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Des Plaines, Illinois

December 31, 1961: A Really Happy New Year!

“No, Mitchie, don’t move!”

                                                                                earlier

Running across the sidewalk every half hour or so to check on their sleeping children, Marsha and Mitchell had been invited to attend the New Year’s Eve party at the home of neighbors, Ray and Martha Neumann along with Dave and Jennifer Forman, plus friends of the Neumann’s: Hal and Shirley Steinway.

As the night wore on and liquor bottles emptied, Dave suggested, if no one objected, to welcoming in the New Year by watching some of Ray’s 8mm stag films.

And as no-­one there was feeling any pain, the suggestion was heartily approved by the Neumann’s, Steinways and Jennifer Forman.

Having had one more than his usual three drinks, Mitchell, of course, well knew what stag films were and, never objecting to getting horny, although having no idea what Marsha’s reaction might be to pornography, Mitchell also, very heartily agreed.

Marsha Lipensky—having two more than her usual quota of no drinks—whispered into Mitchell’s ear, “Dirty movies?”

“Yeah,” Mitchell whispered back. “Very dirty movies.”

And pleasantly, very pleasantly surprising him…

“Yeah,” Marsha said aloud, actually surprising the Neumanns, Formans and Steinways, “I wann’a watch dirty movies!”

                                                                             ****

After briefly stopping the projector to—the women looking to see who had a boner—sloppily kiss and wish each other “Happy New Year!” drinks were refreshed and two more “dirty” movies were shown.

In the darkened room, sitting very close to his wife, feeling her squirming and hearing the change in her breathing as she watched the figures on the five ­by ­five movie screen, “Marcie,” Mitchell whispered, “I’m getting really anxious to get home. How’s ’bout you?”

“Yeah, baby!” Putting her hand behind his head, hungrily drawing his mouth onto hers and her tongue into his, doing something that further, really surprised him, wrapping her hand around his straining penis, breaking the very passionate kiss, licking the inside of his ear, “I wann’a fuck!” she whispered —she thought she whispered.

Standing, “Hey,” Mitchell said, “Marsha’n’me, we gotta go check the kids…

“No, no!” he said quickly as Ray began to stand. “Keep the movie going. We know the way out. Thanks for the party!”

After a fast check on Mikey and Ellie, no sooner was the door to their bedroom closed than her arms were about his neck, her pelvis pushed onto his, the rear of her skirt up, his hand beneath the band of her undies, cuddling a cool, bare buttock…

Two drinks and three fifteen ­minute stag films bringing about a very different Marsha. “Mitchie, fuck me, baby!”

Four drinks and three fifteen ­minute stag films bringing about a very pleasantly surprised, very true ­ to form Mitchell. “Yeah, baby!” he said. “Let’s get naked!”

Clothing off within seconds…

Forgoing foreplay, “No, Mitchie, fuck me!” Pushing him onto his back, straddling his hips, his penis—finding its way with no help—implanted deeply into her sopping vagina, her dark, hardened nipples brushing his mouth…

Kissing her dangling breasts, his hands onto her pumping buttocks, “Marcie, we need a rubber.”

Her eyes shut…

“No, Mitchie, don’t move!”

Feeling them! Once again in this position, for only the second time in all the years of their marriage, Mitchell felt the slight tic deep within the vagina of his wife that signaled her orgasm…

Which triggered his.

Elysium Fields 26: Orgy 2

Topanga Canyon, California

 Saturday, May 17, 1986

 5:36 PM

Stranding stock still, Marsha’s eyes traversed the huge Jacuzzi, along with the men and woman: some standing apart, most standing closely together… some standing very closely together… some standing very closely together in…? not too discrete positions. A man and woman in a corner were standing front to back with her head resting upon her arm with her arm resting upon the corner coping as the man, very closely behind her… unable to see beneath the water, the man behind her was…?

Watching…

Impassioned…

This woman that could not show, simply could not show sexual emotion, now…

Having no idea why; possibly a dormant, prurient gene from her mother which, possibly, might explain Marsha’s rapid acclimation to Elysium and her lack of modesty…No! At her absolute enjoyment at being nude amongst strangers and seeing strangers, especially men strangers’ nude. No less surprised at her fervent emotions now at seeing a, possible, act of fornication as she was at seeing Ray Neumann’s 8mm stag films way back in 1961 when, all but dragging Mitchell from the home of Ray and Martha Neumann, she could barely wait to have intercourse with her husband.

Feeling Marsha’s hand tighten about his…

Moving forward, Marsha led Mitchell down the three narrow steps into the hot, chest high, foaming, bubbling water.

Standing in a semicircle, Evie and Morgan were holding hands; Kenneth and Sandy each had an arm about the other’s waist. Roughly completing the circle, Marsha standing alongside of Evie and Mitchell between and slightly behind his wife and Sandy.

Eyes closed, standing quietly with whatever lustful thoughts they may have, the six friends savored the hot, amorously bubbling water and the erotically stimulating presence of those they know, and those they do not know.

Mitchell, his left arm submerged and out of sight, is softly manipulating the flesh of Marsha’s somewhat  hard right buttock, while his right hand – his brain telling him, ‘no, don’t do it’ ­­­­­­­­–  was caressing the much softer flesh of Sandy’s left buttock.

A hand… not sure if the hand is the hand of his wife –standing to his left – or if the hand is the hand of Sandy –  standing to his right – however, in either case, lost in the fantasy of being held… of his rigid, fully erected penis now being manipulated by…?

Fantasy: two women, which woman?

 If the hand holding me is touched by the hand wanting to hold me…? Anger? Embarrassment?  

Fantasy: two women, which woman?

 Mitchell’s eyes closed, his harsh breathing covered by the sound of the multitude of rushing Jacuzzi jets, the murmur of nearly twenty-four people and the seething, foamy water…

Wondering if his semen will dissolve in the hot water or float to the top?

It dissolved.

                                                                               end

©September 11, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman