The first time I ever saw Bob he was stripped naked and having sex relations with a 19-year-old blonde at a swap party. I had gone to the party with Bill, but most of the other couples there were married. When Bill and I arrived about 9:30, the group had formed a circle in the living room and were all watching Bob with this girl.
She was a newcomer to the crowd, the wife of a young man who worked as a salesman for the company headed by the host of that particular party. They had played some sort of game to determine whom she should swap with first, and the rules were that she must be initiated in front of everyone.
Bob Morgan was not a conventionally good-looking man. He was 45, a little fat and with graying hair cut very short in a military style. His face was rugged and very virile, with several scars or cuts still showing. He was a retired colonel who had worked in very clandestine military intelligence operations and he was somehow still involved with quite secret work that required him to just “disappear” for weeks or months at a time.
Of course, I did not know all of this as I perched on the edge of a chair and allowed the host to agitate my clitoris with his fingers while we all watched the performance entranced. All I knew was that I had never before seen a man who so compelled me to watch him. The novelty of watching and being watched in sexual acts had long ago worn off. I still enjoyed it immensely, but never to this extent.
The blonde girl was lying on her back on a mat, her legs wrapped up around Bob's back as he hovered over her, his long penis penetrating her in the most beautifully timed and rhythmic strokes I had ever seen. It was so obvious that he was controlling the entire thing. The girl was his slave, her body and emotions reacting to his direction as music from a trained orchestra reacts to the director's baton.
I had never in my life seen a man capable of such a cool and controlled performance with a completely new girl under pressure like this. The girl was a darling, her figure perfect and youthful, yet I watched the eyes of the others in the room and discovered that they too were following each move that Bob made, while the girl's movements and occasional outcries of “Faster! Faster!” were all but ignored.
I empathized strongly with her, knowing the feelings she must be experiencing. Bob was playing with her, teasing her with his slow and measured strokes, denying her the speed-up so that she could reach her climax. She was such a young girl, probably incapable of multiple climaxes, but Bob was endearing himself to her by his very denial.
Yet his control over her was so complete that she could not hurry the process herself. As our host continued to finger me to climax, I felt irresistibly drawn to this man. I stood up and began to undress. Nobody noticed except our host and that was because he had to move to keep his fingers working on me.
When I was nude, I walked out to join Bob and the girl in a way that I had done many times at parties. I lay with my head just against her buttocks so that I could bring my lips and mouth into contact with their union. My whole body was aflame.
“Get her out! Dammit… get her out of the way!” Bob screamed angrily, while he never missed a stroke, never made a move of his body or limbs that was not directly concerned with what he was doing.
“He's a funny one,” our host whispered to me as he helped me up from the floor, my feelings shattered, “That's Bob Morgan. Quite a guy though. He's here with Suzy tonight… just got back from some super-secret job in Viet Nam.
And that was when I learned all about Bob Morgan, from my host, a man whose name I can't even remember, while I continued to watch the spectacle in front of me. Bob began to go faster now and the blonde became flooded with ecstatic wriggles, twists and a frantic pumping motion of her body. When their mutual climax came a few moments later, it was almost possible to see her inner muscles working on him. With each outward stroke, he seemed to bring part of her insides out with him. I don't think anyone there had ever seen anything like it before.
Into the evening and through the small morning hours, things broke up into small groups, twosomes, threesomes and so forth. I desperately wanted to connect with Bob, but he always was occupied by one or two other women, and usually off in a bedroom with them. As for myself, I was certainly not bored. Our host went down on me for a solid half hour, and then I was taken by two men from California who were visiting.
Eleanor, the host's wife, introduced me to a new girl from Texas who was bi, and the two of us went into a bedroom for a session, and then were joined by her husband and Luke. I think it must have been almost daylight when I had gone to take a douche in the small bathroom off the foyer, that I got a chance to see Bob again.
It certainly wasn't a romantic setting, but then swingers are used to anything. He walked right in on me as I sat there douching. I was surprised, but not shocked. I could meet him on his own terms. If he was bizarre enough to stay there after he came in, I was weird enough to go right ahead with what I was doing.
“How nice. I had hoped to have the opportunity to talk with you privately,” Bob commented, looking me over very straightforwardly, even stepping back to get a good look between my legs. “I must apologize for upsetting you when you had the urge to join us last evening, but you must realize that the concentration I had to use precluded a trio. You almost ruined the whole business.”
Bob seemed pleased at what he saw, smiled, and then busied himself at the lavatory, washing his hands and face, then searching through the medicine cabinet for a razor and shaving cream.
“You made me feel rather like an ass,” I told him with a weak laugh, “and this isn't exactly my idea of a place… or situation… in which to get acquainted.”
“You'll get over those remaining inhibitions,” he said casually, shooting pressurized cream on his face and smoothing it around. “I've decided take you under my wing and make a real woman of you. These parties will be off limits from now on. You are single, aren't you?”
“I am divorced,” I stated, absolutely fascinated by his amazing self-assurance and domination, yet determined to put up an expected protest. “I am divorced… but my 14-year-old daughter is spending the summer with me. She stays with me every summer…”
“Do you have a picture of her?”
“Yes… in my purse there, but…”
“Will you show it to me, please?” Bob asked, and there was no element of doubt in voice but that I would comply.
I felt peculiar, but in a wonderful way. Of course, I am odd, and my whole being at that time was completely unorthodox. But in looking back on this, even I am shocked at myself. There I was taking a douche in the bathroom with almost a total stranger who, as he was shaving, announced that he was going to “take over” my life, and I cut off the flow in the douche bag to retrieve a picture of Kathy from my purse.
“Very nice…,” he commented upon looking it the wallet-size, junior-high picture Kathy had it me last year. “She has a sensual face. Is she a virgin?”
“I should hope so!” I said with a note of protest. “She… well, had a tendency to be a bit wild and stay out late… God knows where she meets some of these creeps she shows up with, but… you ask the damnedest questions…”
“You both need a male influence in the home,” Bob observed sharply, turning his attention back to his shaving. “I've been staying at the Riverside Motel since I came back to the States. I think it would be best if I moved in with you tomorrow.”
“Oh, wait a minute now!” I exploded, angered by his presumptuousness as I stood up and wiped myself off, “You're clever enough to know that I like you… that I think you're sexy as hell… if I got down there and tried to lick you and that girl. But this is ridiculous. Just because you're some CIA character…”
“Who told you that?” he literally screamed at me, dropping his razor in the hot water and grabbing me by the neck, “Who told you that?”
“Ow… awk… you're hurting me!” I objected, fruitlessly struggling against his iron grip, “I… I was just told that you were… used to be in military intelligence or something…”
“That's all they told you?” he demanded, relaxing his grip just enough to let me know that those strong hands could strangle me to death in an instant if he so desired.
“They… said you still spooked or something… it was very vague…”
“All right,” he said, letting me go and returning to his shaving as if nothing had happened. “It's no secret that I was an intelligence officer. I still travel occasionally on classified work. I may be gone sometimes for indefinite periods. You must not question this. Now, what size quarters do you have?”
“Look… if you think you're going to move in on me,” I started again as he splashed water over his face and toweled it off, ”… you've got another guess coming…
“You need a man. You need constant companionship. The presence of a man is essential to your physical and mental well-being,” he rattled off at me, turning to face me and gathered me in his arms with those strong hands, “If you allow yourself to keep going to these parties, having boyfriends and girlfriends all over the place, you'll become much more of a tramp than you are now. Think of yourself ten years from now. Think of your daughter.”
“I… I am thinking of my daughter,” I told him nervously, overawed by the strength of his presence, the hypnotic influence he seemed to be wielding over me, “I've never had a man in the house… except as a very proper visitor… while she's at home.”
“Do you have an extra bedroom?”
“Yes… we use it as a den downstairs…”
“Don't you think I could take care of your physical needs?”
“Yes… but…”
Bob pressed his massive body to me and I think I must have succumbed totally, body and soul. It was as if I was no longer capable of self control. I had become weak and lifeless, dependent upon him for strength, for sustenance. I was no longer my own master.
Ridiculous? Yes, in looking back on it all. But when we looked in the bathroom mirror at ourselves then, Bob in only his shorts and I mother naked, I felt that it was the most thrilling moment of my life. I was electric with excitement. Nor was the excitement totally a thing of passion, as I had been thoroughly satisfied from a physical standpoint by so many others that night. This was something very different, very personal. I had the distinct feeling that I needed this man, that he could protect me. But from what?
“My name is Bob Morgan. You probably know that already,” he announced after a very warm and free kiss that I enjoyed thoroughly, “What's yours?”
Bob and I went out to breakfast at his motel. It was a beautiful place way out at the edge of town with an open dining patio that looked down to a valley below, It seemed strange that I felt so inordinately relaxed, so tranquil, so at peace with the world. I had turned over everything to Bob. I no longer had responsibilities and, consequently, no fears or worries. At least that was the way I felt at that moment.
Over coffee, we discussed a plan for explaining his presence in the house to Kathy. We discarded any attempt to explain our relationship as platonic, because a 14-year-old girl would be too observant to believe it. Since I was a free agent and obviously did have romantic affairs, it was decided that I would simply tell Kathy that Bob was a very old and dear friend who had been overseas for a while and just come back rather unexpectedly. We would imply that we were close to a point of becoming engaged, picking up our serious romance at the point it had left off.
So far as the neighbors were concerned, the fact that Bob would become a member of the household while Kathy was there would give the situation an air of legitimacy. We even discussed how in casual conversation with the neighbors we would slip in mentions of “his room downstairs.”
It was nine in the morning, when I was in Bob's room at the motel helping him pack, that I decided to call Kathy and prepare her. At the same time, of course, I had to explain my all-night absence, since I usually sneaked in just before dawn from parties and she never knew the difference… I thought.
“Darling! The most wonderful thing has happened!” I told her with bubbling enthusiasm. “When Bill took me out last night, he told me he had a surprise for me-Bill and I are just good friends, you know-and the party was a surprise celebration and reunion for Bob and me. Who is Bob? Oh, goodness, I must have told you about Bob! He's mother's really very dearest friend, but he's been overseas so long I almost thought he would never come back. Well, dear, Bob is coming to stay with us for a while… until they send him back overseas or somewhere. Oh, Kathy, we danced all night and had the most wonderful reunion…”
Bob had three suitcases of clothes and papers. The rest of his belongings were in a huge trunk at the express office and he telephoned them to deliver it to the house. I was feeling the most wonderful I had felt in years as I handed him over the keys to my car and we breezed along the freeway out to the suburbs on the other side of town.
I had a man of my own, a powerful and strong man, yet one who was on my same level of emotional complications. Perhaps, really, we needed each other. Bob would be my tower of strength, but I could also provide him, the wandering global secret agent, with an element of much needed stability. Perhaps… we might really get married? Some day.
And yet, as soon as we walked in the door of my house and Kathy strolled out in the living room from the den to meet us, I knew instinctively that Bob was not all mine. I tried to deny it to myself, and I succeeded for the time being. I deluded myself into not seeing it just as deliberately as Kathy had chosen to wear a fantastically sheer set of yellow baby-dolls to meet her mother's boyfriend.
I blushed when I saw the budding young breasts and the tiny nipples peeping right through the gauzy fabric, and I scolded her about coming out half-nude like that. Bob's clever eyes took in each detail of her lovely young body very quickly, then he laughed off my concern and shook hands with Kathy in a way I can only describe as paternal.
My daughter was and is a very beautiful girl. At 14, her figure was almost totally developed as to a completely feminine configuration, although her breasts were to grow to 36-C's from the 34-B she was then. Kathy's hair is long and a beautiful light brown color, with marvelously silky texture. I remember how I used to just adore running my fingers through the strands when I rolled it. Her face is darling. Most men call her I cute and cuddly, and I tend to feel the same way.
“Oh, Mother!” she responded to my chiding of her for being so revealingly dressed, “I go ” around like this in front of Daddy all the time at home. And Bob's going to be staying with us, so he might as well get used to me.”
I wondered if she flirted and moved herself about like that in front of her father? I had never thought too much about it before, but she was always provocative like that, even around me. I enjoyed it, of course, because I looked on her as being my own product, a very attractive girl whom males would admire and worship. However, I became very conscious of her suggestive behavior around Bob.
The first few days we spent in fixing up the den for Bob and arranging his trunkload of things. There were two attache cases that he told us in no uncertain terms we were never to touch. It seems that I hung onto Bob those first days as if I were literally attached to him physically. I had a secret fear of his being alone with Kathy. However, our being together as a kind of pseudo-family unit seemed to grow on me, and somewhere along the line I discarded my fears, at least on the surface and consciously.
The worst part of that first week was Kathy's constant presence preventing Bob and me from having sex. I kept telling him that I would sneak down to his room after Kathy went to sleep. I explained that it would be perfectly safe because even if Kathy should get up and realize we were together down there, we could just be looking at T-V. But Bob said we should present a very proper image at first, let Kathy have time to do all the snooping she liked, and find nothing.
One evening as the three of us sat looking at T-V, I whispered to Bob that I wanted him so bad, why didn't we tell Kathy we were going to a movie, and then get a motel room for a few hours. He looked at me and frowned, then he seemed to brighten up a moment.
“Turn off the T-V, Kathy,” he directed in his authoritarian manner that we had come to expect. “I think it's time the three of us had a serious talk.”
“Oh… no…” I gasped aloud, not really knowing what it was I expected.
“Gonna tell me about the birds and bees, Bob?” Kathy teased him as she swiveled over to turn off the set. “Dad's already done that, but I like the way the boys tell you better.”
“Don't be such a smart-ass!” Bob blared at Kathy angrily, popping her terribly hard on the buttocks with his hand. “You're a very mature girl for your age and I see no reason to carry on some kind of act around you. You must realize that your mother and I are adults, entitled to adult pleasures, and that we are involved in a serious love affair.”
“Ha-ha!” Kathy burst into laughter as she plopped down in the big chair, her breasts moving about so very noticeably underneath the pink baby-dolls, “I don't think you two are having a serious affair. You haven't slept together the whole time you've been here.”
“Kathy… I ought to punish you for that kind of talk!” I screamed at her.
“Oh, Mother!” she pouted, “Kids aren't dumb! I don't care what you and Bob do. Don't let me stop you.”
“But your father, Kathy. He wouldn't…”
“Mother! Do you think I tell Daddy all my secrets either? We women have to stick together. Besides, I'm going to the drive-in with Chillie tonight, and we may be aw-ful-ly late. You and Bob can move up to your bedroom and make love all night for all I care.”
“Chillie!” I exclaimed, and I was really upset because I had forbidden her to see that awful boy again. “I told you not to go with that idiot… that beatnik again. He's 20 years old and you're only 14, Kathy. What will you be doing all nightlong?”
“Probably not as much as you and Bob are doing. Well, gotta hurry now and get dressed. See ya later… lovers…”
I knew immediately that Kathy had only used Bob's statement of policy to her own advantage. I heard her on the phone as soon as she went to her room. Undoubtedly, she was calling this Chillie creature to tell him the good news. Nor was Bob at all pleased with the results.
“Her father and stepmother undoubtedly have no control over the girl and neither do you,” he stated quite perceptively. “I may have to take over the job of disciplining her, if you can't do better. Do you think she's still a virgin?”
“Why… of course!” I replied immediately, if somewhat hesitant and defensive, then I broke down and confessed, “Oh, I… I don't know, Bob. A mother worries so much. I've thought about it, worried about it, a hundred times… a thousand times. I know that character, Chillie, must have tried. I think he'd try me if he thought he could make it.”
“Have you ever made love with one of your students, Denise?” Bob asked suddenly, fixing me with a stare that I could not avoid.
“Yes… once,” I admitted, almost having forgotten it, almost laughing as I recalled it, “This boy was a senior about 19. He was a terrible student, really. One afternoon he just dropped by the apartment I was living in, and asked if I could give him some help. You might say we had carried on a mild flirtation in the classroom. He was quite handsome and knew how to arouse a girl.
“I was in the mood that afternoon, terribly in the mood. I had him go through the practice piece from THE CURTAIN RISES, you know, where Franz comes in and teaches Elsa how to breathe, placing his hands at her diaphragm and back. He took the part of Franz, and I placed my hands over his and led his right hand up to my breasts. He got the message instantly. He was awkward, but beautiful. He made love to me twice and then we sat in bed and smoked cigarettes and told dirty jokes. I got him to go down on me before he left. I don't think he had ever done that before. It embarrassed him terribly, and I never had any more problems with him. It was all he could do to look at me after that.”
“You've led a rather sordid life, haven't you?” Bob commented, still staring at me. “I suppose you've done just about everything a morally corrupt woman can do. Have you ever whored?”
I refused to answer. I had never been so degraded and humiliated in my life. I put my head in my hands and bit my lip to keep from crying… or from screaming out. I didn't need to admit it in so many words, Bob could read me like a book.
“And look at you now,” he went on, “so sex-crazed that you can't wait for Kathy to get out of the house… so sex crazed that you were desperate to rent a motel room to relieve your lust. You're a very evil woman, Denise. I hope I can cure you.”
Bob's methods of cure were as bizarre as everything else about him. When Kathy went out, he came and sat by me on the couch. We kissed and embraced more hungrily than we ever had before, and I realized again that I had actually never had sex relations with Bob. Three weeks since we had met, and lived in the same house, and never a sex relation.
He loosed my gown and sucked my nipples, pulling on them until they came out full, and then raking them with the surface of his tongue until I felt mad with desire. I groped for his trousers and tried to pull down the zipper only to have him push my hand brusquely away.
“Oh, Bob… I want you inside me, darling,” I whined like the wanton I was. “Oh, Bob… I almost came when you sucked my nipples… oh, Bob…”
I got out of my clothes and lay on the couch, my eyes closed. I moved my body restlessly and snaked my hands up my sides, cupping my breasts in the way that drove most men to distraction. Slowly, I moved my hands over my stomach and twisted my fingers around in the top of my pubic hair.
“Go ahead, Denise. Relieve yourself, if you have to,” Bob told me, and I opened my eyes to find him sitting across from me, his eyes watching every move.
“Don't you… want me?” I asked him almost in tears.
“Of course, I do, Denise. But I'm not an animal. I have to practice constant restraint to keep me alert, deny myself the greatest of needs. You know how I enjoy sex. You've seen me enjoy it, as you shall enjoy it with me some day. For now, I must test myself against anything you can do to provoke me. Go ahead. It's very arousing for a man to watch a woman play with herself.”
I brought up my legs and spread them, giving my fingers full reign of my crotch. I let go and teased the insides of my thighs with my nails, thumbing my soaked vaginal lips and probing for my clitoris. Then, I parted the lips and rubbed freely the insides, working gradually back up to my clitoris and bringing on a flood of orgasms.
One after another they came. I called out to Bob. I cried. I whined. I begged him every way I knew how. Why? Oh, why, did the men who seemed to appeal to me strongest, always torture me this way? But then a strange feeling came over me. I worked on myself harder, finding a new kind of enjoyment in knowing that somehow this was, after all, an interpersonal act, and that in some way Bob was enjoying it.
“Oh… oh, Bob… I'm exhausted… oh,” I finally confessed aloud, laying back and closing my eyes, “At least you can come over and kiss me now. I feel so relaxed… so wonderful.”
“Don't you feel ashamed of yourself?” he asked gruffly, shattering every offbeat illusion and satisfaction I had gained. “I would think you would feel cheap and dirty after that orgy of masturbation you just performed. You don't think a normal woman would feel comfortable after such a depraved exhibition, do you?”
I was so exhausted, so confused, so humiliated and shamed, that I got up and started to put my clothes back on in a trance. The couch cushion was soaked where I had secreted so much, and Bob chided me about that too. I seemed to move around mechanically, taking orders from Bob. We moved everything of his up to my room and re-arranged the den like it had been before, pushing the single Hollywood bed back in the corner, putting the thick cover over it, then making a sofa out of it with the big cushions.
I was terribly tired, tired and frustrated, when we finished. Bob took a pair of pajamas from the drawer and started to undress. I felt so peculiar about the idea of going to bed with him. I felt physically and mentally unclean, as if I might tarnish him with my presence and closeness. I realized then that I was pretty dirty and did need a bath. I had been perspiring heavily with all the work, and I was messy otherwise too.
The shower refreshed me a great deal, a hot bath with scented soap always does. It seems to clean away both kinds of dirt, mental and the physical. It never did a complete job, but it helped immensely. I know whenever I had that feeling after a bath, I recalled Lady Macbeth's line that “will not all the perfumes of Arabia wipe out this damned spot?”
I walked back in the bedroom naked to find Bob lying in bed in the same manner. His penis was already erect and he announced to me, and I do mean announced, “Denise, I am going to make a woman of you. Come here.”
Immediately, I became alive again. It was the most amazing thing. I lay on the bed beside him and melted in his naked embrace. It was absolutely wonderful!
I suppressed my impulse to go down on him. The sight of his thick organ recalled so vividly that scene at the party. I was tensed up and frantic, so anxious for him to make love to me.
My wait was relatively short, considering the three weeks of anxiety and the awful suspense of the hours before. Bob turned over on his back and I straddled him. I yelled for joy at the feel of him entering me. I think it was the most wonderful entrance I have ever enjoyed. I care not what the experts say about the vaginal orgasm or that it is all psychological, the feel of a man's penis inside. The experts have never been entered. They are all men and they don't know what they are talking about.
I knew not to hurry Bob, so I luxuriated in the slow rhythm of moving myself up and down, crying out for joy at the feel of him going in and out of me. I seemed to be lifted with each upward movement to absolutely dizzying heights. I was in a world where humans had no right to be.
My joy and ecstasy in that role was short-lived. In looking back, I think Bob deliberately wanted to prevent me from becoming too satisfied at that moment. He put his hands at my buttocks and lifted me from his shiny wet organ. He crawled out from under me, keeping a hand on my buttocks, to indicate that I was to stay substantially in the same position, going down on all fours.
When I felt his hands on my buttocks from the rear, I tensed with anticipation until I felt the tip of his penis entering me again. I suppose I had been afraid for a moment that he was going to do the other. I was in no mood for that. I wanted to be satisfied.
My orgasms began almost at once. It was such a beautiful feeling. I can't really put it into words. I know I wiggled my bottom. I did all the appropriate things and made all the right noises, and they came from my true feelings. I was delirious with pleasure and I never wanted it to stop.
And that was when it did stop, of course. Bob pulled out and remained on his knees there, asking me to turn around and lie on my back. And then, he did the unexpected, really. He entered me again in the regular position and began too make love so beautifully. He held me tight and brought me to more wonderful climaxes, controlling my body with his magnetic attraction, his hypnotic pull. I knew then what the blonde girl on the floor was experiencing that night.
The most unexpected part was what he said. He was so tender and soft in his caresses, his voice was affectionate, more so than I had ever imagined was possible. I remember his words vividly.
“I want you to listen… Denise,” he told me with measured pauses that showed me the quality and degree of control he maintained over every organism in his body, “I may never tell you this… again. I love you. I love you… in a way that no other man ever has. I love you and you are mine…”
“Oh, Bob… I love you, Bob,” I told him with all the true feeling I had. “I don't want you to leave me… ever.”
“I will have to leave you… sometimes,” he told me, our bodies in such a beautiful motion, our organs thrilling each other so wonderfully with their friction. “You will remain mine and you will remain faithful. Do you understand?”
“Yes… yes-yes-yes!” I promised, knowing I would have promised anything at that moment.
“When I come,” he began again, pausing, “I am going to say some things you may not like. You must understand…”
We came together so beautifully that I could not understand what he said. I think he was so similarly affected that what he did say was an almost incoherent babble. But the word that stuck with me, although I was not sure that I heard it, was-“Kathy!”