PIT # 33: Lita
Points In Time
Elysium Fields
Topanga Canyon, California
Sunday June 7, 1986
2:15 p.m.
His eyes shifting from Morgan to Marsha. ‘yeah’…” and back to Morgan “...Marsha’n’me, we’ve come to an ‘understanding’.”
Truly a good guy. “Listen, I don’t want to come between…”
Sitting up, “Morgan…” taking his head in her hands “...you’re ‘not’ coming between Mitch and me…” looking directly into his eyes “...him and me should have come to an ‘understanding’ a long time ago.”
“Yeah, like thirty-one years ago.”
Looking from Marsha’s face to her breasts with their coarse, dark brown nipples. “Okay…” glancing at Mitchell “...if you’re ‘sure’!”
Said in unison. “We are!”
Standing. Taking Marsha’s hands and urging her to her feet, without asking, still hand in hand, Morgan let Marsha across the field to one of the ‘private’ rooms in the lodge.
Sitting up, Mitchell watched as Morgan and his wife angled across the field , walking to the Elysium lodge and one of the three ‘private rooms’ designated — as Gwen had said: ‘for when people become too hot, and need someplace private’.
Knowing he shouldn’t feel the sense of loss he felt. Knowing this is where both he and his wife had been heading, maybe for years. This is what both wanted: the freedom to do as they wished, with another man, with another woman, yet…
Mitchell watched as another man took his wife to a ‘private place’.
Sitting up also, Ken sat by his side. “Is this what you and Marcie want, Mitch?”
Silent, sighing. “Yeah. it’s what she wants… Wanted, in fact, for a long time.”
Both watched as Morgan and Marsha passed the communal shower stalls to enter the Elysium lodge.
“You two looked like an ‘okay’ couple to Sandy and me.”
Putting an arm across his shoulders, Sandy came to sit on the opposite side.
The group becoming close. Beyond sex, which had tended to act as an adhesive. The seven had become close friends and though subliminal in this case, Ken and Sandy were aware of a deep felt sadness and what would cause a definite change in the groups dynamic.
Not for the worse, though.
“Yeah...”rubbing the inside of Mitchell’s thigh “… Ken and I thought you and Marsha were, uh, ‘really’ close.” Thinking ‘Too close’, in fact. Because she had ‘wanted’ Mitchell since first meeting him about a month ago.
Feeling a need to explain the rapid approval of ‘literally’ giving his wife to anther man.
“Marsha ‘never’ Loved me. We had a ‘very’ long talk after we left Janice’s and she told me things about her and how she felt about me I’d never even guess.”
“You’ve been married ‘how’ long?”
Janice and Evie up also, all four sitting in a semicircle facing Mitchell.
Looking about. Here’s two ‘really’ good looking women that I’d— under normal circumstances would fuck in a second…
Omitting Evie Dorfman whom he’d found ‘nothing’ attractive about.
...And what’s more, I know they’d fuck me in a second, too… ‘Especially’ Sandy!
He’d known fro m the very minuet of meting her that she’d like nothing more than to fuck him… along with whatever else came with it.
Of course Mitchell had thought about fucking Janice because, though— though thinner than Marsha, Janice was too thin for his taste, however being as beautiful as she was, just looking at her face while…?
At about the age of nine learning that his dick ‘did’ have a mind of it’s own’, Mitchell knew it would still be looking for Janice’s missing tit and not come out of hiding.
While Sandy … On the ‘fleshy’ side, which did not bother him in the slightest, Sandy also had great tits.
He doesn’t know why he felt as depressed as he feels. It was all okay at Janice’s because... When Marsha fucked Morgan we were all stoned out of our minds then…
And now not feeling anywhere near as ambivalent as he had a half hour ago when he’d given Morgan the ‘It’s okay. Go! Go fuck my wife’ approval.
Possibly because their conversation on the night of the orgy, Was what it was, just conversation?
After leaving Janice’s, the ride home when Marsha had ‘opened’ up to him with her deeply hidden reasons for their marriage. Then the continuing ongoing conversation with Marsha telling ‘why’ sticking with their marriage for thirty-one years and ‘especially’ her ‘hatred’ of him. Her hatred from the time of ‘I do’ until now..
So now, ‘Fuck it’!
Wanting to show her. Wanting to take Sandy by the hand and lead ‘her’ across the field and, if available, use the room directly next to whatever room his wife and Morgan were using.
But thinking it too obviously a ploy that he knew Sandy would — possibly happily go along with, but thought it a really crappy situation to coax Sandy into… So didn’t.
Marsha, on the other hand, felt absolutely ‘no’ ambivalence over leaving her husband to watch herself and Morgan — whom she considered to be the first ‘real’ man she’d fucked since the last time with Stan Jacobson in December of 1955.
Marsha felt no compunction... none at all at leaving her husband to watch as she and Morgan walked across the field… To go to one of the ‘private places’.
Stretching to his right, opening the ice chest, Mitchell hoisted
the now ‘absolutely’ half empty bottle of wine and taking a cup, any cup that was laying unused on the blanket, filled it and drank deeply.
3:03 p.m.
Near an hour before Marsha and Morgan rounded the communal shower stalls to make their way across the field to the blankets.
To say something smart or clever or facetiously? Or to just ignore it. To just let it go.
His wife being a master of quick nasty retorts and viscous ‘come backs’…. More often than not when neither nasty retort nor viscous come back was required….
Fuck her!
Motioning with a plastic coffee cup. “Wine?”
Sitting about four feet from and directly before Mitchell, her legs cocked and very noticeably spread. “Yeah, Morgan, thanks.”
A few things regarding Marsha Lipensky. Marsha was a really good mother… A very clean, really neat housekeeper, and there was always a meal ready for her family, and lately for her husband.
Crystallized substance of dried semen clinging to the short hair along the underside of Marsha’s vagina.
On purpose? By accident…. Being a very neat person, the husband could only deduct that Morgan’s dry semen was left on display for him.
Anger. Words of condemnation? No! ‘Ambulance’.
Said ‘matter of factually’.“Glad you had a good time, baby.” Actually sounding sincere…
Which rather threw Marsha off.
Deciding to purposely ignore the dry semen display. Wiggling his way to the edge of the blanket — A beautiful eighty-three degree, Southern California day with a slight ongoing breeze, Mitchell lay front side up in the dry heat of the July sun.
Expecting some smart-ass comment from her husband, receiving none, Marsha accepted the cup of wine give her by Morgan.
Evie and Janice, in close contact. Ken and Sandy , in not so close contact, lying in pairs on two blankets.
Rather expecting someone to say something about the near hour spent in a ‘privet room’ with another man’s wife — even if given one hundred percent permission by the lady’s husband, though...
Evie and Janice, Ken and Sandy feeling a bit conspicuous for having ‘nothing’ to say, saying nothing lay within shade or sun.
Becoming bored now sitting facing no one, Marsha scooted to Morgan and again laid her head onto his naked lap.
3:38 p.m.
Pulling himself to his feet. “I’m going for a swim.”
“Hold on, Mitch…” lifting herself “...I’ll keep you company.”
“Me, too, Sandy; may as well join you.” Draining the coffee cup, Marsha got to her feet. Reaching to Morgan. “You want to?”
“Nah, later maybe.”
Walking from the western end of the field, with Mitchell alongside Sandy and Marsha on the outside alongside Sandy causing Marsha to realise, He’s really not with me. Which did not make her too unhappy.
The girls taking the three steps into the shallow end, Mitchell walked to the deep end, dove in and swam underwater to Sandy where, when surfacing, coming up he kissed a hanging breast licking water off the puckered nipple.. Which, surprisingly, causedd a minor quake in Marsha's stomach. Then swam back to the deep end where he remained in the water, his elbows onto the coping holding him steady…
Still feeling depressed... “Hi!” His depression instantly dissipating as, surprised to see her, happy to see her, Mitchell waved to the black woman as she waded into the water, then swam to him.
“Mitch…” treading water immediately before him “... I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Me, too, Lita.” Holding on with one arm, the other circling Lita’s waist… drawing her near and without the slightest hesitation, the two kissed.
Marsha’s eyes near popping from their sockets, amazing both women on the far end of the pool, whom had noticed the beautiful, middle-aged black lady as she’d entered the water.
“I was so embarrassed when I thought about it.” she said “...I was so sorry for the way I left last time.”
“Me, too!”
“No! When I thought about it, you were being a ‘really’ nice guy and I guessed I’m just not used to nice guys any more”
“Always been a problem of mine, being a ‘nice guy’.”
This was true as Mitchell ‘never’ pushed himself when it came to relations with girls, then, until marrying Marsha, women. ‘No!’ was always ‘No!’
“You here by yourself today?”
“Yes. You?”
“No…” gesturing to the shallow end “...that’s my wife there.”
“The taller one?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s very pretty.”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
“She don’t mind me kissing you?”
“ ‘No’…” chuckling “...Marsha and me have come to an agreement, and it’s probably the other one that’ll mind you kissing me.”
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?”
“You have no idea. But I think you're going to find out. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Swimming, then wading to Marsha ad Sandy.
Water streaming in silver rivulets against her black skin…
Shaking her head, her hair immediately falling into tight ringlets.
“Sandy, this is Lita,”
“Hello!” Taking Sandy’s hand in a quick female version of a ‘shake’.
“And this is my wife, Marsha.”
Marsha’s eyes half closed in question: How’s he know this person good enough to kiss, in public. Forgetting they were in a nudest park where every thing was ‘in public’. But remembering that he had been here three times before talking her into coming.
“Hello, Lita…” not too sincerely said “... nice me...”
Shocked when Lita— bussing it lightly, pressing her cheek to hers. “You’ve got a ‘really’ good guy there, you know?”
“If you say so!”
“Lita…” Mitchell asked “...you here aloe?”
Forming an instant dislike for Marsha.
“Yes, actually I am.”
“Come on! Join us!”
“Thank you.” Noting the sour look on Marsha’s face. “I’d ‘love’ to!”
Next PIT #34: A New Member
