Carver went because he'd been using Maryon in a way that she could the more easily perceive because of her studies in Social Anthropology. As she moved into her nineteenth year and the beginning of the '70s she spent much time in analyzing her near decade of sexual experience and began to see that, though she had most often had her own pleasure, it had been at the price not, actually, of willing cooperation, but of an enforced coercement that had been laid on her by physical or moral pressures. Even when she had actively sought out some new enlargement of her sexual scene, it had usually come about by her being prepared to submit to another's whims.
She was now able to see that this would have been bearable, that to cater to someone else did not necessarily mean that one thereby had to lose something, that a compromise, or a share of giving was, after all, the only way in which any area of life could be maintained in a civilized manner. But, not knowing this at the time, she had appeared as a 'victim' to the other participants in her sexual adventures and had thereby been degraded in their eyes, from her brother Mike on through Colin and Sylvia and Johnny, through Karen, through the 'cats'… Jim, Wes, Carver. All had taken advantage of her and she had willingly gone along with them, taking her joys as though they had been crumbs thrown her from the table of the others' sensual feasts.
A comparison of various cultures throughout space and time showed her that it was always possible to find one that broke the more usual taboos… incest as practiced in ancient Egypt, polyandry in Northern India, polygamy in China and in Islam, sodomy in Glorious Golden Greece… The list of unacceptable sexual practices' became smaller and smaller as she read and studied in the literature on the Global Village.
Mistress of all these facts, and of herself, Maryon began a steady program of search and fulfillment, determined to live a full and complete sex life. But the way was not necessarily easy because of her knowledge…
A visit, alone, to a meeting of the local chapter of the Sexual Liberation Movement found her one evening on the porch of an old Victorian-style mansion whose purple-painted door and orange lintels proclaimed it as the repository of the 'new' and 'in' and 'far-out'. At her buzz the door opened to disclose a short, stringy-haired blonde girl in a throat-to-ankle wrapper, presumably an 'officer' or functionary of the SLM. An imitation Tiffany lamp gave off a red-bulbed glow to illuminate the small foyer into which she was quickly ushered, and another lit a slightly larger room opening off it. "Hi," said the girl, after locking the front door. "Just feel free to wander around. If you see anything you like…" The statement was loaded with implication. "If you feel like skinning down, just drop your stuff in this room – find yourself a corner or something – it'll be easier to get yourself together that way when you're ready to split. Have fun."
With that the blonde pulled a pair of granny-glasses out of her pocket, put them on, and dropped the wrapper onto a chair to show herself as a rather chunky nude with a thick waist and a wealth of hair at her crotch. Looking at the flat planes of the girl's butt as she wandered away, Maryon begin to realize why the lighting was so subdued. She'd brought no purse, and she didn't feel like stripping down till she'd seen what the action was like here, so she contented herself with dropping her maxi-coat behind a couch whose surface was covered with little piles of clothing and went cautiously off to explore. Not quite knowing what to expect, she'd come dressed in a black leather ensemble of vest, mini and boots, over a pale blue bodystocking, the vest joined at the front with a single silver chain. She soon found that she was over-dressed. Practically all those she saw in the house were nude, and those that were not wore only minimum clothing that did more to enhance the wearer's sex than to conceal it. There was a tall, crop-haired black girl in glasses, for instance, who wore a kind of ornamental metallic yoke about her neck from which hung down hundreds of white silky filaments, through which her proud strong black breasts protruded impudently. When the girl struck a pose with a foot placed on the head of a boy on the floor, her long leg broke through the white waterfall to disclose a belly whose base was covered with a wooly black mat to match her hair.
Every room in the multi-roomed house had a different colored light-bulb either hanging from the ceiling or glowing from a stand in a comer. And every room in the house contained at least five people engaged in some quasi-sexual activity, from comparatively innocent naked necking between boy and girl to several copulating couples to blow-jobbing men to mutually masturbating girls. There seemed to be very little voyeurism involved, and Maryon figured this was because there was just too much to do. Everybody seemed to have found a partner but even as she watched two couples merged together and changed partners in mid course and a single roving male wandered into a room to thrust his hand-held erection in between a mobile mouth-and-cunt team to no one's objection. Do-it-yourself seemed to be the name of this game. Still, Maryon wasn't quite ready to be this indiscriminate and sought for some halfway measure that would take her out of the role of being mere spectator. Returning to the room off the foyer, she saw that it was already occupied by a bearded male whose age she couldn't quite determine in the dim light. Naked, he was stretching himself as if weary, in a pose that reminded her of some Roman statue, his back toward her, head half turned. At sight of her he grinned and good-naturedly winked, immediately taking her into his aura of semi-boredom with all this. Ignoring him Maryon unchained her blouse, put it down onto her maxi-coat, and began to unbuckle the broad belt of her mini. The man… no boy, he, she could now make out… momentarily paused in his task of pulling on a brief pair of black jockey shorts to look at her, and kept his eyes on her body as she dropped the skirt and stepped out of it to reveal her long, slim-waisted and voluptuously curved breasts and ass in the tight-clinging blue bodystocking. She'd noticed a lot of crap on the floor, litter, paper, bits of broken plastic wine-glasses, and decided to keep her black boots on. When she left the room she noticed from the corner of her eye that the bearded man, in his late twenties or early thirties, had restricted himself to the jockey shorts and was preparing to follow her. Well… who knew? He looked like he might be pretty good. Conscious of his continued gaze, she let her blue-shrouded butt roll just a bit more than usual and drew herself up so her tits would stand resolutely out against the thin covering.
She climbed the stairs, stepping over a girl stretched blindly writhing on them with an unsexually defined long-haired head buried in her crotch, and made her way to a room lit with discreet blue table-lamp that, she soon realized, as she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, canceled out her costume so that it seemed she was a nippleless blue-skinned Venusian in boots. The room's single bed contained a number of slowly-moving bodies, all naked, of both sexes, while on the bizarrely carpeted floor sat two youths and a girl, a black with an Afro, a thin boy with a WASP-hive… the girl, perhaps a redhead, heavily made-up about the eyes and mouth, hair cut short and close to her scalp, her chest nearly as flat as the boys', all nude. Judging from the quick look Maryon gave them as she entered, they were rapping about something non-sexual, for the two pricks and twin nipples were soft and unaroused.
But her arrival brought something new into the scene. "Hey, man," greeted the black, "whad'y'know, baby!? Come sit down a while… park your butt."
Shrugging to herself, aware that the black-banded beard was leaning against the doorway, Maryon crossed over and let herself limberly to the floor. Immediately WASP-head reached out and touched her breast. "Wow," he breathed. "Y'had me fooled there, chick. Thought you'd cut your knockers off there for a while. How come you're all dressed up? You uptight or som'p'n?"
"Way out, honey," said the girl. She was a redhead, Maryon decided, after a look at the blue-glinting auburn oasis that sat between the girl's thighs. She nodded and said "Hi!", glad to be so easily accepted into the group, not at all minding that the WASP was continuing absently to stroke her breast through the tight-knit material, the black was running his hands through her hair, and the girl plucking at the muscle of her thigh.
"I'm Maryon?" she asked, and quickly the others responded, as "Wash", "Dave", and "Vinny",
"We were just rapping about recruiting, getting in fresh blood," offered Wash, fingering her ear. "We's interested in turning on some more bodies to where it's all at with us… We kinda run the SLM y'see."
"Yeah," put in Dave, "welcome to the club, Maryon chick. Haven't seen you before, here or anywhere."
"Uh-huh… I'd've remembered her!" said Vinny, running the back of one hand along Maryon's thigh and taking the blonde girl's wrist in her other to place it against her flank.
"Ae you bi, honey?"
Maryon laughed lightly. "Can do," she said, "but I can take it or leave it, frankly."
"Mmmhhh… but can you give it, honey," throated the redhead.
"And give and give and give and give! I bet," said Dave, fully engaged now in tweaking at her nipple to make it cone out against the material.
"And life's just full o'give 'n' take," drawled Wash, leaning over to kiss her ear and run his tongue around in it so that she tingled.
Both boys were getting hard-ons, Maryon noticed, while Vinny's ridiculously small nipples poked out of her like nail-heads. Behind her the figure at the door came just inside and sat with his back against the jamb. She stretched her legs out straight in their boots, leaned back on her hands, and brazenly offered herself up to their combined caresses. "I guess I do all right," she said, closing her eyes and pressing her ear against Wash's thick-lipped mouth.
Vinny still had hold of her wrist but, instead of trying to bring it again to her own body, bounced herself cross-legged over the carpet until she was slightly behind Maryon, on the opposite side from the young black, and adjusted herself so that now the blonde girl's arm was encircled by her legs, with her hand trapped under the copper-covered pussy. She leaned forward so that her chin rested on Maryon's shoulder. "You want to make it with me, honey?" she whispered, squirming so that Maryon could feel her loose wet vulva on her knuckles, warm and juicy.
She hesitated. She wasn't sure yet just what she wanted. Dave must have overheard the question. "Hey, Vinny chick, no fair you hog it all, you pig. I could do with a bit of bishop-bashing myself!"
"Me too, man," said Wash in her other ear. "Say… what say we all get our rocks off, huh, baby?"
"Okay," said Maryon, after but a moment's hesitation. "But I'll have to get out…"
"Hey, hey… we gonna liberate you, we liberate you all the way," cried Wash, getting to his feet and going over to the bed, whose occupants were still dreamily hugging and humping. Leaning over them, the black picked up something from the bedside table and returned to the three on the floor. "C'mon, Maryon," he said, "just kneel up, now… that's right. Now just lean yourself back again, baby, like you were before… yup, that's the way. Now, just hang in there a minute…"
Arched backward over her heels, her cuntish mound and the twin peaks of her breasts thrown prominently up at either end of the straining curves of her hard, firm belly, Maryon saw, upside down, the bearded stranger tugging the black jockey shorts from his ankles. Across the blue-hazed room she could make out the dark forest between his thighs out of which sprang a barkless white tree-trunk of sturdy proportions.
Something cold touched her own invisible thighs and, after her initial jump of surprise, it took her several seconds before she realized that Wash was cutting away the thin blue material at her crotch with a pair of scissors. She bridled at the thought of her blonde fuzz and pink-lipped luscious fruit being thus exposed. After he'd taken a good-sized triangle out Wash, bidding her be still, cut two neat circles about the globes of her breasts so that she could feel her taut nipples spring out as their tension was released to the air.
Swiftly Wash and Dave slid alongside of her, put an arm each under her shoulders, took her own arms and pulled them down so that her hands rested on their rampant pricks, they lowered their lips to her breasts. Hands caught at her booted bent legs and pulled them out and apart. A warm wet sponge seemed to soak down on her and she knew that the redhead had placed her hungry lips to the steamy dish of meat that Maryon presented. In her hands she clutched the upstanding staffs of the two men who mouthed her bared breasts, while their hands held her shoulders down to the carpet, and slid smoothly up and down the blue nylon of her inner thighs. She squeezed and rubbed and jerked at their two pricks, rubbing her thumbs over their tips, slicing her nails into their opened holes, basketing their balls with her fingers. Her cunt responded quickly to the probing tongue of Vinny, who varied her industrious employment by taking the gristle of her clitoris between her teeth and grinding on it gently. After a little while the activity at her core ceased, and then the red-tufted crotch of the other girl came down on her face as Vinny reversed herself over the blonde and, as her busy mouth returned to its tantalizing task, Maryon began to work her own lips around the soft and juicy fruit laid against them. She slid a long lascivious tongue in between the pomegranate halves and probed mercilessly, urging the other on to do likewise. Hot silky thighs clamped about her cheeks and moved slowly there as Vinny strained to offer a loving cuntish kiss, herself now laving languorously in a cat's lick about the blonde girl's craving cleft.
Maryon brought her black-booted long legs up, bending her knees, and let her inner thighs slither their nyloned sleekness about the redhead's ears, letting Wash and Dave continue their tormenting teasing behind her knees and down into the covered crack of her ass.
Her breasts began to move of their own volition as they answered the close-mouthed questing questionings of the two whose naked cocks she held so hotly, and beneath Vinny's light weight she began to move restlessly as her nipples were nipped and chewed like succulent candy. The sight of the red-haired girl's hard small blue-white buttocks above her wide blue eyes stirred her to fresh sexual stimulation and she closed them, wishing to prolong and savor the mood and feeling…
Then with a shock she realized that Vinny had suspended her titillating torture, and that something else was replacing her mobile mouth. Something that was beginning to penetrate her eager, yearning vagina. Something too large, surely, to be the redhead's thumb…
She opened her eyes in welcoming wonderment and was startled to see, peering cheerfully down at her, sighting at her between the blue-tinged ice cream scoops of Vinny's trembling ass, the face of the bearded stranger. With the cooperation of Vinny, who'd moved her head sideways on Maryon's widespread thigh, he'd sunk his shaft into her expertly prepared quim and now, with his hands firmly grasping her shoulders around the outsides of the red-haired girl's thighs, he was pulling his prick into her. With the weight of the two bodies on top of her, Maryon was breathless, but in no way could she prevent the rapidly cresting pleasure he was giving her. Trigger-happy from Vinny's manipulations of her little clit, she sucked in her belly, buried her head wildly burrowing into the sweet-sour fruit between her jaws, and came in a wave of sweet release that flushed her body like a hot shower on a cold day.
Her hands jerked spasmodically and she felt sticky cum on her wrists as Wash and Dave spent their loads. Gagging and gasping for breath, she could not stop the oozing stream of Vinny's cream as it trickled down about her lips nor control the convulsive jerkings of her loins as they threshed to expend their contents. Hot and flushed and elated and satisfied, Maryon still had to wait until the stranger suddenly spouted off in her, adding a fresh sensory stimulus to her quivering cunt that set her to deep, strong squeezes that rippled along his comfortable, steady-stroking cock.
Finally she almost passed out under the strain, weight and excitement, but she was aware that the others moved from her for an instant before coming back to take her into a warm family embrace that rolled them, laughing and exhausted, on the carpet.
She shook her head to clear it and found herself facing Wash. "Hey, baby, like we said… welcome to the club," he said. Then, as an afterthought, added, as he rolled the bearded stranger onto her: "This here stud's Nick. How'r you doin', Nick?"
Suddenly the thought of being introduced to a guy who'd just finished fucking her struck her as funny, and she went into hysterical giggling which caught the others up in nervous relief.
And that's how Maryon met Nick… how I met Nick.
We stay more or less together now, each of us having a small apartment, across the hall from each other so that we can visit at will and still have a place of our separate own.
I went twice more to a SLM meeting, once alone, once with Nick. I didn't need it any more, but it was pleasant for me to see others going through stages that I'd long since passed through on my way up to Nick. For he gratifies me, treats me as a person… as a woman in womanly things, as an equal in manly things.
For a time, while I was still, I suppose, unconsciously rebelling against the feelings I was having toward him, I set out deliberately to pick up men, in bars, in cafes, even on the street, treating them as the sexual object they evidently thought me to be… putting them through their surprised paces, playing the part of a male in a rut.
But, well… Nick and I are making it. I have my Bachelors, and mean to spend some time in what I call Sexual Anthropology. Nick is in the same field… the same bag. We have a lot more to do in bed than fuck, and on the other hand if we feel like having it off at two o'clock of a Wednesday afternoon between classes we'll find a convenient closet and he'll slip it to me.
If we have a philosophy about it, I guess you could say we both agree that fucking should be fun, that it should have flavor and fervor, and that it should be freely participated in…