proceed to the next stage of the alchemical process."
DesSeychelles pushed his hands through the racks of clothing in the closet until his fingers rested on something that struck his fancy. He pulled down a glossy, plastic raincoat, the narrow cut showing it obviously to be Lee's. DesSeychelles slung it backwards over the girl, throwing the hood up over her face and drawing the belt around her back and fastening it below her arms.
"Now, of course, one may put two coats on the same rack, but three or more would just not do at all. And so we must pay attention to the immediate problems raised by the present state of overdressing. Notice the hood, for instance, that is currently covering her lovely face. Is it not a hindrance for her? Does it not tend to make a nuisance of itself, you ask? That, monsieur et madame, is why I now take this scarf in my hands and sling it just so about her neck to prevent the hood from falling down!"
DesSeychelles tiptoed around Lisa's muffled form and stroked his chin. He espied the motorcycle chain strung over the wooden peg at the back of the closet, and whispered something into the place where her ear was hidden. She dropped to her knees, and DesSeychelles wrapped her ankles in the chain and brought the lead up under the raincoat and wrapped it around the belts that were already constricting her arms. Lisa was forced to lean backwards to accommodate the tension that the chain was creating along her spine, and Nat got a peek at the lower fringe of her bright red pussy.
"And now for the piece de resistance, the matter of the closet rod mentioned earlier in my preliminary remarks. Please excuse the mess I am about to create on your floor, but you understand, anything for art!"
DesSeychelles loosened the wooden rod holding up a six foot deep rack of coats and brusquely pulled it out of its sockets in the wall. The coats collapsed onto the floor, and DesSeychelles adjusted the rod until it had been contracted to a length of slightly under a yard and a half. The buffered plastic ends of the rod he inserted into the hollows of Lisa's knees. As they spread wide to accommodate the rod, DesSeychelles reached for the long dog leash hanging on another part of the closet's back wall and slung the noose over the hood and the scarf and affixed the handle to the highest peg on the wall, adjusting the lead of the leash until he found the fit that pleased him. Then he pushed a few boxes around to wedge between the wall and the girl's backside, giving the leash a degree of utility that indicated he wished it to be used for more than show. Lisa's knees were jutting out of the front of the deep closet, and Nat and Lee found themselves having an obscenely clear view of her shaded, but nonetheless plainly visible pussy.
"You recall, of course, that when I spoke of the use of the rod, there was a sense of double entendre, implying perhaps a rod of a different sort was what I had in mind. That interpretation does have its merits, and that is why I request you both retire to your bedroom and allow us the decency of a little privacy with which to indulge in the second meaning just alluded to."
"Nathan!" Lee squealed, "He's going to fuck her like that!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
DesSeychelles had the closet door shut as tightly as Lisa's knees would allow, and the jingle of change and banging belt buckle could be heard in the hallway as he dropped down his pants and squatted to get his rump over the closet rod and his cock into her crimson curls.
"We owe this all to you, Nathan, the sounds of your slapping and roping session late last evening while we lay in the closet inspired us to dare great things! May we be so fortunate now to return the favor!"
Nat had a massive erection, and he didn't want to stretch the already overly tight fabric of his hip-huggers. He grabbed Lee by the waist and pushed her into the bedroom.
"Your friend is crazy, Nat!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t! He never fails to amuse. Take your clothes off, I wanna fuck you."
"Nathan, really! We were just fucking an hour ago in the woods!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nathan pulled down her blouse and skirt, just like he'd done it an hour ago on the mountain top. That pinned her limbs for a few moments, just long enough for him to get the ropes where he'd dropped them that morning and get them back on her wrists and ankles.
Lee was bound up before she knew what was happening, and then Nat pushed her down onto the bed and got out of his clothes.
"Nathan! I'm tired!"
"I kept my promise, you keep yours."
"Nathan! You still drove like a maniac on the way back!"
"Whadya mean, I only passed three trucks, and I never went over seventy. Relatively speaking, that's pretty tame."
"Well, uh, we're going to do it tripping in a couple days, remember?"
Nathan wasn't going to be put off so easily. He could hear DesSeychelles pumping that lovely bitch in the closet on top of the pile of jackets and coats, and he wasn't about to be left out of things. Besides, how could Lee stop him? She was trussed to the point of helplessness on the bed. Sure, she could hop around a bit, but only if he let her get to her feet, and even if she did, all he had to do was throw her down again.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t! I'll get the mescaline, we can trip again now!"
"Nathan! No!!"
"Then be quiet! Consider this a test run."
Nat felt giddy. He sat down next to Lee on the bed and pulled her up to his knees. He spotted the hair brush on the lamp table and popped it up in the air a few times. He decided to use the back instead of the bristles, he wanted to break her in gently.
"Now, you've been a bad girl, Lee, your last fuck was too mathematical, and daddy's pissed off that you don't act more like a mindless animal when he's popping his gourd in your gunwale. You've been such a bad girl that daddy's gonna give you a spanking!"
"Oh, Nathan! I could just cry!"
"Why don't you, that's what-little girls are supposed to do when they're spanked."
"Nathan!"
Lee was sniffling. Soon her eyes were as red as her buns, and Nat felt like an ass hole, but enjoyed himself just the same. He wagged his head from side to side and grinned at the sight of her tufts sticking out between the cleavage of her globes. He ran the edge of the brush along her crack, tickling her slit just enough to make her begin coming. Nat chuckled and dipped his finger into the goo. He held it up and gazed at it for a few seconds. Then he wiped it off on the bedspread and picked up the brush again.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t! Bad girl! H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Waaaaaah!"
"Say, that sounded in character! Regress, my dear. Be a good girl and carry on like an infant, why don't you?"
"Be nice, daddy, I pwomise to behave if you be nice to wittle Wee!"
Nat wagged his head and gave out with a crooked smile. One eye brow rose up at a daffy angle as he did some more bam bam to her buttocks. This was such fun, he thought, I'm actually not bored!
Lee was surprised to hear the way she was carrying on. She found it was fun to pretend this way. Awfully silly, and she felt like a ninny. But it was nice to feel like a ninny, all week long she had to run around the lab with her pocket computer, calculating this and that, talking to the slide-rule boys by the water tanks, talking to the computer as she looked out the plate glass window of her office at the ripple tank and thought about waves and eddies. She even brought that shit to bed with her, Nat was right, she'd been a bad girl. The absurdity of her present activities made her dizzy, which was a feeling that research scientists were rarely allowed to experience, and never permitted to cultivate on the job. Oh, bad girl, bad girl, waaaaaah!
"You're being such a good little girl, Lee-Lee. Maybe daddy will be nice to you and stick some sugar candy in your puss-puss."
"Heehee! Nathan, you're drivelling, you dumb shit!"
"Quiet! You're blowing the mood! Bad girl! Bad! No candy cane for bad little Lee-Lee!"
"Oh, boo-hoo, boo-hoo-hoo-hahahaha!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t! Fuck yourself!"
"No! Lee-Lee want incest, daddy. Lee-Lee want it now!"
Nathan dropped the brush on the floor. He was laughing to hard, and his cock hurt from throbbing so much under her hips. He rolled her over on the bed and pounced on her buns.
"Nathan! That's the wrong hole!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t! Only good girls get it in their puss-puss!"
Nat's needle pricked into her cushions and threaded its way into her colon. Once he was properly anchored in her tubing, he started humping up and down with a scrub brush motion, scratching her bristles to and fro over the bedspread until her clit reared up a bit and got hard. Lee's bottom was a crazy quilt of stings, and the piles of Nat's rug rubbed against her flesh like brillo pads until it was polished into numbness. But the polishing her vaginal canal was getting from the engine in her overhead railroad left her feeling anything but numb. She was feeling pleasure in inordinately large doses, and the thin sheet of membrane separating her two tunnels was being slowly compressed into a tightly stretched flap of fetid cellophane. The sliding of sledge hammer against walls was generating an overgenerous degree of pressure on her clitoris, and Lee wasn't quite prepared to handle such undiluted draughts of unabashed delirium. There wasn't even room for arithmetic in her thrill-congested head. And when Nat switched gears and went into overdrive, there wasn't even room for that.
"Oh, Jee-zus! Oh, Nat! Hurry and come! Hurry, please!"
"I am hurrying, you've got such a tight ass, I can't believe what a tight little bundle of buns you've got!"
Nat roared around a bend in her bottom at breakneck speed and then switched into reverse and felt his transmission drop out into her floorboards. His cock fell out of her rump and hung limp, wet and brown between her thighs. Nat's head was still racing, and the blood rushing to his head was making his temples pound like kettle drum skins. He dipped his tongue into the long crease of Lee's spine and left it hanging at the edge of her crack. Then he flopped over on his back and grunted for a while with his eyes closed and was oblivious to every sensation but the dry rush of air through his throat. When his breathing normalized enough for him to pay attention to the information coming in through his other senses, he heard the ferocious gruntings and tumbling coming from the closet and started wondering what the hell DesSeychelles and his trippy bitch were up to. His sense of wonder wasn't intense enough to make him get out of bed to investigate, though. Nothing short of a drug bust or a nuclear explosion could make him move now.
Nat groped for his cock and marvelled at how sore it was. He'd had enough fueling for a while, he wanted to sleep. He'd hardly slept at all the night before, and the crash from the mescaline was beginning to take its toll on his durability. Lee wasn't in much better shape. She'd be able to relax a little better with the ropes off her limbs, but when Nat tried to reach over to the network of knots he'd tied earlier, his arms turned to rubber and flopped down to the mattress. Time to sleep. Lee was already sleeping. DesSeychelles and Lisa were already peaking. Take two aspirin in the morning and down them with a long, hot shower. Meanwhile, fuck it and good night.
The noises in the closet grew softer and stopped. Feet were shuffling in the hall, there was scraping at the door, hyena-like laughter and other dumb sounds. Dumb sounds from dumb shits tripping on mescaline. Big deal, I'm too tired to be amused by such tawdry antics. I want to be alone. The only thing I have in common with Greta Garbo. I want to be alone and asleep. Fuck you. Fuck everything. "Leave me alone!"
The door knob was turning. Dumb shits! Nat was pissed, but he couldn't move. Well, let them come in. DesSeychelles would look at his nude body and Lee's roped limbs and laugh. Maybe Lisa's tits would fall out of her blouse again. So what. Nat would make a point of being boring, and they'd leave. Please leave. Oh, shit, they're walking over to the bed. Leave me alone. Please.
"Zut alors! I never knew you two were so kinky, Nathan! Oh, wow!"
DesSeychelles was doing a drunken rain dance around the room, bending over with laughter every few steps. Little Lisa was leaning against the door, rolling her eyes around confusedly. Maybe she'd throw up. Then maybe DesSeychelles would stand over the pile of vomit and stare with fascination at it for an hour or two. Maybe he'd just stand there staring over her upchuck going 'Oh, wow' until morning. He must have swallowed a lot of mescaline, he was cavorting like a spastic, mouthing nonsense worthy of a mental basket case. He should have stayed in physics, an inner life made up of equations made for greater mental control. Writers turned to jelly at the drop of a reefer. Especially writers who'd picked up their craft on the rebound from the hard rigor of mathematical speculation. What the hell did writers think about, any way? Words were so ambiguous, putting strings of them together couldn't have much more logic to it than a string of free passes in a crap game. Why would anyone want to play with anything so unpredictable as words? Especially when they could play with a nice bunch of numbers. DesSeychelles was obviously mentally disturbed. There was no other way to explain it. He'd given up the crystal clarity of mathematics for the verbal swamps of the mental basket case. The dumb shit!
"Leave me alone! I'm crashing."
"Nathan! Jee-zus, Nathan, I never knew you were such a sickie! Lisa, look what he did to Lee! Hee-hee! He tied her up and fucked her! Hee-hee! Oh, wow! I can't handle this ... this revelation of your depravity, Nathan! Ah-ha-ha-ha! Ah-ha-ha-haaaaaah!"
"Sayshie, where's the bathroom, I'm gonna throw up!"
What kind of a dumb name was DesSeychelles, anyway? Nobody could spell it, nobody could pronounce it, nobody could even make up a good nickname out of it. Shells, that's stupid. Sayshie, that stupider. Chopsoman called him Daisy when he wasn't calling him a dumb Frog. Day-say-SHELL: it sounded like the name for a feminine hygiene spray.
"Sayshie, Sayshie, I'm gonna heave!"
"See that, Nathan? Your perverted behavior's made her sick to her stomach! Sick, sick, sick!"
"Show her to the John or I'll fucking make you eat up her vomit, you dumb shit!"
"Hahahaaaaah! All right, you fucking pervert. But we'll be back!"
"Leave me alone!"
DesSeychelles stumbled through the doorway and dragged his sweet sixteen year old twat into the bathroom. She started to heave immediately, and went through one disgustingly loud spasm after another. Vomiting was contagious, and the sound of it made Nathan want to retch. He wished she'd stop soon, it made it difficult to fall asleep, hearing that sort of thing going on in the next room. Please, you dumb cunt, stop it, stop it! Nathan was getting a headache. If this didn't stop soon, he'd get acid insomnia. He'd pass into overtiredness and wouldn't be able to fall out till tomorrow. By that time, Lee would be awake and refreshed, and then they'd be a half day out of phase, and wouldn't get synchronized again for a week.
Nat slid into a semi-comatose state and thought he was asleep. But the voices he was hearing weren't in a dream, they were back in the room again. He tried to ignore them, that was impossible, they were too loud. He rolled over on his stomach. He didn't want to see them.
"Awwww, don't go away, Nathan! We want to amuse you!"
Nat mumbled something into his pillow. DesSeychelles couldn't make it out, and told him so. Nat grabbed the pillow and threw it at him.
"Leave me alone!"
As Nat turned to toss, his eves opened wide at the sight of lovely Lisa. Her tits weren't falling out of her blouse: her blouse was off. So was her skirt, and everything else. The clash of her brunette mop and her bright red bush was startling, and Nat couldn't take his eyes off her shiny twat.
""Leave me alone,' he says. Nathan always says the same thing, Lisa, you'll just have to get used to it. Nathan laughs like a Gattling gun, and his words sound like they came off an assembly line. If only you could think of something interesting to say once in a while, Nathan, then you wouldn't be so bored. That's why we came back in your room, Nathan. We feel sorry for you, and we don't want you to be bored. That's why we're here, Nathan: to amuse you! Lisa here is fascinated by the nasty things you do to your wife, and now that she's finished throwing up, she wants to be tied up, just like Lee! That should amuse you, shouldn't it, Nathan?"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
"You see, Lisa? There mere thought of it makes him giggle with glee. Come, my dear, there seems to be a shortage of ropes, and Lee must be tired of the ones she's been wearing. Nathan, on the other hand, seems too tired to help her into a new outfit, so it looks like this is up to us."
DesSeychelles wobbled across the floor with Lisa and fumbled with the knots around Lee's feet. Lisa got her hands free and then tried to help him with the ankles bonds, but four hands on so many small knots only made things more confused. After about five minutes of stoned groping, the knots seemed to come apart by accident, and then DesSeychelles gathered them up and pulled the covers over Lee. She was snoring at first, but as the covers were pulled out from under and then pulled over her, she awoke slowly and yawned. "Nay-thaaaaan, what time is it?"
"Time for fun and games, h-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Whaaaaat?"
"Quiet! DesSeychelles and Lisa are going to perform for us!"
"Oooof! She's naked, Nathan! Oh, dear!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
DesSeychelles was stripped to the waist, and he had a leash around Lisa's neck and was flicking the rope like a lion tamer's whip in the air. Lisa was crawling around on all fours across the rug with a wasted look on her face. Nat wondered if she had any idea what she was doing. He wondered if she ever did. She didn't seem to have much upstairs, but the rest of her house was in unbearably splendid order. Nat's eyes were like saucers as he gaped at the wondrous plenitude of Lisa's swaying breasts.
"Heel, Lisa!" y
"Ruff! Ruff!"
"Ah! Very good, Lisa! A doggie favor for your troubles!"
DesSeychelles broke off a half a tab of mescaline and held it up in the air. Lisa got up on her knees with her wrists hanging limply and barked. She tried to grab the tab with her teeth, but DesSeychelles' hand kept eluding her. He raised it higher, higher, until she was up on her haunches. Then he dropped it into the air and she gobbled it down.
DesSeychelles patted Lisa on the head and tugged the leash. "Now for the most difficult trick," he said. "Are you ready to perform, Lisa?"
"Bowwow! Grrrrrruff!"
"Ah, good! All right, girl! Roll over!"
Lisa tumbled on the rug and crunched her tits into the carpeting and rolled. She turned over four times, twice to her right, and then twice back again, leaving her knees slightly ajar throughout the entirety of the process-but not so slightly as to deny Nathan an unbearably revealing view of her lovely pussy. When she got back in all fours position, her tits jiggled for half a minute or so. Nathan found it difficult to decide which marvel to concentrate his attention on more: those perfect post-pubescent breasts, or the ungainly red rug between her tight, tapered thighs.
"Is that it? More, DesSeychelles, more! I want more tricks, more, you ass hole! I want to be amused!"
DesSeychelles put a finger to the side of his nose and raised his left eye brow. He was smirking, and his eyes were completely bloodshot, making the rapid dilations of his pupils all the more noticeable. He was restraining a powerful impulse to giggle, and when Lisa scampered across the floor and bit his pants leg, he came dangerously close to losing control of himself.
"Lisa, my dear, you must stop that, I am not the mailman! No more doggie biscuits if you keep that up! Our audience is growing impatient, they are desirous of entertainment. Nathan, Lee, I must apologize to you. I lied when I said you had seen the most difficult trick. I think that is why my pet is pulling my leg, so to speak. She wishes to show off, and I suppose I must give in. Back, Lisa, back! Control yourself, my pet! You must prepare yourself for the final trick! Are you ready?"
"Ruff! Ruff!"
DesSeychelles spread his legs and pushed out his pelvis. His fingers fumbled with his fly, and after a few seconds of struggling, he finally managed to extricate his cock from the folds of his shorts.
"Now, my pet! Fetch the stick!"
DesSeychelles pulled at the leash and Lisa scrambled on palms and knees across the floor and dug her paws into the insides of his thighs. Her mouth fell onto his cock and started to suck it. She growled like an angry mongrel the whole time, and Lee perked up at the sight of DesSeychelles' thick, lengthy phallus sliding in and out of the little girl's mouth. DesSeychelles had a mindless grin on his face, and his lids were drooping toward closure.
"Oh, my poodle, you fetch so fetchingly! I, I, I...."
DesSeychelles' knees gave and he crumpled onto the floor. Lisa clambered on top of him and got her hands around his root. DesSeychelles tugged spasmodically at her leash, but there was too much slack, and no hope of a response. DesSeychelles' frame stiffened, his hips rose up and his back arched, and then he grunted and released his sauce into her mouth. Then his back flattened against the rug, and he sighed contentedly.
"Such a good dog," he gasped, "you must be rewarded handsomely for your splendid performance. Have another bit of biscuit, my pet!"
He tossed the rest of the mescaline tab into the air, and Lisa dropped her jaw wide and snagged it with a flick of her scum-covered tongue. Then she gobbled it down and barked, crawling all over the limp DesSeychelles and sniffing.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t! Bad doggie, she attacks her master! H-t-t-t-t-t! Oh, punish her, DesSeychelles! Oh, punish her!"
While Nat clapped his hands and ogled, Lee was letting her eyes linger on DesSeychelles' cock. She had always suspected he had a huge one, she always felt that had to be at least a part of the reason for his great success with the ladies. Now she saw that her suspicions had been well-founded. There was no point being embarrassed about it, she realized, the two of them were tripped out far beyond the boundaries of good taste and tact, and were no doubt too rapt in their own exhibitionist indulgences to pay much heed to her voyeuristic intrusion on their games. If anything, they seemed desirous of cultivating it!
"Did you hear that, Lisa? Nathan says you've been bad. You shouldn't attack your master like this, it will give your kennel a bad name. Get off of me now, so that I may properly punish you."
Lisa climbed off him and poised on her haunches with her paws out at the sides of her tits. DesSeychelles stood up and plopped his cock into its nest and fondled the ropes.
"Lisa is so good with her tricks, Nathan, because she spends so many hours each day doing yoga. Only the finest training schools include yoga in their curricula, but Lisa is a very special puppy, and only the best of educations is good enough for such a willing and able pupil! For her first punishment, Lisa will raise her hind legs over her neck and suffer having her ankles bound atop her shoulder blades while her arms are made to protrude through her knees and suffer, strapping to her knee caps at the wrists. Her thumbs and forefingers will form little circles, and then she will take a big, big breath that will push her lovely tits out over her hands, and then she'll exhale slowly while chanting the word 'Om'."
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nat and Lee were in hysterics. The absurdity of the scene was stimulating the last traces of mescaline and marijuana still lingering in their frontal lobes and rendering them senselessly silly. As DesSeychelles followed the letter of the instructions he had announced, Nat stopped laughing and drooled. During the binding of the ankles behind her neck, Lisa's ruddy twat was left fully exposed and distended. Her lips were ruffled like the frills of an oyster shell, and the pink of her tubing peeked through her slit and tantalized. Nathan was gulping down great quantities of saliva as he gaped at her snatch. Lee noticed that there was a lump rising up in the bedspread between her husband's legs.
"Nathan! You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
Lee grabbed up the folds of cloth coating his erection and started squeezing them. A few quick applications of pressure and she had located his bulb. Then she curled her fingers about the place where his rim was hidden and began to jerk him off.
"I just want to make sure you don't escape from the bed and do something naughty, my dear!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
DesSeychelles had taken off his pants and was sitting directly in front of his sixteen year old on the rug. Lisa's eyes were closed, and she was chanting "Om" in a deep, sultry voice. DesSeychelles shoved his cock into her widely stretched slit during an inhalation, and Lisa held her breath for longer than usual as his cock wormed its way into the anteroom of her womb. DesSeychelles lifted her buttocks up onto his thighs and pressed the small of her back toward his groin. Then he covered her mouth in the middle of a chant and shoved his tongue in. Lisa was now completely gone, she had meditated her mind into a blank, and there was nothing left inside it to interfere with the steady pulse of pleasure bursts that were hurtling along her nerves into her brain.
"Oooh! He has such a big cock, Nat!"
"I'd rather look at her twat. Not to mention her jugs!"
"Why don't you look at mine?"
"Okay!"
Nat reached under the coverlets and plucked at her nipples. He was about to come, so he wrestled himself free from Lee's hands and slipped his overheated member into her box. He let it rest there for a while until it had calmed down, then he began to stroke. While Nat rode across her body, Lee couldn't take her eyes off of DesSeychelles' cock. DesSeychelles and Lisa were starting to moan and rock together frantically on the floor, and Lee started panting and scratching Nat's back. Lisa looked so uncomfortable, she was trussed up so tightly, and in such an awkward position. But she seemed to be enjoying herself. More than enjoying! The pretty young thing was seething with lust, and DesSeychelles was bringing her to boiling on a very low flame. He slid in and out of her with excruciating slowness, dragging out his release and intensifying hers. The stifling completeness of such a total embrace must have enhanced the sense of captivity and helplessness that the ropes gave to her, and Lee began to think about the wav Nat had bound her before, and how she had surprised herself by liking it so much. And now she was getting incredibly hot getting fucked in front of two fucking friends. She had never thought she'd ever want to get into such scenes, but now that she found herself in the midst of one, she discovered that it turned her on.
CHAPTER FIVE
Mitchell and Carol awoke very late on the morning after Nat's party. Carol was the first one to wake, and the commotion she made as she tried to stretch her tightly wired limbs to yawn brought Mitchell to. Carol was shaking the whole bed, and Mitchell didn't like that. He'd wanted to sleep some more, and now Carol had spoiled it for him.
"Stop making so much noise, I'm tired!"
"Well, cut me down, Mitchell, so I can get out of bed."
"I thought you liked the wires, Carol."
"Mitchell! Not now! I don't want to play games!"
"You're playing games. Last night you said how much you liked it, and now you say you don't like it. That's inconsistent, Carol. I'll prove it to you, I'll play back the tape."
Mitchell rewound the tape to the point where the "interview" began. Then he pushed the PLAY button, and Carol's words came out of the speakers.
"See? You liked it. I'm going to do you a favor and leave you tied up till tomorrow. You'll love it, Carol. I'll put some more cocaine on your nipples, you liked that, too. I'm too tired to fuck you, though, so I'll just watch you twitch." .
"You goddam ass hole! I have to go to the bathroom!"
"Go in the bed. I'll get the movie camera and take pictures. I haven't taken pictures of you in days, it should be interesting!"
"Mitchell! I don't want to be in any fucking pictures! I want to go to the fucking John!"
"You wanted to be in my movies two days ago. You begged me to take pictures of you getting fucked by the German Shepherd. So I took them. Now I want to take them, and you're being inconsistent."
"Mitchell, I don't always want to do the same things, sometimes I want to do one thing, and some times I want to do something else. That's human nature, you shit head!"
"That's inconsistent, Carol."
Carol fought back the urge to threaten him with castration. That would only get him riled up again. Mitchell could be playful, and Mitchell could be difficult. Those two behaviors seemed to exhaust his emotional repertoire, and both of those behaviors could be embraced beneath the rubric of a more general one: Mitchell could be, and usually was, childish. He was being peevishly childish now, and it looked like his word for the day was going to be "inconsistency". Mitchell often woke up with a mood colored by the arbitrary events and reactions of the first few minutes of consciousness. Once a mood was established, it was too much emotional work for him to change it to fit the requirements of the people and situations around him. He would stay in it for most of the day, until he got stoned, and then his brain would get more plastic, and some more accidents would happen, and a new mood would perhaps get manufactured. Getting high and waking up were the only moments in which anything approaching emotional subtlety was possible for Mitchell. And that was only because those were the very moments of emotional confusion, and hence suggestibility.
Carol knew the strength of his whims, and also knew what had to be done to alter them. If she got Mitchell to light up a joint, she'd be able to make him act more rationally. It wouldn't take much coaxing to get him to ignite some reefer, but she didn't want to make a big production out of it. She didn't want to get him paranoid. His emotional patterns were so simple that even he had some idea how they worked, and he probably suspected that she had some idea of their mechanisms. As long as she didn't let on that she was manipulating him, Mitchell would let himself be manipulated. He wasn't averse to being manipulated by her, it saved him a lot of mental effort and decision time. He was only averse to being manipulated in a blatant manner. That wounded his pride and made him defensive, and then he got horribly stubborn. He was being stubborn already, and Carol didn't want to make it worse. She didn't want to be strapped into the bed for the rest of the week. All she wanted to do was go to the bathroom!
"All right, Mitchell, take all the fucking pictures you want. But if I'm going to have to shit in the bed, at least let me get stoned so I can get into it."
Mitchell gave her a crooked, eye-glinting smile. It was the sort of smile that Carol could never make any sense out of: the debauched lizard smile. Mitchell usually flashed it when he was feeling suspicious, but he also grinned like that when he was interrupted in the middle of a fantasy and didn't want to let on that he didn't know what the people around him had just been talking about. In general, it seemed to be indicative of a state of confusion, any sort of confusion. It seemed to mean Mitchell didn't have any idea what was going on, and was trying to pretend that he did. Mitchell was at his most vulnerable then, and his most dangerous. Carol would have to be careful.
Mitchell rolled a fat joint and lit it up. He stuck it into Carol's mouth and leered: the debauched lizard leer that went with the smile. Carol took a deep drag and let the reefer dangle from her lips. But Mitchell didn't take it.
"What's the matter, don't you want any?"
"No, I want to get stoned after I take the pictures."
"Oh, Mitchell, don't be so difficult! I don't want to be stoned by myself!"
"Well, I want you to be. I haven't been straight for days. Being straight makes me high, but I can only take it in small doses. I don't want to get addicted."
If Mitchell didn't get stoned, there'd be no way Carol would be able to coax him into setting her loose. Carol felt he was doing this on purpose, that it was just another way for him to be difficult. She had to find a way to make him take a few tokes, or she'd have to shit on the bed after all!
Mitchell didn't waste much mental energy on internal complexities. Carol figured a little reverse psychology, the sort that worked so well on white rats in laboratory cages, would probably do the trick.
"Okay, I'll keep all the dope for myself. Then I can float off into outer space and leave you earthbound. It'll be fun to see how ridiculous you look with your camera, Mitchell. Stay straight so I can laugh at you."
"Just a minute ago you were saying how you couldn't stand being stoned alone. Now you're saying nothing could be better. You're being inconsistent!"
Carol realized her mistake. She'd been inconsistent. That was Mitchell's overriding perceptual scanner for the day: everything would be adjudged by its consistency, and things found inconsistent would be dismissed out of hand. Her reverse psychology had ricocheted off the thick wall of stubbornness that was Mitchell's mental set for the morning. Carol was going to have to shit on the bed sheets after all.
Mitchell got a reel of film loaded into his movie camera and stood at the foot of the bed. Carol wanted to get it over with. Maybe if she humored him, he'd be more pleasant. She lifted up her bottom and got ready to shit.
"Wiggle your ass a little less, it's hard to focus with it moving like that."
Carol complied. She held her rump up high and started to force down on the muscles in her intestinal tract.
"Hee-hee! Grunt, Carol! I want bathroom realism!" Carol didn't find it difficult to grunt. The drugs of the previous day had somehow conspired to make her feel constipated. Then she remembered that she'd been constipated the night before, and Mitchell's refusal to ass fuck her because of that had gotten her into the argument with him that had led to her being tied up like this in the first place. Suddenly she realized what this was all about: Mitchell was just being consistent! He probably thought he was going to do her a favor by making her shit in a way that would turn him on-that is, in a way he could record with one of his gadgets, like the camera, for instance, and then, once her bowels were empty, he'd give her the great reward of the ass fuck she'd wanted the night before. Carol had only been living with him for a week, but he was already beginning to make some sense to her: frightening sense! Someone that predictable was hard to control!
"Mitchell! I can't shit!"
"I thought you had to go to the John! You're doing this on purpose, just to waste my film!"
He was going to get angry. That was no good! She'd have to defecate, and quickly, or he'd do something dreadful and crazy. She could take a gamble and hope that if she couldn't crap, he'd get bored and untie her. But that could be risky, he was being consistent today, so he'd probably keep shooting film, and getting more and more angry as he wasted more and more of it. There was only one way out of this. It would make a good film, too, and Mitchell would be pleased and grant her a favor, just the way psychologists gave their rats a piece of cheese when they made it through a maze.
"Mitchell, if you wanna see me shit, you're gonna have to give me a goddam enema!"
"Hee-hee! Enema movies! Hee-hee-hee!"
Mitchell was tickled by the idea. He took an enema bone and bag out of Carol's suitcase and removed the massive plastic phallus at its end and went searching for a bottle and a vial. He uncorked some wine and decanted it into a ewer, then he poured in a few grams of cocaine and shook up the mixture until it had dissolved. Then he poured the contents of the ewer into the enema bag and replaced the phallic bone.
"Say cheese! Hee-hee-hee!"
"Mitchell, you're fucking crazy!"
"Sorta like cancer! Spread your cheeks, Carol!"
Mitchell stuck the end of the bone into her ass hole and shoved it up to the hem of the bag. Then he moved the lens of the camera down toward her cheeks and filmed himself fiddling with the bone. He shook it around inside of her bottom, and when she started to grunt, he moved the lens toward her face to catch her expression.
"Smile! You're on Candid Enema! Hee-hee!"
Mitchell squashed the bag and sent a jet of coke-soaked wine into her colon. Carol squeezed her sphincter muscle around the bone and tried hard to hold it in. The sensations were numbing, and delicious. The wine burned, the coke was cool and soothing. The opposed sensations scrambled her nerves, already struggling frantically to transmit all the strains and stresses that the heavy pressure of the surging swamp of wine was generating in her shit box.
"Put something under my ass, Mitchell! I don't want to wallow in shit!"
"Oh, Carol, I'll just let you change the sheets."
"There aren't any other sheets, you haven't done a laundry since the week before I moved in!"
"Interesting! What should I put under your ass, Carol?"
"A bath towel! A table cloth! Anything!!"
"Anything? That's pretty general, Carol. Be specific!"
"It would be inconsistent for me to be specific, Mitchell!"
Carol realized that was the perfect thing for her to say. She had used the magic word. Now Mitchell would have to listen to her. Thank God! Mitchell backed out of the room with his camera still focused on her rump and pulled on the table cloth. A mess of dirty plates and silverware tumbled to the floor. The plates broke but the silverware didn't, which Mitchell would have thought interesting if he weren't so busy with his camera.
"Hold it in, Carol, we have to sleep on that sheet, you know!"
"Real observant, shit head! Hurry up with that table cloth!"
"Not till I shoot some more wine up your ass. I want the movie to have suspense!"
"Mitchell! I don't want to wallow in shit!"
"Naturally! That's where the suspense comes in! Hee-hee!"
Mitchell loaded up the bag with more coke-treated wine and shot another blast up her crack. Carol screamed, she didn't think she could hold it in, but she envisioned a few hours of wallowing in her shit with Mitchell coming in every fifteen minutes to take a couple seconds of film so he could make a slow-motion study of shit-wallowing, and determined to hold in her turds at all cost.
"Oh, you're so good, Carol! You took two!"
"Well, I can't take three! Hurry up with that table cloth!"
"Wait a minute, Carol, you haven't described what it feels like yet!"
"I can describe it just fine with a table cloth under my ass!"
"But that would ruin the suspense!"
"Mitchell!!"
"If you describe it quickly, I'll have time to get the table cloth under you, and if you don't describe it quickly, you'll shit all over my bed and then I'll break your leg, goddammit!"
Carol realized the bind she was in. If she wasted time arguing with him, not only would she fail to win her point, but she would still have to "describe," and do it with even less time left to her before her bowels gave in to the terrific pressure and sprayed the sheets with shit. She started thinking fast. She would have to give a quick series of impressions or she'd never get the table cloth laid out beneath her bottom!
"All right, all right! There's a fucking lot of pressure in my ass, Mitchell, and if I can't fight it off, I swear I'm gonna aim for your fucking face!"
"Don't be so subjective. This is a documentary, not a porno movie!"
"Ass hole! The cocaine is drenching my organ sac with an incredible, soothing sort of itchiness, the more I squeeze my muscles the more intense the raw sensations in my rectum get. But the wine, the alcohol in the wine, burns, Mitchell. I can't take much more of it, who the fuck wants a drunken ass hole? Shit, I can't take it, my muscles are starting to contract and buckle like labor pains or something, put that goddam table cloth under my ass, Mitchell!"
Carol's whole body was quaking from the strain, and Mitchell had gotten what he wanted, so he spread out the cloth under her buttocks and draped it over the backboard at her feet, just in case. He moved the camera around above her belly, then panned across her crotch and thighs as her shudders grew more severe. Carol was weakening, and Mitchell wanted to get the crucial moment recorded in intimate detail.
"Oh, shit!"
"Hee-hee! Exactly!"
As Mitchell spoke, Carol's rump rose up and released an onslaught of lumpy liquid that spattered against the table cloth and steamed. Mitchell's camera kept clicking as a second small geyser shot out of her ass hole and splashed against the lens and washed across Mitchell's finger-tips.
"Hee-hee! Sorta like cancer! Hee-hee!"
Mitchell liked the finish of his film, and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. When he came back, Carol was straining to keep her ass away from the fetid pool on the table cloth. Mitchell wiped off the lens of the camera and filmed a few minutes of her writhing.
"After suspense, anti-climax! Sorta like Hitchcock! Hee-hee!"
"All right, all right! I've had enough! Cut me down!"
"Oh, Carol, this is the best part of the movie!"
"I said I didn't wallow in shit, and you agreed. Be consistent!"
Ah! The magic word! Mitchell winced, and put down his camera. He was grumbling, but he was determined to prove how consistent he could be, and he undid the wires and let Carol climb out of the bed. Then Mitchell folded the corners of the table cloth over the puddle and took the bundle to the incinerator in the hall and dropped it into the chute.
Carol was in the bathroom washing up, and Mitchell sat in the living room and lit up a joint. He'd had fun with the camera, and now he decided to reward himself for being so clever with a few tokes of reefer. When Carol emerged from the bathroom, Mitchell was already totally blasted, which is to say he was himself again.
"We ought to bring some dope over to Nat to make up for the plants we ruined on his patio. He's your friend, Mitchell, and it would be inconsistent to drink all his booze and eat all his food and then not make up for it."
"What?"
The word "inconsistent" no longer had a magical effect. Mitchell was stoned now, and he had probably stumbled upon a new word by now. Carol wondered what it would be. It turned out to be one of the words she'd just said-one of the words she'd said before she pronounced the one that had been so magical all morning.
"You're pretty smart, Carol. Nat's my friend. You should be nice to friends. You're my friend, too. I'm going to give you a couple of ounces of dope, because you're my friend. And I'm going to give Nat and Lee a pound, because they're my friends, and you shouldn't ruin the gardens of your friends. Let's go see our friends, Carol."
Carol was greatly relieved. Mitchell would be fun today. "Friend" was a much better word to get hung up on than "inconsistent"! She went into the bedroom to get dressed, and started thinking about all the things she could get out of Mitchell today by convincing Mitchell they were tokens of friendship.
She had just finished snapping her bra on and was fishing in her suitcase for, some panties that were clean enough to wear in polite company when she thought of the first thing she wanted to get out of Mitchell that day.
"Hey Mitchell, remember what I was asking you for last night, and what you said would make it cool?"
"You wanted something?"
"Yeah. I wanted you to fuck my ass. Clean as a whistle now, you goddam horse cock, you didn't want to do it 'cause it would've been messy, what with my being constipated last night, but now it's clean, Mitchell, come on to bed and fuck my ass, Mitchell!"
"Carol, I just gave you a fantastic cocaine enema, I preserved the moment for posterity, you can watch the movie over and over again for the rest of your life, you can even show it your grandchildren when they come over for Christmas dinner, what do you want from me, the cure for cancer or something?"
"Mitchell! You're the one who wants movies, and I'm the one who wants the realities. I want my ass fucked, I gave you what you wanted, now why don't you give me what I want? Fair is fair, Mitchell, tit for tat and all that, and what are friends for, anyway?"
"Friends? Nat and Lee are my friends, they're your friends too, now, because you're my friend and I'm their friend, and what's more important, getting the pound of dope to Nat so he doesn't think I'm a bad friend because we, not just me but we, wrecked his pot plants at the party last night after you, not me, pulled my cock out on the patio and threw me down between the geraniums, what's more important, Carol, preventing a breach between me and you and two of my oldest, best friends, or fucking you up the ass as an afterthought to a cocaine enema, your ass hole just got one treat, but we only gave Nat one joint the whole night last night, and that's hardly reciprocity, Carol!"
"Reciprocity? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Carol gave her equivalent of Mitchell's debauched lizard smile. It was a sideswiping motion of the left side of the face that flicked her long blonde hair over her mouth which opened up to bare two gums full of leopard fangs once the hair had passed by. Carol was afraid of big words, she always felt Mitchell, or anybody else, for that matter, only used them to make her feel stupid, to put her in her place because she was a dummy who'd never gone past high school. But she could never figure out if maybe they figured that absolutely everybody knew those words, and then if she let on that she didn't, then she'd really be labelled as a dummy, and not just in her own imagination. Carol was as wary of intellectual complexities as Mitchell was of emotional ones, but instead of the confusion cover-up of the simpering smile that Mitchell resorted to, Carol resorted to gutter instincts and bared her fangs. Mitchell was very good at recognizing such mechanisms, he just was oblivious to the subtleties of behavior between people's flash points, but the flash points themselves were interesting, and he always noted and catalogued them in his brain. Unfortunately, flashpoints meant emotional complexity, and an alarm would go off in Mitchell's head that stirred up his adrenalin and spurted out a confusion of amorphous emotions that made him want to explode. Then he'd try to explain himself, but he didn't have very many words for immediate gut level feelings, and his tongue would get tied and he'd get frustrated and one thing would lead to another and sometimes he would break things.
"Reciprocity, Carol! Even fucking jungle people know about that, the witch doctor puts a woodpecker beak to your mouth and if it cures your toothache you give him a cow! Incantation, woodpecker, toothache, cow! Simple!"
"Stiff pecker, woodpecker, what the fuck are you talking about?"
Carol's head was swimming. She went into phase two of her confusion defenses: she spread her legs and made balls of her fists and tilted her spine backwards. Mitchell realized he wasn't getting through to her, and fireworks and bomb blasts starting going off in his head. He started sputtering, and his inability to catch any words as his emotions raced by like lightning bolts across the movie screen of his mind made him want to strangle Carol for making him feel like such a crazy person. Mitchell didn't like it when people made him feel mentally unstable. Whenever they said or did something that he took to mean showed they thought he was off his rocker, he'd all of a sudden blow his top and smash something at their feet or throw something sharp that would just miss their heads. For some reason, that never seemed to convince them they were wrong, however. That made Mitchell feel insecure a lot, and sometimes he'd even smash things when people weren't looking. "Carol! Reciprocity!"
Mitchell had reached the limit of his explanatory powers. If that last one word argument didn't convince her, he'd have to throw her on the bed and beat the shit out of her or something like that until she understood.
"Mitchell! Saying reciprocity is reciprocity doesn't explain a goddam fucking thing! What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Aaaaaaaaaagh!"
Mitchell's hands were at her throat, and she was down in an instant on the mattress. He slapped her face and wrung her neck and dug his knees into her belly and screamed. Carol thought he was going to kill her for sure and prepared to die once her strength gave out. Mitchell realized she'd given up and felt bad. He was hurting her, and then she wouldn't want to be fun anymore if he hurt her too bad. Mitchell figured he'd better be friendly real fast, so he pulled down his pants and lifted up the flaps of her blouse and shoved his cock up her ass. She liked getting fucked up the ass, he remembered, she'd said something about it last night he thought, he'd fuck her up the ass and then they'd be friends again.
Her ass felt very clean and smooth, and Mitchell knew the cocaine was probably still working in there and so if he stroked slow and easy she'd probably really get off on it. He started stroking slow and easy, and rubbing his thumbs into her clit and then rubbing her labia against the throbbing bud and kissing her tits with the edges of his teeth. Carol started to hump and thump, and then her throat started to make static-like gaspish little sounds, and then her neck filled up with air and she started to scream. She was liking this a lot, Carol was liking this a whole lot, Mitchell thought, he was really being a good friend now, Carol was writhing and contorting and carrying on like a bitch dog in her first heat, her arms were flailing his backside and she was starting to be friendly, too!
Mitchell was snorting and grimacing against her breasts. He squinted until all he could see were the ridged of her erect right nipple between the picket fences of his lashes and then gulped hard as he felt the gism slithering out of his cock. Carol was squashing his cock like a soft-boiled egg, her highly talented and much practiced rectal muscles were mauling his member between throbs, letting his rod pulse into bigness as her muscles relaxed, then pressure cooking it once it shriveled ever so slightly between spurts of blood and tension.
Carol had wanted this badly. She'd been running around from one scene to another for a few months, and Mitchell was the first steady dick she'd had in a while. Her ass had grown tight from all the tension she'd accumulated, and she needed to have it massaged out of her by Mitchell's massive cock, there was so therapy so thorough as a massive cock, Carol needed therapy, she didn't want a shrink, she didn't want to stretch out on a couch and talk about her childhood, she wanted to sprawl out on a bed and get the shit fucked out of her! Mitchell was doing a splendid job, Carol was wringing the tension out of her muscles like water from a mop, and as the tension broke down and was blown away by stroke after stroke, her clit filled the space with bursts of pleasure, raw, brainless, uncomplicated pleasure, her clit shivered and tickled the soft skin hidden under Mitchell's rug and grew deliriously attentive to his motions.
Carol slung her knees up over his sides and contracted her thighs hard and forced his belly down into hers and ground crotch into crotch to get off. The front of her box was sandwiched between Mitchell's cock and Mitchell's middle, her cunt, her slit, her flattened vaginal pouch, they were all being compressed, cajoled, compelled to play monkey in the middle between the rolling patches of friction of his cock and hips. Carol closed her eyes and wallowed in turbulence, let her head dissolve into the crashing white spray of the breakers she used to surf in to shore on in California, she felt her whole body move with a smooth coordinated motion that made use of all her muscles the way surfing on a ten foot breaker did, she fell into the ride and succumbed to the surges of orgasmic ecstasy that Mitchell's streamlined wedge of flesh was drowning her in.
"Aaaagh! Fuck me hard! Hard! Hard!"
Mitchell's cock hurtled into the deepest coils of her colon like a thunderbolt breaking clouds up into rain, and Carol came, and Mitchell came, and her juice gushed into his pubic hairs as his wad washed into the cocaine-tempered tissues of her anus. They grunted together and shivered in unison, then they gasped and pulled themselves towards each other tight and took turns biting each other's ears.
"Oh, Mitchell! Oh, shit! That was terrific! You did it just like I wanted it, just like I'd been pleading with you to do it! Why did you tease me like that, saying you wouldn't do it 'cause we had to go see Nat, why did you tease me, why didn't you just fuck me then and there without all the bullshit?"
CHAPTER SIX
Mitchell's driving was a lot better in the mornings. For one thing, there was a lot more light in the air then, and it made it harder for him to not see things. For another, there was hardly as much dope in his head before breakfast, and that made it more difficult for him to get distracted. That meant he paid more attention to his driving in the wee hours.
And that meant he got bored. Mitchell thought driving was a waste of mental energy, he didn't like to have to concentrate on flat surfaces and the attention shattering nuisances of traffic lights and road signs. He hated them almost as much as telephones. Mitchell objected to having to be his own butler, and he loathed having to answer other people's bells whenever they got the urge to want a piece of his ear. Mitchell pulled the phone out of the wall and threw it across the room at least twice a year. He also got lots of traffic tickets for going through lights. He also got tickets for other things. Not for speeding, though. One time he was tripping on the expressway and the trooper pulled him over and started writing out a ticket. "Do you know how fast you were going, mister?" Mitch was afraid to guess, but he didn't like people stopping him and asking him questions when he was tripping, so he got angry and his anger overcame his fear and he guessed. "Fifty?" he said, and the trooper scowled and said, "Try again". Mitch turned red and shrieked, "Sixty?" The trooper glared at him and said, "Uh-uh, buddy, try it again". "Eighty?" The trooper finished writing out the ticket and ripped it out of his book and stuck it through the window. "Ten miles an hour," he snarled, and drove away.
"Mitchell! Mitchell! There's a McDonald's!"
"Oh, wow! I just love Egg McMuffins! They make them so fast!"
"I want a hot apple pie and a fish fry, Mitchell!"
"Oh Carol, you're so smart!"
Calling someone smart was Mitchell's universal compliment. Things that demanded a great deal of mental work were the only things that he truly understood, anything that didn't' involve thinking just wasn't worth thinking about, as far as he was concerned. His head was filled with a number of things that weren't in the least bit intellectual, but intellect was the universal good, and everything good was obviously intelligent. Carol was a great fuck, and she put up with him, and that meant she was smart. It never occurred to him to call her a dummy because she hadn't gone to college or studied science, she just had a different specialty was all. She was a professional sexual researcher, and that was a very interesting field, and Mitchell marvelled at her extensive command of her discipline. She knew a whole lot about it and spent a great deal of time experimenting in her chosen area, and she was really good with a whole bunch of interesting gadgets. Carol was smart, and Mitchell liked that.
Mitchell fumbled in his pocket for a fistful of crumpled dollar bills and pressed them into Carol's paw. He told her what he wanted, and she ran in to get a take-out order of Egg McMuffins, plastic coffee, french and fish fries and apple pies and so on, and then she had the cardboard and plastic containers the things were individually packaged and collectively stuffed into a white paper bag which she ran to the car with. "Mmmmm! Carol, the pie's so hot!"
Mitchell was mesmerized by fast foods. What they lacked in taste and variety they made up for in efficiency, and that was more important. That was magic, the wonders of modern science! Mitchell especially liked the cans of beans you put coins into a machine for that would fall out through the transparent door at the bottom of the vending machine, and when you popped the tab on the can and pulled the top off, the beans were piping hot inside. Mitchell loved that, he could drive up and down the highway all day stopping at one junk food place after another, revelling in their countless ways of making the time-consuming chore of eating less and less of a burden on his attention span.
"Mitchell, why don't you eat the Egg McMuffins first?"
"No, Carol, I have to eat the pie while it's still hot. Otherwise, you might as well buy it in a store."
"I did buy it in a store."
"Not in a bakery store, Carol! Mmmmm!"
Carol was continually amused at Mitchell's simpleton tastes. He never took her out to expensive restaurants or the opera or any of that other complicated shit that she couldn't understand or appreciate. Mitchell couldn't understand or appreciate any of it, either, and he didn't see why he should bother trying to. DesSeychelles was into all that garbage, and he was a play write now. That seemed to prove a point of some sort, but Mitchell wasn't sure what it was. DesSeychelles was smart, and always had interesting ideas, but what could you prove with a play?
"Carol, look! All the numbers are turning over at once!"
Carol looked at the tachometer and saw that the ten thousand mile mark was in the process of being passed. Mitchell found a monument to drive around and round and round while the numbers all rolled together while he lit up a joint and watched them.
"This calls for a celebration! Look at all those numbers! Oh, wow!"
Mitchell had the sun glasses with the broken left arm on, and they bounced on the bridge of his nose as he spun the car around and around in erratic, slow circles. When the numbers were almost finished rolling, Mitchell reached into the glove compartment and took out a couple white packets of amyl nitrate and broke one under his nose while he handed one of them to Carol. He inhaled the fumes deeply and felt his blood race so fast that he passed out of consciousness for a few seconds. He remembered where he was again in time to steer the car away from a head-on collision with a maple tree. The giddiness lasted for a full ten seconds, and when he was merely stoned again, he looked down at the mile gauge and saw that they were into the second set of ten thousand now. A great moment, he thought.
"Carol, that was so interesting! Give me a hand-job when you're done with the French fries!"
"Okay, Mitchell, this'll get you hot!"
Carol pulled out his cock and bit off one end of her own hot apple pie. Then she slipped the gooey pouch of molten apple hole first over Mitchell's cock and crunched it. Not enough to break the crust, just enough to put some pressure on his member and allow for some play along the vertical axis. Carol began to drag the oozing pie up and down along his rod, smothering it in hot, sticky sauce. Mitchell had to pull into a parking space, he couldn't handle driving at all just now. He kept the motor running in case the space was an illegal one, and Carol worked the soft inner surface of gummed up dough into his skin. Mitchell was liking this a lot, it was a complete surprise, and he had been hoping she'd come up with one, although he hadn't the slightest idea what she'd do it with. Mitchell's cock had never felt hot before, not literally hot like this, only physiologically hot while he was fucking. Mitchell knew how the hotness of things was a lot different from the hotness of bodies, and now he was getting a sweltering mixture of both. Mitchell dropped his head back over the top edge of the front seat and opened his mouth in a wide grin. He was just about to come for the very first time in a piece of piping hot pie, and the sensation was ridiculously suggestive, as well as interesting in its own right.
"Oh, Carol, you're so smart!"
Mitchell gurgled and felt his cock splutter into the pie. Carol jiggled his root until all his juices were extracted, then she slid the fragmented pie shell and its marrow off his prick and into her mouth. When she had finished gobbling down the pie, he slipped the green-glop-covered organ into her mouth and licked it off. Mitchell was feeling so good, Carol was his friend, and he wanted her to know that.
"Carol! Let me suck some French fries from your cunt!"
"Oh, Mitchell! Don't forget the catsup!"
"Hee-hee! Little plastic packages of bloody catsup! I love McDonald's, it's sort of like cancer, hee-hee!"
Mitchell ripped off the tabs of the plastic bags of tomato paste and jammed the open ends of them into her twat. Then he rolled his fingers down their walls in nearly empty toothpaste tube squeezing fashion and sent the red stuff squirting up her hole. After he'd emptied out three packets, he tossed the drained flaps of foil out the window of the car and grabbed a fistful of slender, greasy French fries from the cardboard basket Carol was holding in her lap and shoved the ends of the stiff shoe-string-like vegetable shavings into the puddle of catsup he had made. Carol sucked them in, and Mitchell tamped them with his thumb and forefinger until only the last half inch or so was showing on them. Then he deposited his face between the furry inner sides of her thighs and started kneading her labia with his lips while his teeth had a tug of war with the vaginally gripped potato strings.
Carol's clit was clutched between two French fries that Mitchell's teeth were bending up and over the top of her slit. The ends of the fries were drenched in catsup, and Mitchell worked the slop around her bud and worked it like liniment into her crinkling tissues. Carol dropped her wraparound sunglasses to the tip of her nose and let her hair hang over the back of the seat while she moaned. Mitchell's lips were smeared with paste, and Carol started cutting the thick crimson liquid with streaky daubs of gray. Mitchell rolled the base of his nose into her mons veneris and munched. He loved French fries, he loved catsup, and he loved the tangy taste of Carol's cunt juice. He slurped up a few inches of fries and simultaneously inserted his tongue deep into her cavity to serve as a ramp for the sliding swatches of potato. He wanted to scoop up all the catsup, and the effort required resulted in a mouthful of bristles lodging in the spaces between his teeth as he chomped away at her pussy. The pubic hairs snapped off and stuck, and some of them were pulled out by the roots, leaving tiny translucent sacks of flesh at the root ends which were soon amply sprinkled with come and catsup. Carol had finally had all she needed, and started to whimper with a wonderful orgasm. Mitchell slurped up the last of her sludge and licked her twat clean of the red and the gray. His lips were pleasantly afire with salt as he lifted them up off her snatch and licked them clean.
"Such a gift I've given you, Carol! Such a good friend, hee-hee! Sorta like cancer!"
"Mitchell, you're preposterous! Kiss my fucking mouth!"
"Certainly, Carol!"
Mitchell placed his hands at the sides of her face and bussed her lustily. Their mouths traded tongues for a while, Mitchell getting some apple pie and Carol some catsup and hair in the bargain. Then Carol pushed at his chest and moved her mouth away to get some air.
"Wow, Mitchell! That was good!"
"The pie was still hot in your mouth! Mmmmmmmm! I love McDonald's!"
"Oh, Mitchell, where's my tooth brush?"
Carol was rummaging through her purse and found what she wanted beneath a pile of lamb skin prophylactics. Mitchell groped in the glove compartment and found another tooth brush and poured some cooled off coffee into his mouth and started massaging his gums with the bristles as he started up the motor and began to drive away from the monument.
Mitchell circled the statue a couple of times until he remembered where he'd been going and then headed out into the intersection. There was a tall man made of bronze standing next to the tree in the middle of the bit of greenery that comprised the patch of land containing the monument, and Mitchell stared at it as he drove around it and bugged his eyes.
"Carol! How'd you like to be a tree?"
"What the fuck am I supposed to say to that, Mitchell?"
"Oh, anything, Carol! Just play the game. How would you like to be a tree?"
"What would I do as a tree, Mitchell? That's stupid!"
"Oh, you could grow lots of roots and suck up water and minerals and make leaves! That would be interesting, Carol! You'd never have to think or do the laundry, and you could get fucked long distance by the wind in the spring time. The bees, Carol! Think about that, the bees would carry pollen and fuck your blossoms! Hee-hee!"
"Doesn't sound like a lotta fun, Mitchell."
"Sure it's fun! You'd never have to move, and the bees would fly in swarms to your branches and fuck your blossoms, remote control sex when the channel changed and it was spring, sorta like a Zenith television remote control channel changer, electric fucking, automatic sex, sorta like robots, hee-hee!"
"That's fucking crazy, Mitchell! I'd have to be tripping, I can't get into that without some acid.
"Carol, let me tie you to a tree!"
"Mitchell, shove it up your ass!"
"Aw, come on! It'd be interesting!"
"Fuck off, Mitchell!"
"Aw, come on! You liked the wires, what's so different about horizontal versus vertical, except on the controls of a television set?"
"Well, you better not fucking leave me there and make me shit, Mitchell!"
"Aw, come on! Trees don't shit! What are friends for?"
"Well, what are you going to do while I'm strapped to this tree trunk, take pictures, or be the rain and piss on me? What?"
"Oh, Carol, you're so suspicious! I'll be the bees, hee-hee-hee!"
"I thought we were going to Nat's, Mitchell!"
"After you're a tree, we'll drop in on him and pay him back for the plants. But why don't you be a tree first, that would be more interesting!"
"Yeah, well, I guess I could get into it if you're not too crazy. What do trees think about, Mitchell!"
"Moisture! It's so easy to be a tree, Carol, you'll really like it, I can tell! I've got some nice ropes and cables in the trunk. Would you like to be a Christmas tree, I've got some party lights in the trunk, too,-that I was going to give to Nat last night but forgot about."
"A Christmas tree! Wow! Are you gonna hang stockings on me, Mitchell?"
"Hee-hee! I'm gonna take them off you, Carol! Don't be ridiculous!"
Mitchell's beat up station wagon made its way clumsily along the highway that led to the mountain top where Mitchell had seen a really interesting tree once. Whenever he saw another car coming at him, he swayed the wagon to the side, assuming any other cars coming would be smart enough not to smack into him. When the cars were closely packed, Mitchell would tailgate much too closely for Carol's comfort, but when the traffic got sparse, he'd fall back a few yards and drop speed to stare at the license plates around and in front of him in search of interesting numbers. A lot of people honked at him, and when he got upset by the noise, he'd swish his Chevy's tail from side to side like he was out of control, and that scared them into thinking he was crazy, and then they stopped honking. Mitchell enjoyed fooling them like that. The other drivers gave him a lot of clearance, and he was able to go at his own pace, although sometimes when he made the car fishtail when somebody was trying to pass him, he'd almost smack his bumper into their side doors, and then they'd roll down their windows and yell at him. That would make him laugh, and he'd honk his horn at them and give them his debauched lizard leer and then they'd drive off and leave him alone.
Mitchell made it to the mountain exit with only a few scratches on his back fins and wrenched his gears as he switched into reverse by mistake as he started the climb. Carol was thrown against the dashboard, and Mitchell chortled and dropped the automatic shift into first. His wheels 'spun for a few seconds in the ditch he'd managed to lodge the car in, and then he pumped the accelerator and shot out into the middle of the road where he was almost totalled by an oncoming oil truck. Carol covered her face and screamed, and Mitchell swayed the ass of the wagon out of the way of the oil truck and started up the slope. He found the path he was looking for half way up the mountainside and made a sharp turn. He remembered he'd forgotten to switch on the blinker and reached for it when he was half way into the narrow road and nearly lost control of the wheel. Carol slumped back into the seat and grumbled. Mitchell adjusted the good arm of his sunglasses and grinned at her. Carol snarled back at him and he raised up his eye brows and giggled. He was having fun, cars were so stupid, and he loved to make them feel like jerks.
"Oh, Carol, you'll have so much moisture, there's a brook where we're going, and you'll get to be a weeping willow! Hee-hee!"
"This sounds wacky, Mitchell. How are you going to light up the party lights?"
"With electricity, of course! I'll hook a jumper to the car battery and leave the motor running. Isn't that exciting, you'll be part of a machine!"
"Mitchell, that's sickening!"
"And the wind, Carol, the wind will be the fumes from the tailpipe! Hee-hee! Sorta like cancer!"
"Yecch! I thought this was going to be fun!"
"Oh, Carol, you'll have lots of fun!"
Mitchell drove off the dirt path into some bushes and parked the car by the brink of the brook next to the weeping willow tree. He left the motor running like he said he would and started taking off Carol's clothes. Once she was naked, he took off everything but his sneakers and opened up the trunk to get at his gadgetry. There were lots of ropes and cables and power boxes and bits of circuitry and such, and also a long string of party lights of various slightly scratched colors that lined the wire on two sides in alternating series. Mitchell slung a rope through Carol's crotch and wrapped a few winds of it around her thighs and then wrapped the rest of it around the tree trunk and her middle and then made a big knot that rode just above her left hip. Then he wound a few coils of insulated wire around each wrist and joined the coils together at the back of the tree. Carol's feet were dangling over the bank of the brook, and Mitchell bound them together with twine, winding the twine in and out of the spaces between her toes and then over her ankles and behind the tree trunk.
"Does that feel like roots? They're so close to the moisture, hee-hee!"
"My neck hurts. Tie my neck down to the trunk, Mitchell, before I get a charley horse."
"I have some old fan belts in the back seat, I'll wire them together and make you a collar, Carol!"
"Okay, Mitchell, but don't take all day, and don't fucking strangle me, either!"
"Hee-hee! Who ever heard of strangling a tree? You have to slice off strips of their bark to asphyxiate them, Carol. That would be a lot of work, and you'd probably bleed all over the brook!"
"Mitchell! Just get on with it, you ass hole!"
Mitchell made the collar with the rubber strips of the old fan belts that he'd never thrown away for some reason, he found them under a pile of old Coke and Shaefer cans nestled in a mash of McDonald's and White Castle hamburger wrappers and threw them out on the grass and pebbles on the brook bank. He strapped Carol's neck to the trunk with the collar he made from them, and then he went back to the trunk and pulled out the party lights.
"Now for some leaves! Bright, colorful leaves, sorta like autumn!"
"I thought you said trees got fucked in the spring!"
"Hee-hee! No bees sucking your pollen for six months, what a horny tree you'll be! Such a fortunate willow tree you'll be, hee-hee! Getting it in autumn, oh wow!"
Mitchell giggled maniacally as he wrapped the long winding wires with the colorful bulbs about her tits and neck and shoulder blades, then draped a couple feet of them through her hair and let the remaining few feet droop through her cleavage, leaving a big green bulb bouncing against her pussy.
Mitchell stuck the male plug at the end of the party lights into a power box that he hooked up by jumper cable to the battery under the hood of the still running automobile. The lights turned on all at once, and Mitchell stood in the water and giggled at the interesting spectacle.
"Now what're you going to do, piss on me, Mitchell?"
"You must be cray-zee, Carol! What if the wires were frayed, water's a conductor, Carol, and piss is mostly water. We'd both be fried to cinders, hee-hee! Sorta like cancer, aha-aha-ha-haaa!"
"Don't say shit like that, you fuck head! What're you trying to do, make me feel scared?"
"Trees don't get scared, Carol, they just bend in the wind! How do you like the wind, Carol, isn't it real?"
"You need a new fucking muffler, Mitchell, the fumes stink!"
"Pretend it's a wide-spectrum insecticide, Carol. Sorta like DDT! Oh, wow, I hope it doesn't kill all the bees! Hee-hee!"
"Ugh! Mitchell! Can't you stop those fucking fumes, I'm gonna throw up!"
"No you're not, trees don't throw up, they just fall apart and rot and turn into fertilizer! Oh, I hear the bees coming, Carol, here come the bees!"
Mitchell dashed out of the water to the trunk of the car and found a long, thin battery-powered flashlight and a long telephone coil which he'd saved from one of the phones he'd ripped out of the wall and thrown into the sink after his parents called him up one day when he was in the middle of feeding his pet snakes. He flicked the switch on the flashlight a few times to make sure the batteries hadn't corroded, and then he swung the coil around in the air and walked over to the tree.
"Here come the bees, and boy, do they want some pollen!"
Mitchell swung the coil across Carol's belly and breast bone and danced around in front of the tree with the flashlight gripped in his teeth.
"Mitchell! Ow! Bees don't sting trees, you dip shit!"
"But these are crazy bees, Carol. Killer bees from Brazil who flew north for the winter!"
"But it's supposed to be autumn, my leaves have changed colors, remember?"
"Well, they wanted to get here early so they could get hotel reservations, hee-hee! Oh, Carol, these bees are so cray-zee!"
Mitch swung the telephone coil a few more times, and then fell into the brook and cackled. He was feeling so light-headed, he had to stop for a few minutes before he did something ridiculous. He lay in the brook for a few minutes laughing, and when he felt more in control of himself, he climbed up out of the water and picked up the flashlight he'd dropped in the weeds at Carol's feet.
"Oh, Carol, the bees want some pollen! Mmmmm! Yummy pollen, Carol, pollen to make lots of sticky honey with once they get back to their nest! They can't wait any more, they can't wait, Carol, they have to have some pollen!"
"Shit, Mitchell, what are you talking about?"
"Pollen!!' Mitchell flicked the flashlight on and off and stuck the bulb of it between Carol's thighs, banging it against the green party light that was dangling over her slit. He lifted up the green bulb and worked the front of the flashlight into her slit. Carol grunted and rolled her eyes. It hurt at first, but Mitchell was gentle, and didn't shove it up her cunt too fast for her to handle. He got it up to the switch and started working it up and down in her hole, letting the switch tickle her clit on the upstrokes until she started to come.
"What does it feel like, Carol?"
"It feels like I'm being fucked by a goddam flashlight!"
"What a surprise! I thought it would feel like a bee sucking your pollen!"
The shaft of the flashlight was too straight, and the top of it had too sharp an edge, for Carol to be able to work her cunt muscles on the thing very well at first. But she decided it was a challenge, and started concentrating on making the lower rings of muscle contract with a different rhythm and tension than the ones higher up. That was a new thrill for Carol, it gave her new sensations, she was used to using all her vaginal muscles in unison, and the alternations that seemed appropriate to the treatment of her cunt's present occupant gave her an opportunity to try out some new tricks.
She'd done it with Italian sausages and even riding crop handles before, but sausages were pretty malleable and might as well have been horse cocks, which she'd learned to handle one summer in Tijuana, and as for riding crops, they just weren't thick enough to require anything very original in the way of muscular exertion. She'd never tried anything so unyielding and fat as a flashlight before, and the absence of a tapering bulb at the tip was quite a novelty, and she found it interesting to work without one being there. The jiggling of the batteries inside the cylinder sent little Shockwaves of pleasure into her walls, and Carol liked the subtlety of that. It was a nice counterpoise to the crass lack of variation in the perfect smoothness and rigidity of the flashlight shaft, and she got off on it. The jiggling made her think of her tightly bound toes, all they could do was jiggle, too, and her torso was as rigid in its bonds as the flashlight shaft, not to mention the hard bark of the tree she was pinioned to.
"Oh wow! These bees are such technologists! They're already making honey, Carol, lots of sticky honey in your blossom, hee-hee!"
"Oh! Oh! Mitchell, this is crazy! Spin the fucking thing, I want to find out what that feels like!"
"Screw her blossom, bees! Hee-hee-hee!"
Mitch applied some torque to the base of the flashlight shaft and made the thing whir in her pussy. Carol gasped and poured out large quantites of sludge. The whirring took the cut off the edge of the front end of the thing, and Carol felt like a lump of clay on a potter's wheel as the thing spun inside her. Sensations were smoothly distributed throughout her walls by the regular motion of the uniform curvature of the shaft, and the long, thin vertical ridges of the cylinder provided a tantalizing resting place for split seconds at a time for pinched bits of cunt tissue as she worked up her contractions. "Mitchell! Mitchell! I like it!"
"Oh, Carol, you're so smart!"
"Mmmmmmm! Take that, take that out now, I want you to eat me!"
"Eat honey! Good bees! Hee-hee!"
Mitchell extracted the flashlight and stuck his tongue into the space left behind by it. He banged his nose against the green party bulb and wanted to rub it, but he didn't want all the honey to drip out, so he stuck his tongue in anyway and lapped up all the sludge coating her walls.
The lights were blinking in alternating patterns that blasted different colors through Mitchell's closed lids as he licked her. The lights cast multicolored shadows on Carol's body, and they made her feel hot, which helped her a little to come off. Mitchell ran his fingers over the bulbs laced over breasts and found her nipples nestled between a bunch of blue and red ones. He pinched and pulled them, and made Carol twitch her hips and shudder. Mitchell sucked her until she started whining, then she shot out a hot, fresh load and whelped. Carol was satiated, and Mitchell felt the tension ease up in her twat and pulled out his tongue.
"Gee, that was fun, Carol! Want me to take you down now?"
"In a minute, I just want to get into this for a few seconds, Mitchell, I wanna catch my breath!"
Carol panted for a while, and once her breathing got more regular, Mitchell took off her collar and the twine in her toes and then removed the party lights. Then he got her hands free and helped her sit down on the bank with her feet in the water. Once Carol felt herself again, she pushed Mitchell under the water and jumped on top of him. She grabbed his cock and shoved it into her mouth and began to blow him. She had to raise her head up out of the water every half minute or so to get air, and when she did so, Mitchell's cock would plop out of her mouth and bob in the water like a Halloween apple, then Carol would suck a barrel of air into her lungs and swallow it again, taking it with her beneath the water.
"Oh, Carol, you're so good! Hee-hee!"
"Trees like moisture, remember?"
"Carol, you're supposed to be the tree!"
"Well, I'm in the water, ass hole! Shut up and concentrate on your cock. I want you to blow off like a whale!"
"Whales! Hee-hee-hee!"
Mitchell sank into the water and dipped his head under the surface when he felt himself ready to come. He liked the sensation of gravity-less floating, it made the things going on in his prick all the more interesting. He opened his eyes and saw some small fishes, then he felt that it was about to happen and held his breath and saw the wavy, blurred image of his geyser through the water as he shot off into the air. Carol pulled his head up quickly so he could gasp without drowning himself, and then he fell over on top of her and bit her neck.
"Whale! I'm a whale! Hee-hee!"
"Oh, that was beautiful, Mitchell! What a fucking stream! I wish I had your movie camera here!"
"I wish I had my snorkel! Oh, wow!"
They got out of the water and dried themselves off with some towels that Mitchell had left in the back seat after he'd last done the laundry a couple of weeks before. Then they got dressed, and Mitchell returned all the gadgets and wires into the trunk and got behind the wheel.
"My sneakers are soaked, Carol!"
"Let's go to Nat's, Mitchell, before we forget!"
"Oh, shit! I almost forgot! Oh, shit! Nat would be pissed at me, what a friend I am!"
"Calm down, lover, I want to kiss your fucking face!"
Mitchell made the kind of sound usually reserved for the appreciation of too much food and offered his right cheek to Carol. She lolled her tongue over it, and Mitchell stuck his tongue into his cheek and pushed at hers through the thin flap of stretchable skin that separated them. Carol giggled and dug her teeth into the scruff of his neck the way a mother cat would clutch her kittens, and Mitchell slapped her for biting too hard and pushed her away. Carol was offended and punched him in the crotch, and when Mitchell bent, over and howled, she felt bad and took his face in her hands and kissed his eyes. Mitchell liked that and cooed, and then Carol flopped back in her seat and smiled at him while he backed out through the bushes to the pebbly road they'd come in on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DesSeychelles was just undoing the knots on the arm rest of the wicker chair when he heard the door bell. The din of the gong rattled in the space between his ears and diffused rich tapestries of color in his mescaline-polluted mind. He was lost in the beautiful hues that the sound was making for a few seconds, then the ringing stopped and he blinked his eyes and saw himself standing naked in the room again with the others.
"Nathan, I think it's the Avon Lady!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nathan was peaking now. After DesSeychelles had fed a tab to Lisa, Lee thought it would be nice to be tripping again, and Nathan thought that would be nice, too. That way, if any of the things they were thinking might happen happened, they could always chalk it up to being stoned and not have to feel guilty or embarrassed about it.
Lisa's face was radiating bliss as she rose lightly from the wicker chair and stood motionless on her toes with her eyes closed for half a minute. She was listening to the bells. When the bells stopped, she lost her balance and fell against DesSeychelles. He crouched on one knee arid held her up and froze in that position for a few seconds because it felt so good. He was relatively new to tripping, and it was his first trip since he'd decided to drop physics and become a playwright, and his life had changed a lot since then. Which is why he was so ridiculously blasted away. Lisa was also ridiculously blasted, but unlike DesSeychelles, she seemed to be in that frame of mind most of the time. She was relatively new to tripping, too, but then again, she was only sixteen, and she was new to lots of things that she just couldn't get enough of.
Nathan had a tumbler full of gin in his hand and was waving it exaggeratedly to and fro in front of his face like a self-conscious symphony conductor.
"Fuck the bell, DesSeychelles! Fuck the bell, DesSeychelles! Hey! That rhymes! H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t! But the way it's written, it doesn't look like it rhymes! H-t-t-t-t-t-t! Hey, DesSeychelles, fuck the bell! That rhymes, too! Hahahahahahahahahaha!"
Nathan rolled across the bed like a walrus wallowing in soft mud. He managed, by some magic, not to spill a drop of gin on the sheets. He no longer remembered the bell. He no longer remembered where he was. He would look up from the fascinating revelation of gin swilling in a parfait glass and recognize the room after a few confusing seconds, and then he would laugh and roll over some more and forget again, and then he'd repeat the process over and over.
"Nathan, Nathan, I'm too discombobulated to continue. You must do something now, you and your lovely wife, the show is dead, long live the show!"
Lee didn't hear him until he'd repeated himself four or five more times. She was still in a trance from the show that little Lisa and DesSeychelles had put on. All those ropes and contortions, and all those inches of massive cock! She had actually gotten to blow that cock while Nathan ate out Lisa while she was strapped into the chair. It was after that that everybody got incredibly giddy and confused, and now they were all so slap happy that not a one of them could remember the door bell any more. Nathan realized it was his turn now, and the thought of that awesome responsibility filled him with pride. He and Lee were going to put on a really dynamite show! They would be spectacular, and then DesSeychelles would be so impressed with their performance that he'd write it into his next play, and the drama critics would be so impressed with that scene in his play that it would run on Broadway to standing room only crowds for seven years, and Nathan and Lee would be put on the front cover of 'People' magazine, and then he would retire to a castle in Scotland and drink only the best unblended scotch and drive around in his Black Lotus and hunt falcons and think great mathematical thoughts and win a Nobel Prize in physics the same year that DesSeychelles won one in literature, and then he and DesSeychelles would retire and give performances of the immortal scene with their lady friends before all the stoned heads of Europe and Mexico.
But what would the great performance consist of? Nathan would not have to plan it out, he would improvise brilliantly, and DesSeychelles would be astounded and wish he could write in a year one scene like the one Nathan was about to boldy toss off in a few casual minutes of inspiration.
"Lee! It's our turn!"
Lee stood up and tried to walk over to her husband. She kept raising her feet and then dropping them into the same spaces where they'd just been, and she started thinking Nathan must be miles and miles away, and she kept raising and lowering her feet and wondering at how clearly she could see him while he was so far away, and knew it was the mescaline that was giving her such eagle vision.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t! Lee is stomping grapes! Lee's trying to make rug wine!"
DesSeychelles heard the crazy words and looked at Lee's crazy footfalls and fell down on the floor and rolled.
Lisa couldn't stand up by herself, and fell back into the wicker chair. But she couldn't find her balance, and she was afraid she was going to fall from the chair, and so she tried to tie herself up again to make sure she couldn't fall out, but then she couldn't remember how to make a knot, and all of a sudden she realized that knots were the profoundest mystery in the universe, and closed her eyes and dreamed about sailors and the parcel post system and Christmas packages and Houdini and lots of other things that she'd never realized were all so intimately related before.
Somebody. opened the door, and Nat looked around and counted up all the people in the room to see who was missing, and then he realized that he wasn't sure how big a number Lee plus Lisa plus DesSeychelles plus Nathan added up to, and laughed. He turned to the door and saw two people walk in, and marvelled at how rapidly whoever it was had managed to get dressed, and tried to decide if the one with DesSeychelles was Lee or Lisa, but his eyes were blinded by the glare coming from the late afternoon sunlight seeping in from the hall, and he couldn't tell.
Mitchell pinched Carol and started laughing. Carol was confused by the scene, she didn't know that Mitchell had any friends into such crazy shit, but she liked that sort of business herself, and she thought Mitchell wouldn't mind taking part in it either.
"Mitchell! You never told me your friends were into this stuff!"
"I can't imagine why!" he guffawed, and started to cackle. "Gee, Nathan, you must be awfully bored!"
Mitchell's debauched lizard leer was taking up his whole face, and as Carol looked at his expression she realized that this was as much of a surprise to Mitchell as it was to her. Carol's jaw dropped, and her distended lips curled into a gaping smile as she turned her face from one tripped out member of the party to another. Carol started taking off her clothes so she could join in on the festival. After all, what were friends for?
Mitchell was propping himself against the door so he wouldn't fall down from laughing so much. He was holding the garbage bag full of dope in his arms, and he couldn't join in with Carol until he found some way to get rid of it.
"Nathan! Sorry about the patio! Have some dope!"
He threw the plastic bag of reefer at Nathan, and it bounced off his stomach like a medicine ball and spilled all over the floor.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t! Mitchell!"
Mitchell didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do, either, but he decided it would be interesting to watch for a while, and then maybe join in once he had a better idea of what they were up to.
"Mitchell," Carol bellowed, "take off your fucking clothes!"
"No, I wanna watch!"
"Well, I wanna play!"
"No! You watch, too, or I'll break your leg!"
"Only if you take off your fucking clothes and fuck me!"
"I fucked you up the ass in the apartment, I fucked you with the flashlight when I had you tied up to the tree, I ate French fries out of your cunt in the car, what do you want, cancer?"
Nathan and DesSeychelles and Lee and even Lisa heard that and understood only one part of it: he'd tied her to a tree! They were into ropes and wires, too! What a nice thing! Another pair of performers!
"Ropes?" Nathan barked, "Ropes?"
"And wire and fan belts," Mitchell screeched. They were making him feel crazy. They were invading his privacy. Carol was pulling his clothes off. It was interesting!
"Give them some mescaline so they can play with us!" Lee cooed. Nathan liked that idea very much, and he gave them a few tabs and passed them the gin so they could wash them down with it.
Mitch and Carol figured why not, and downed the hits with the gin and laid back against the wall and watched. Nathan looked at the dope scattered on the rug and preened.
"The audience showers us with gold! Lee! Let's perform!"
Nathan was inflamed with the sense of Destiny. His mind was racing, and he got one immortal inspiration after another. He took a heavy wooden stood from a corner of the bedroom near his writing desk and propped it up in the center of the room beneath the overhanging lights. Then he grabbed a rope and cracked it in the air.
"Lee! You are the lion and I am the tamer! Leap up onto the stool!"
Lee's feet were still moving up and down in place and DesSeychelles had to give her rump a push to get her out of it. Then she sprinted for the chair and leaped into the air much too soon and fell onto the floor.
Nathan stared down at her and thought she'd just wrecked the performance. But then he remembered that was impossible, he was improvising, and Lee had just decided to turn it into a comedy. Nathan was overwhelmed with the power of his mind to realize all that, and ran to pick her up and stand her on the stool.
"A circus comedy! What an imagination I've got! H-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nathan got her propped up, and Lee froze into her position like a statue. Nathan pulled out her arms and moved her wrists together, and DesSeychelles handed him a coil of rope. Nathan twined the ropes around her wrists and then lifted her bound wrists over her head and brought them behind her back, rotating her hands in the bonds so her elbows wouldn't snap. He took the lead of the rope and wound it about her knees twice, and then took the rest of it and wound it round her ankles. Then he made a noose and put it around her neck, and slung the loose end over the lighting fixture. He took another chair and placed it on the bed so he could tie the rope securely to the fixture. When he was done, the chair fell out from under him, and Nathan decided to take advantage of the accident and do a somersault that carried him over the mattress and into the wicker chair where Lisa was trying not to fall, and the two of them tumbled out of the chair onto the floor. Nathan decided to improvise some more, especially as his body got a hard-on from being so close to the gorgeous girl, so he rammed his cock into her cunt and started fucking her at DesSeychelles' feet.
"Oh! Oh! Oh, wow! Is that you, Shells? Are you fucking me. Shell? Oh, wow!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t!"
Mitchell and Carol stared at Nat's ass bobbing up and down and wondered what had caused all this. Carol couldn't stand watching people fuck when she wasn't, and she started pulling on Mitchell's cock.
"Carol, stop it! I want to watch!"
"Mitchell! Fuck my cunt, immediately!"
Mitchell smashed her in the face with the back of his hand and she fell over on her side. But she wasn't about to be put off like that, she pulled on his cock until it nearly came off, and then Mitchell had to fight with her, but he couldn't fight Carol and watch Nathan and Lisa at the same time, and soon Carol got the best of him and crawled on top of his belly and shoved his cock up her cunt and fucked him.
"Carol! I wanted to watch!"
"So watch my tits, shit head!"
Lee heard the commotion that was directly in front of her and lowered her eyes to see what it was all about. She saw Mitch and Carol fucking on the rug, Carol on top, and was amazed. Sha'd never known that Carol had a cock before, and she wondered if it was as big as Mitchell's. She tried to crane her neck to have a better look, and felt the noose at her neck and forgot about the fucking.
"Natty! Don't let me fall off this stool! Don't let me fall off this stool!"
Nathan had just popped off in Lisa's twat when he heard Lee's pleading. Then he remembered the performance, and pulled out the sixteen year old and started stumbling across the floor, leaving a long thread of come in his wake as he approached Lee's perch.
Nat got an inspiration and started running around the closets of the house looking for the objects he needed. The others could hear him running from room to room slamming doors, and Nat got so caught up in his openings and closings that he forgot which room he was in and got lost. He ran out into the hall with an armful of clutter screaming, and then he heard the others and felt relieved and returned to the bedroom. He dropped all the stuff he'd collected by the base of the stool and started picking up one thing after another, trying to figure out what he should start with. The sight of Carol's tits bouncing up and down as she rode Mitchell gave him an idea.
Lee was moaning. The noose was choking her, or at least she was afraid it would if she wasn't careful, and the mescaline amplified her fear into a subjectively convincing sensation.
"Oh, Nat!" Lee purred, "that's so tight!"
"Well, just don't fall off the chair, and you won't break your neck! Don't breathe so heavily, honey, it's hard to get these chains around your nipples with your breasts bouncing up and down like that!"
Lee tried to follow his instructions, but the noose on her neck made it hard for her to inhale in the normal fashion. She looked down at the heavy irons on her legs, and hoped their weight would keep her feet from slipping off the chair and sending her hanging in space.
"Nat!" she cried hoarsely, "what're you doing with that broom!"
"Don't shiver so much," he growled, "or I won't be able to slide the handle in without making you bleed!"
"Waaaaah! Nathan, I don't want to bleed!"
Lee was starting to cry. She was reverting to her little girl mescaline space, and Nathan was trying to figure out how to fuck her with the broom handle and spank her at the same time without making her fall off the stool and get hanged. It wouldn't be any fun if she got hanged, not at all. It would be messy, and it would end the performance, and then DesSeychelles would never get to Broadway and they'd never be put on the cover of "People" magazine.
DesSeychelles couldn't cope with the sight of the broom sliding into Lee's pussy, and had to get his cock into Lisa as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Lisa was lying in a trance on the floor, reveling in the afterglow of the wild fuck that Nat had just given her. DesSeychelles was trying to get his cock into her, but she didn't want him to, she had liked that fuck that Nathan had given her, and she wanted to return the favor.
"Lisa, my sweet, please fuck for me! Can't you see I have an impossibly unmanageable erection?"
"No, Shells, not now, Nat just fucked me and so I have to give him a blow-job!" Lisa broke away from DesSeychelles and ran over to Nathan. She knelt down before him and put his cock in her mouth and started to suck. DesSeychelles was writhing on the floor in agony, suffering from the first case of blue balls he'd known since adolescence. Carol felt sorry for him, and squeezed her cunt savagely on Mitchell's dick until he was forced to pop off prematurely, and then she climbed off him and ran over to DesSeychelles and clambered on top of him and shoved his cock into Mitchell's scum and started to fuck him.
"That's a fucking shame what she did to you," she said consolingly. "I'll fuck you good, and then you'll feel a lot better. I hate to see such a nice cock getting so frustrated!"
"Oh, Carol! Such a nice surprise! How can I ever thank you?"
"Just give me a nice fuck! Hey, your cock is almost as big as Mitchell's! Unh! What a nice fucking cock you've got! Hey, Mitchell! DesSeychelles' cock is almost as big as yours!"
Mitchell didn't care. He was leaning back against the wall, and he was just watching, just the way he wanted it. He was watching the lovely plump jugs of the sixteen year old with the flaming red cunt give Nathan a blow-job while his wife tottered precariously on the stool with the noose around her neck. Mitchell had never seen anything so interesting before, and he hoped the mescaline would hit him soon so he could study it more carefully.
DesSeychelles cast yearning eyes at Lisa's lovely tits as she sucked off Nathan, and he was surprised to find that the sight of his tart giving his friend a blow-job turned him on, especially since he was being ground to powder by Mitchell's talented girl friend. He found himself lost in an abundance of primary and secondary sexual organs to gape at, and it went to his head. He had to shut his eyes to gain control of himself, but control was sought too late, he started to grunt and slaver and scratch at Carol's tits, and then he roared with uncharacteristic crudity and shot out a massive wad of scum into Carol's cunt.
DesSeychelles' screams filled Lee's ears, and she looked over in his direction and saw his still hard cock plop out of Carol's oozing cunt and swooned. It was the same lovely phallus she had seen before, that she'd been wanting to see since the previous night, and now, with all the others carrying on so lustily, she was awarded the sight of it once more! Lee watched it spurt small trickles of come as it flopped against his belly, and she felt her knees begin to quake. She started to lose her balance, and shrieked. Nathan was right behind her, and he heard her shrieking and reached out to keep her from falling. Her feet came off the chair, and he quickly shoved his head between her thighs and tried to give her a piggy-back ride while lovely Lisa swallowed his balls.
Mitchell was fascinated now. The scene was getting more and more interesting, and very complicated. Nathan's knees were starting to give now, the combined effects of Lee sitting on his shoulders, Lisa sucking on his dick, and mescaline frying his brains were beginning to take their toll on him. Lee was moaning, and she was crying for help. She didn't want to fall off Nathan, she didn't want Nathan to fall out of her legs, her legs were strangling him, he was gasping for air, and he was trying to scream as he felt himself getting ready to come. Carol, now that she was done with DesSeychelles, thought she ought to help out Lee, and tried to grab a hold of Nathan, but Nathan was in the middle of coming into Lisa's mouth, and his thighs turned to rubber and he started falling. Carol tried to hold him up, but she was too tired and he was too heavy, and Nat's head slipped out of Lee's thighs and he plummeted to the floor, squashing Lisa as he fell.
Carol gasped as Lee swung through the air and gurgled. Carol tried to reach over to her and stumbled over the bodies of Nat and Lisa and landed on top of the former. DesSeychelles was up and running, and he lunged through the air at Lee and missed and crumpled up in a heap in front of Mitchell. Mitchell was getting very confused, and he was afraid that the noose might break Lee's neck and tried to think of something he could do. Before he could compute a working solution, however, the lighting fixture came loose and ripped out of the ceiling.
"I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead!" Lee squeaked, and fell on top of DesSeychelles as the lighting fixture flopped on the pillows of the bed.
A piece of plaster from the ceiling flew out at Mitchell and broke into little pieces in Mitchell's face. The mescaline hit him all at once, and he started to laugh. Now that Lee was all right, the others focused their attention on him. Lisa hadn't noticed him before, and wondered who he was. She didn't remember him from the party the night before, he'd been with Carol on the patio when she'd been with DesSeychelles in the closet, and Lisa noticed he had a massive cock, and realized, too, that his was the only cock she hadn't sucked or fucked so far, and she thought she ought to do something about it.
"I'm Lisa, who are you?"
"Mitchell, hee-hee!"
"Would you mind if I gave you a blow-job?"
Mitchell's debauched lizard leer was spreading all over his face. He hadn't balled anyone but Carol for more than a week now, and he was beginning to feel monogamous. But Lisa had such perfect breasts, and the bright red of her pussy blinded him. She was crawling on all fours across the floor to him, her eyes fixed intently on his cock, and Mitchell thought it very interesting that his cock got more and more hard the more she looked at.
"Do I mind? Hee-hee! Can I watch?"
"Sure you can watch!"
Carol wanted to watch, too. She wasn't sure if she liked this, she thought Mitchell had one of the best cocks she'd ever encountered, and she didn't want to lose it to a sixteen year old bird brain like Lisa. Not that Mitchell could be lost or gained, he could only be put down or put up with, and he was too crazy to be much more than there. Just the same, Carol liked having him there, and she felt herself getting jealous. She figured there was nothing wrong with her sucking and fucking whatever cocks she pleased, they were all Mitchell's friends, and Mitchell, after all, had met her through friends of his that she'd been fucking casually for room and board, and he knew all about her on again-off again profession. Mitchell, on the other hand, was a big baby, and couldn't be trusted with lechery. It would go to his head, Carol feared, and she was very protective of her interests. Besides, she was afraid that Lisa had nicer breasts than hers, and that made her feel threatened.
Little Lisa was giving Mitch a sucking off that was just too good as far as Carol was concerned. She was starting to get angry. DesSeychelles had more than enough cock for this little girl, where did she get off moving in on her preserve? Carol didn't want to get Mitchell too riled up, he might do something unspeakable if she interrupted him in the middle of such pleasures; but she thought she had to do something to put Lisa in her place. Then she got an idea. She crawled up behind Lisa and slipped her hands between her buns and yanked.
"I can lick a gland better than that, bitch! You just keep sucking him off, and I'll show you soon enough!"
She spread the red folds of Lisa's beaver and stuck her tongue into the high school girl's slit and trilled her clit with expertly executed rapid-fire flicks of the tip of her flying wedge. Lisa started to gurgle while she sucked on Mitchell's mouthful, and the rattling of her throat gave a special thrill to the bulb of Mitchell's monstrosity.
"Carol! You're jealous! Hee-hee!"
Mitchell thought this was wonderful, Carol was showing a new side of herself, and it was even more ridiculous than the rest of her! Mitchell loved to watch people perform their machine functions, he enjoyed interpreting human behavior as the activity of so many pre-programmed robots, and he enjoyed it even more when the tape in their computer got a crinkle it in and made something interesting happen. Carol was being very interesting now, she'd blown a fuse that Mitchell didn't know she had, and it was wonderful!
"Jealousy! Carol, that's shocking! Sorta like cancer, hee-hee-hee!"
Mitchell was drooling. His mind was being given too many kinds of pleasure, physio-as well as psycho-logical, and there was just no other way to handle it. He was receiving such attention, and from such nice pieces of feminine fluff! His own body was amazing him with its ability to display incredible lust and stiffness of the private parts in spite of the incredible humor of the situation. Mitchell couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh his balls off or wring his nuts with orgasm more, and he decided he'd suspend judgment and come what will.
All of a sudden, the sight of four bouncing tits between his legs became too much for him, and his sense of humor gave right of way to his bestial instincts and he decided to come in Lisa's mouth. Her sucking was just too good to withstand, and Mitchell jiggled his sack and felt his rocks blast off a bucketful of slop into the little girl's hot red lips. Lisa grunted and dribbled his sauce into his lap as Carol's tongue short-circuited her nervous system and catapulted her into an orgasm. Mitchell's cock fell out of her shivering lips and Lisa's face flopped down against his balls and started to emit the most unseemly noises as Carol nibbled her clitoris and sucked her scum with a nasty vengeance. Mitchell looked down at the exhausted little girl in his lap and had a fit of giggles.
"A knockout! You win by a knockout! Hee-hee! Carol, you outboxed her box! Hee-hee-hee! Oh, gee, Carol, that's sorta like cancer!"
Mitchell was rolling on the floor, holding his sides and laughing uncontrollably. The girls and the mescaline had done him in, and his head was splitting into pieces that he couldn't recognize. He no longer could pay much attention to anything that was going on around him, it took too much work, and the severity of his laughing fit didn't allow for distractions.
Meanwhile, DesSeychelles had been watching his teeny bop girl friend suck and get sucked and then pass out for the ten count, and he found himself having an erection again. Lee was wriggling on top of him, she couldn't move, what with her wrists and ankles so tightly bound, and DesSeychelles had been too wiped out to attempt moving out from underneath her. But now his cock was getting chafed beneath his belly as it swelled in size and throbbed against the piles of the carpet. He had to move, and with what seemed to him to be an infinite effort, he hoisted Lee up on his back and dropped her down on the bed. He saw how her eyes were riveted on his cock, and that inflamed him beyond the point where self-control could even enter as a concept, much less be successfully employed. Lee looked so helpless, she was so tightly trussed up, she couldn't go anywhere, and his cock was so painfully stiff! DesSeychelles figured he'd maybe regret it in the morning, but in the morning he'd be crashing, and he wouldn't be able to pay much heed to pangs of guilt or anything else of that nature, he'd have too much gravel in his head, and he'd probably sleep through the morning and well into the afternoon in any case.
"Oh! DesSeychelles! Are you going to put ALL of that into my iddy biddy hole? Jee-zus!"
Lee was still in little girl space, and DesSeychelles found that disorienting, but her body wasn't a little girl's body, and his cock wasn't a little boy's cock, so he decided the hell with doubts and indecision and just stuffed it into her slit and wallowed.
Nat was lying underneath the stool on the floor, and he was seeing incredible movies in his mind as he looked about the room. He was sure his performance had been well-received, he saw himself on the cover of "People" magazine already, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he found out he didn't need them just then because of all the impossible things he was seeing without them. He lay on the floor listening to all the fuck and suck sounds coming from all corners of the room and reached down to his cock and started to beat off to the image of his shit-eating grin on the cover of "People" magazine. He turned the pages of the magazine in his mind and saw photographs of the high points of the performance: Nathan coming in Lisa's twat as she fell out of the wicker chair, Nathan shoving his head into the space between Lee's thighs while little Lisa gave him a blow-job, Nathan getting sucked, Nathan getting fucked, Nathan, Nathan, Nathan!
Then there was something more than that. There was something wet and squirmy covering the place where his hand had just been a moment ago, and now there was a slippery eel-like thing doing rim shots on his bulb. Nathan was proud of himself for being able to imagine that he was getting a blow-job so vividly, and thought what a wonderful thing the mind was to be able to play such lovely tricks on itself. Nathan decided he'd have to learn this trick well and remember it later. He wanted to be able to give himself mental blow-jobs until he died, it would save so much effort, he could go on tour and perform his trick for money, and then he'd get on the cover of "People" magazine a second time!
Nathan knew it was a purely mental blow-job, because he noticed that his hands seemed to be hovering somewhere in the vicinity of his sides. Nathan decided to open his eyes to see what it looked like, the better to do it again the next time that Lee was on the rag, and after half a minute of deciding, he finally opened them and was terribly disappointed.
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t! You're not a figment of my imagination! You're Carol!"
Nathan immediately forgot how. disappointed he was when he saw her huge tits swaying into his knees. Nathan tried to lift his head up a little to get a look at her twat, but he banged his forehead against the bottom of the seat of the stool and collapsed. Well, it didn't matter, anyway. Obviously, it's there. He could invent it in his mind and watch it all he wanted with his eyes closed.
Meanwhile, Mitchell noticed that Carol was distracted, and that Lisa was still lying in his lap. Mitchell was fascinated by the ridiculous juxtaposition of her brunette mop and bright red crop of cunt tufts, and he wanted to explore the latter a little more thoroughly than Carol had allowed him to. Mitchell pushed and pulled at Lisa, and she moved to his touch like a mound of jello. That was very interesting, he thought. Totally zonked little girl, a mere heap of pliable, succulent gelatin! Mitchell decided it would be entertaining and instructive to see what happened when he put his fork in the jello. He rolled her over on her back and bugged his eyes at the fantastic sight of her flopping tits. More jello! He touched her nipples, and they jiggled. Mitchell was drooling again. His eyes lost interest in the nipples once the jiggling stopped, and moved down her smooth white belly to the ridiculous patch of red. Mitchell touched her clitoris, and it jiggled. Jello, jello! Mitchell moved his fingers across her sleek thighs and touched his gorging phallus. Fork!
Mitchell slid alongside of her and fiddled with her slit and felt some come trickle out. Put a dime in the slot and a candy bar comes out. Put two quarters in the vending machine and a can of beans comes out that's hot inside when you open it! Put twelve inches of horse cock in the vaginal opening and a bucket of sauce comes gushing out that's warm and sticky as a McDonald's apple pie!
Mitchell flopped on top of her and wiggled his worm into her hole and got his motor running. Lisa's face was absolutely vacant, and Mitchell couldn't get over it. A delectable fucking machine! A fucking delectable machine! A fucking mechanical delight, and so on! DesSeychelles always had such nice little girls!
Mitchell crammed his foot of rigid flesh all the way up the little girl's cunt and noticed that he must have pushed the right button. Like magic, her arms came to life and scraped across his back, and her legs wrapped themselves like a pair of pincers around his waist. She was so full of surprises! Little girls were just so interesting!
"Nat? Are you fucking me, Nat?"
"Hee-hee!"
"Somebody's fucking me! Oh, wow, who are you? You're so big, are you Shells?"
"Sorta like Shells. Sorta like cancer!
Hee-hee-hee!"
"Are you Mitchell? Did you just fuck me before, Mitchell?"
"Yes, I'm Mitchell. No, you sucked me. Yes, you're cray-zee!"
"Mitchell? Mitchell! Oh, wow!"
Lisa's mind wasn't used to having so many orgasms in one afternoon. It was getting used to having a lot of mescaline in it for long stretches of time, though, and she was beginning to think blowing her brains away with drugs was a lot like blowing them away by getting fucked. She liked both forms of oblivion, especially when she could have both of them at the same time. She didn't mind the animal mindlessness she'd been wallowing in for a day or two. She was beginning to think that thinking was just something to pass the time with between grunts. She wasn't thinking that very deeply, though, because she was too busy grunting.
Lisa started squealing like a pig with a pitchfork up its ass, and Carol figured out that something was going on. She shoved four fingers up Nat's ass and squeezed his balls with her other hand like walnuts in a nutcracker, and Nat chirped like a parakeet being pressed in a waffle iron and fluttered his sauce in an instant into Carol's anxious mouth. That chore done, Carol gulped his gruel and turned around to find out what Mitchell was doing with that bitch.
"Mitchell, you shit! You're fucking her!"
Mitchell had a mouthful of tit and didn't want to be bothered. He let the little girl's udder flop out of his mouth to take a breathing spell and belched. "Shut up or I'll break your leg," he said, and shot his wad.
Carol couldn't think of anything to say. Her . head was too filled up with rage for any words to find a parking space, and she didn't know any that were strong enough, anyway. She picked up the loose pieces of rope that were scattered across the floor and ran over to Mitchell and the bitch and yanked him off her. Then he dragged her away from him, and when she got her to the wicker chair, she picked her up and threw her down in it and started strapping her in. She wanted to make sure that Mitchell couldn't be tempted by her any more, and pretty soon her quest for certainty had totally immobilized the girl. Her cunt was dripping, her brain was tripping, and she wasn't sure what was going on, but at least this time in the chair, she wouldn't have to worry about whether she'd fall out or not.
Meanwhile, Nathan was beginning to notice that his blow-job was over, and he started looking around on the floor to try and find out what had happened to it. His eyes accidentally happened to take in the scene on the bed, and for the first time he noticed that DesSeychelles was fucking his wife. At first he was upset by that. It was quite all right for him to fuck yummy Lisa, she was just another one of DesSeychelles' amusements, and certainly he didn't take her seriously. Lee, on the other hand, was his wife, and that probably meant that he took her seriously, or at least sometimes, or at least more seriously than DesSeychelles took Lisa. That seemed to mean that Nat should be pissed off. But Lee was acting like a little girl again, and everybody was tripping anyway, and besides, DesSeychelles was bigger than him.
Nathan was stricken with an idea. As he sifted through the alternative interpretations of the situation on the bed, he noticed that his mind kept returning to the first one: Lee was acting like a little girl! And she was being a bad girl, too, she was fucking DesSeychelles, and fucking for him right in front of daddy. Natty grew giddy as he reckoned up the possibilities: why, as soon as DesSeychelles was done, he could climb up on the bed and give her a good spanking! She was already bound hand and foot, and there was no point in wasting such a golden opportunity.
Nathan crawled along the floor and pulled himself up onto the bed and waited for his wife to stop fucking. As soon as DesSeychelles had popped off, Nat tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey, Shells, I wanna cut in on this dance!"
DesSeychelles gave a startled look in Nathan's general direction and rolled off the bed. He rebounded off Lisa's tightly bound feet and set the wicker chair rocking, and just lay there for a while with his fingers in his ears.
Lee noticed something was missing, and opened her eyes to find out what it was. DesSeychelles was gone, that seemed to be it. Something else, too.
"Natty!"
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
"Oh, Nathan, I didn't, I didn't, well, I mean I mean, ummmm ... "
"H-t-t-t-t-t-t-t!"
Nat was enjoying himself a great deal. This was going to be his second performance of the afternoon's festivities. The more he thought about the new games he and his wife had been playing the last couple days, the more sense they started to make to his mescalated mind. Nat was going to get to be big daddy and beat the shit out of his little girl. Oh boy!
"Lee-Lee, you've been a bad girl!"
"Oh, Natty!"
Lee was starting to cry. She'd been so naughty, and now daddy was going to scold her. She was ashamed of herself, and cried some more.
"Do you know what daddy's going to do to you, Lee-Lee?"
Nat pinched Lee's buttocks and hoisted her rear into the air and dropped her pussy on his knees. Then he reached for the hair brush on the lamp table and held it up over her ass.
"Do you know what daddy's going to spank you with, Lee-Lee?"
"Waaaaaah!"
"The hair brush, Lee-Lee!"
"Oh, no no no no!"
"Oh, yes yes yes. And does Lee-Lee know what part of the hair brush daddy's going to spank her with?"
"Not the bristles, daddy."
"The bristles!"
"No, not the bristles!"
"Yes! H-t-t-t-t-t! Yes! The bristles!"
"No, not the bristles!"
"Yes, the bristles!"
"AAAAH! Anything but the bristles!" Nat beamed with smug satisfaction and smashed the bristles into her ass. Pound, pound, pound, it was so much fun, and soon Lee's ass was as red as the nose of a drunken Siberian with a head cold.
Mitchell gawked at Nat and Lee's love play and got an idea. He was pissed off at Carol for being so rude to the girl he'd just fucked, and decided to break her leg. He raised up his arm and smashed it down at her shin, but he missed and started screaming with pain and he felt his hand shatter like a porcelain bowl dropped into a cement mixer. He was peaking on the mescaline now, and the pain got stuck on a tape loop and played over and over again in his mind.
Carol was perplexed. As far as she could tell, Mitchell had, for no reason she could figure out, just tried to break his hand. She thought that was pretty crazy, and backed away from him.
"Did you hurt yourself?" she said from the other side of the room.
"Carol! Look what you just did to my hand!"
"Mitchell! What the fuck are you...."
She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, since Mitchell had jumped up from the floor and had just got his fingers stuck into her throat and was screaming too loud for him to hear her question anyway.
"Mitchell! You piece of shit! What the fuck's the matter with you?!!"
Mitchell slammed his good hand into her face and wheedled.
"You piss me off!"
Carol couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. She tried to figure out what she had done, but she was peaking on the mescaline now and couldn't remember anything. She hoped she hadn't threatened to cut his balls off again, that would explain things, but it wouldn't offer much hope for her, so she rejected that explanation. If only she could remember what had just been happening!
"Oh, shit!" Carol muttered, and passed out.
Chopsoman had walked around Nat's house half a dozen times after he'd been thrown out. He'd been trying to think of a funny line to use when he climbed back through the window, but he was too hung over, and he couldn't think of anything, so he stopped circling Nat's house and headed for a restaurant where he could get some Bromo Seltzer and fruit juice and maybe a pot or two of coffee.
He found a greasy spoon located just a couple blocks away, and he walked slowly through the door and dropped his ass on one of the red counter cushions and reached for a menu.
He couldn't concentrate on the menu long to notice anything that he wanted. His eyes would drift over columns of ink in random, and therefore mostly diagonal, lines that managed to photograph virtually no coherent images, and certainly no recognizable words. He knew he was doing something wrong, but his head hurt too much, all his somatic energy was going into maintenance, there was a budget crunch on, and not enough to go around to fund a think tank to get to the heart of the matter.
He remembered that he knew what he wanted, anyway, and threw the menu on the floor. One of the waiters saw him do that and tapped his shoulder and scowled. Chopsoman cringed. The waiter actually expected him to bend over and pick the fucking thing up! That was physically impossible, and Chopsoman wanted to tell him so, but that was physically impossible, it would require connecting more than a half dozen words together in a string, and that would have been harder than reading the menu.
The waiter was bigger than he was, too, but even if he was a midget, it was his place; and he could make trouble for him, and he couldn't possibly cope with trouble until he'd had some pills and a pot of black coffee, preferably burned twice and recently reheated.
He had to think of something to say.
"Want a tip? Pick it up."
That phrase had exhausted him. He'd been pushed out to the furthest limits of his semantic capacity. He began to feel for the slobs who sat around making up four-word slogans for national ad campaigns, and for the first time in his life the thought occurred to him that that wasn't such a soft gig. Chopsoman ran through the list of things he wanted to order another dozen times in his mind until he thought he had it right, and then he leaned over the counter and tried to get somebody's attention.
He lifted his hand and started to say the word "Bromo," but the man he was trying to get to notice him was off down to the far end of the counter with a plate of home fries and once over lightly, and Chopsoman got no farther than "Br ... ," and felt foolish with his hand dangling in midair, so he dropped it and let his forefinger land on his nose so that anybody who'd been witnessing the failed transaction from beginning to end would hopefully be fooled into thinking he'd just been trying to scratch his nose, that's all.
