The Juliette Society (15 page)

I turn away and I see Anna again – the real Anna – crouching naked on a platform in front of her video image. She’s a star of stage and screen. And the reason I didn’t see her at first is that she’s surrounded by a swarm of guys, all trying to get near her like autograph hunters crowding an ingénue at her first big movie premiere. Instead of offering her paper and pen, they’re waving their cocks in her face as she grabs at them, making sure that all of them get what they came for and none of them are disappointed.

Anna’s body glistens with sweat and come. Her face is radiant and alive. She has that look on her face again, the one I saw in the video of her with the drilldo, that same look of ecstatic pleasure.

I’m standing there, taking all this in, and it’s one thing to see this stuff on video. It’s something else entirely to see it in front of your eyes; you’re watching this happening to your best friend and it’s like you’re watching it happen to yourself.

That’s what I think of when I see Anna hemmed in by all these frenzied horny guys, stripped of her clothes, her defenses, her boundaries. I recognize myself. Anna looks so comfortable and relaxed, without a care in the world, entirely assured of herself and her body, her capabilities. In the midst of chaos but completely in control. And getting off from it. I’m getting turned on just from watching her. I finally realize that’s where I want to be too, that from here on in, nothing will ever be the same. I’ll never be the same again. I’ve finally crossed over.

13

In my dreams, I was brave. In my dreams, I replay what happened all over again. And I don’t run away. I stay exactly where I am, rooted to the spot, my ass wedged against that shelf, my legs wrapped around his waist, and I let him take me.

I let him take me while the others wait their turn. I watch them spit on their hands and stroke their cocks, watching me, as they edge closer and closer.

And I feel like a race queen, in the pit, surrounded by grease monkeys stripped to the waist, fingering dirty wrenches that glisten with oil. The roar of revving engines fills my ears. I’m dizzy and intoxicated by the fumes. I am ready to be consumed by their lust.

And, pretty soon, they decide with their hive mind that they don’t want to wait any longer, and they all advance towards me at once, swooping around me. A wall of men, crazed, unstoppable, all demanding attention. Pecking at me with their peckers. All of a sudden, I’ve got more cocks than I can handle. More than I really know what to do with. And I’m overwhelmed, but so, so turned on.

This is what I’ve come to realize:

In my dreams, I’m more like Anna.

Willing.

I wish could be more like Anna.

Voracious.

And, from this point on, I determine to be more like Anna.

Free.

Two days later, Jack comes home to pick up a fresh set of clothes. He’s been gone for such a short time but it already feels like everything’s changed and a stranger walked into the apartment. He’s frosty. I don’t know how to break the thaw. And I keep my distance because I don’t want to antagonize him. He’s in and out within half an hour.

We barely talk. Or rather, he makes it clear he doesn’t want to talk to me, other than to tell me he’s heading right off for another week-long trip, all the way to the other side of the state to help set up an important campaign stop for Bob. Some backwater town where poverty is the norm, voter registration is low, and Bob needs to get the word out for every vote that he can get. A place he needs to make a point of visiting to show that he cares. When the irony is it’s the kind of place a politician will only ever go when they care about needing your vote. And you’ll never see them again until the next time they’re up for re-election. And, as far as I’m concerned, Bob’s not much different.

No matter how much Jack looks up to Bob, no matter how successful Bob is, no matter how much he represents ‘new’ politics and rails against the old, he has to play the game like all the rest of them, in exactly the same way as it’s always been played. Because the rules were set in motion such a long, long time ago that they might as well be set in stone.

If you’re ambitious and determined, like Bob, you might get away with bending them a little, or you might get away with bending them a lot. But no one politician is ever going to change the rules for fear of upsetting the apple cart or collapsing the whole deck of cards, because then it’s every man for himself. That’s a losing game for everyone. Because politics is all about advantage.

This is where Jack and I differ.

When it comes to politics, he’s an idealist. I’m a realist.

In real life, he’s a pragmatist. I’m a fantasist.

They say opposites attract. But, right now, that feels like the very reason why we’re poles apart.

And I’ve been compensating for my frustration by hanging out with Anna, which isn’t helping, because I know Jack doesn’t approve, even though that too remains unspoken. I know he doesn’t like how quickly I’ve become close to Anna. And it’s compounded by the fact that he knows he can never be a part of the intimacy we share.

It’s not because he doesn’t like her. I know he does. I think Jack, like every other man who’s met Anna, secretly wants to fuck her. And I don’t blame him, because if I was Jack, I’d want to fuck her too. If he was curious and told me that’s what he wanted, I wouldn’t kick up a fuss, I wouldn’t stop him. I’d encourage it.

And I’d want to watch.

I’d want to watch how Anna seduces a man with her body. My man.

I’d want to watch how Jack fucks her. So I can be an outside observer onto my own sex life.

I already know what it feels like to be fucked by Jack. Now I just want to see it. I want visual proof of how it feels.

I can see them together now. Alone. Naked. In our bedroom, mine and Jack’s. And I can feel Jack’s nervousness, because he’s never been with anyone like Anna. Someone so self-possessed and sure of her body and the power it holds. He’s never been with anyone so confident of their sexuality.

And I guess that anyone is me, but it’s not like I’m some naïf when it comes to sex. When I look at a penis, I know which way is up. I know which way to hold it, what to do with it and what comes out the end. I know Jack’s body inside and out. Every millimeter, every crease and fold. I know what he likes and exactly which buttons to press, and when, to make him feel good. But I still think I’ve got so much to learn and I can learn it all from Anna, by watching her every move.

Jack is lying on the bed, on his back. He’s already hard, as always, and his whole body is rigid and tense, not just with the anticipation of being with Anna, but because he’s shy and embarrassed.

Anna is crawling over Jack, the way I sometimes imagine Marcus crawling over me. She straddles his legs and leans forward, putting one hand on Jack’s chest to steady herself, then makes a show of licking the index and middle finger of the other, and rubbing them between her legs to lubricate herself, while looking Jack right in the eye.

She puts both hands on his chest, rises herself up and shifts forward, sliding her pussy up along the shaft of his cock, then slowly back and forth a few times, until the lips part and his cock settles into the groove and soon becomes slick with her juice.

She slides forward until she finds the spot where the ridge of the head of his cock meets the hood of her clit and she quickens her movements so she can get herself off too while she’s doing the same for him. She presses down on Jack’s cock and swivels her hips in a circular motion, grinding hard against it. He can hear her exhale and let out a series of quick little moans. He can feel Anna getting wetter and wetter. Her juice is collecting at the base of his cock, spilling over his balls, running down between his thighs.

She leans down, puts a hand on his cheek and plants a kiss on his lips, slides her hand down his neck and a nail down his chest. Her caresses are so delicate, so sincere in their devotion, that she soon dissolves his anxiety and makes him feel at ease. And the dynamic between them starts to change. I can see Jack return to himself. His boldness and his decisiveness, two of the qualities about him that really turn me on, make themselves felt in the way he touches her, the way he maneuvers her into precisely the position he wants her in, so that he can take control.

I’m watching them and it’s as if I’m some omniscient observer because I can see them fucking from every single angle simultaneously. I’m inside the action – present within each of their bodies, feeling everything they feel, switching between them at will – and outside of them at the same time.

And now Anna is bent over on the bed and Jack is standing on the floor, riding her from behind. He has her hair all bunched up in his left hand, the way an expert rider holds the reins of a horse as it prepares to incite it from a trot into a gallop – tight, in one hand, with a crop ready in the other.

Jack is pulling Anna’s hair so hard that it’s taut against her skull, as if she’s scraped it all back into a ponytail, her head is locked in an upright posture and her spine is bent back and arched into an impossibly perfect J-curve. He’s slapping her ass in broad, sweeping, powerful strokes that crack like the snap of a wet towel in a men’s locker room.

I can see her ass flush and redden as his hand moves away, swinging back in preparation to land another. I can see her ass ripple as he slams into her. And his balls, wet and sticky with his sweat and her juice, are slapping against Anna’s clit, which is large and swollen. His steady pounding is so hard and precise that she’s mewing like a bird in distress.

Jack has this expression on his face that I’ve never seen before, of pure concentration and unswerving determination, like he’s set on riding Anna into the ground. Like he wants to fuck her until her body gives in and collapses underneath him.

Even then, he will continue to pound away, with no let-up and no mercy, until her body is prostrate and completely still. And only then will he withdraw his hard cock, wet and quivering and triumphant, and start to jerk himself off, sliding the skin back and forth across the shaft, slamming his fist hard into his balls.

I’ve never seen Jack like this. I’ve never seen him so dirty, so animalistic and predatory. He’s fucking Anna in a way that he’s never fucked me, as if she’s unlocked some part of him that was locked up deep inside – the way she helped unlock part of me.

And now I’ve seen all I want to see. I’ve had enough of just watching. Now I want to join in.

I can see myself there with them. And this isn’t like the three-way you’d see in a porno, the typical bullshit male fantasy, where the super-stud with the magnificently tooled penis and a tongue like Gene Simmons is somehow satisfying two women at once, like a circus strongman who can hold up two girls, one sitting on each bicep. Or its equally ludicrous opposite, where two hyper-sexed succubi set upon a guy, overwhelm him, smother him, fuck him into submission and steal his essence.

No, this is different. This goes beyond the cliché. This is real.

I see myself with Jack and Anna and we’ve formed a perfect circle.

We’re all lying on our sides with our heads buried in each other’s crotches. I’m sucking Jack’s cock, while he eats out Anna’s pussy and she’s eating mine. We all have a taste of each other. We’re all giving and receiving. We’re like the snake that eats its own tail.

When Jack moves his mouth up to Anna’s asshole and starts finger-fucking her pussy, I hear her moan as she momentarily detaches from mine, then instinctively follows suit and does the same to me. I can feel Anna’s tongue slowly probing around my hole – licking it, testing it and then plunging inside, while her thin, flexible fingers are pumping my pussy with the speed of a piston to a completely different rhythm.

It’s like that trick you learn as a kid, when you rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time and try and keep them both going. And the way you do it is to forget what you’re doing, move your limbs independently and instinctively. And that’s how it is with sex too. Good sex. Your body moves in perpetual motion, your mind completely relaxes, gives up control and takes it all in.

Whatever Anna’s doing to me, it feels so good, that I feel myself shifting position to do the same to Jack. I’m tonguing his butthole, which is something I’ve never done before because boys, especially the quietly macho ones like Jack, have a thing about being touched back there.

But I’m tonguing it now and he’s not complaining. I can hear him moan; quietly, as if he doesn’t want Anna and me to hear – but I do. And I start pulling back and forth along his shaft, giving his foreskin a little twist as I do, and then he can’t contain himself, and he lets go, moaning a little louder.

We are three bodies melting into one. Free of ego, personalities dissolved. There is no distinction between Jack and Catherine and Anna. There is no male or female. We are one person, one sex. Fucking like a machine. Moving in sync. Breathing in rhythm. Moaning in harmony. In perfect tune.

When we come, we all come together, we all explode together.

And I more than get my wish.