GRAHAM ORGY
The doorman announced "Graham? Apartment 6E" even before we opened our mouths, and we got there to ring, smelling pot in the hallway, and entered to find wall-to-wall sheets and bodies in the living room, with many taking their clothes off in the raised dining area, and the bedroom was already crowded, too, as I saw when I went to the john. To the kitchen for a beer and attracted to the muscled but too-pretty-faced boy whom Bill G. seemed to consider a special guest, and I sat in the corner of the living room with my beer, looking across at him when he sat in the chair, but he was then taken by a fat hairy fellow who immediately stuck his head into his crotch. There were cuties sitting on the sofa next to me, and I looked at them, but they moved away, except for one fellow with a mustache who seemed rather more shy than most. He'd get involved briefly with someone in the corner, then move away in front of me, semi-erect cock pointing at me provocatively, and when he came past the third time I reached out for him, and stood up to start necking with him, and came up quite strongly when I felt him harden in my grasp, and then he went down on me to moisten me up, and I went down on him to feel his gratifying stiffness, balls tight up against the lingam, and we kissed more and more deeply, rubbing each other back and forth, and finally he drew back toward the sofa, and we sat down and caressed each other very nicely, even when I chose not to examine too closely his remark, "Oh, you're so HANDLABLE," when he was gripping my side and my rear. He again warned me about his closeness to coming, but I kept gently at him, hoping to drive him out of his mind with desire, which would serve to drive ME out of MY mind, also, since his hand was wonderful on my throbbing cock, but he started to gasp and pushed my head down to his stiffness and I sucked him in just as he thrust into my mouth a full, rippling load of come, which flowed again and again as I clasped and drew, and he threw himself around on the sofa, coughing with ecstasy, until finally he forced my head away, saying that the tickling was too much for him to bear, and we sat and looked and kissed, and I went down in sympathy to his coming, and he tried to get me back up, but it didn't seem to be working, and then I started getting self-conscious. He asked if I lived alone, and I found it simpler to lie, saying no, I didn't, and he regretted that, and I left it go at that, leaving him after a bit to see what was going on in the bedroom. Everything was going on in the bedroom, and everyone was involved in it, even to someone whacking away on what seemed like plastic sheets, fucking someone for all both of them were worth, while the crowd gathered around, feeling themselves, doing and screwing and masturbating in time with the rhythm of the mighty fuck. It was a bit too much, so I was out into the living room again, this time to see a corner free, and sitting down, the fat fuzzy guy latched onto the lovely blond-haired, black-bearded fellow sitting next to me, and I figured since his cock was occupied, why not take his top, and I started necking with him, and magically the other fellow was gone, and we two had a lovely session right there in the living room, handling each other, me squirming out of the way when he tried to oil up my anus, and finally I went down on him when he pressed me to but he didn't seem ready to come, so I went back up, and I started getting hard again, and went down on his curved cock again, playing with the tiny balls that paled to insignificance beside the enormous band of flaring tissue between the ass and the base of the cock, and he thrust again and again into my mouth as I gagged and belched up beer, but finally he came, and I could feel him coming in my mouth as I pumped back and forth with my lips and hands, and then he was finished and we lay on top of each other, kissing lightly, and I said he was great, and I never even asked his name, and talked to him only much later, when I was leaving, and I saw him standing in the doorway, very surprised to see this small head atop a six-foot frame, and I said I'd thought he was shorter, but he smiled and we kissed and that was our contribution to everyone else's edification. Back into the bedroom, but I just didn't seem to get turned on by that intense a scene. Fucking galore, plus rather attractive bodies just jerking off, but my fantasy of everyone just standing around looking at everyone else naturally didn't come off, and I tried a few things, including Bill G.'s enormous cock, but I went down on him and he practically raped me, and when I wasn't terribly engulfing of his huge dick, he went semi-soft, and I simply pulled away, only just barely stopping myself from verbally apologizing for tackling something I certainly couldn't handle. There was an oriental who seemed interested in necking, and we tried it for a bit, but I just didn't come up. Watched the blond blissfully fuck the tall fellow I tried it with before, and Joe was there with his lovely body, and he and the very short guy made it for a bit, but everyone was watching and they stopped. An older fellow with an enormous uncut cock attracted my attention, but he practically jerked himself off into someone else's mouth, so that when I finally got hold of him, his foreskin had slid back up around his slippery head, and I just mushed it around for a bit and left for greener fields. Back into the living room, but nothing was doing there, and most people were talking now that they'd come three or four times, and I went back into the bedroom, contemplating jerking off and letting ANYONE take it, but settled down in the chair in the corner of the room, watching, and sadly the area nearest me cleared out, and I took the hint and went back into the living room where John had made some inroads into a twosome who lived together, and I said we should get together, so John gave them his address and phone number, and then started playing 69 with one fellow right there on the floor. I said goodbye to David, the doll with the mustache, asking "Having you found what you were looking for?" and he flatteringly responded, "Yes, you," and we kissed again while he was waiting to get into the john. There weren't the TERRIBLY spectacular guys for everyone to circle around there, but I figure I did my share of the next layer, though I would have liked very much to have come myself, and wished that I could only RESTRAIN my gripping paw from some of the first ones I'm with so that they can bring ME off, with them, and I'd feel nicer. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 3/29/71).
DON S.'S I ORGY
Pull up on the warehouse-lined street where Don S. lives, and John ducks below the windshield level to smoke the two joints he rolled at my place, taking with glee to my idea of using the tines of a plastic fork as a cigarette holder. Solitary guys, looking foolishly guilty, enter the building, and a car parks behind us while three or four guys laugh as they go upstairs, and John had said that the group was devastating, but they looked in general even older than the somewhat elderly crowd that seems to be the mainstay of Tsi-Dun. Then four others came walking down the street, one shirtless with his denim jacket open to the cool breezes on his pallid hairless chest, and John was turned on immediately. Out of the car, leaving all wallets and watches under the seat, and up past the landing for "Gloria Leather," which John said was a great name for someone, and up to the third floor, to a crowded kitchen where I search for a table on which to put the six beers we brought, and Don S. is a tiny round gray-haloed man with a frog-face and smiling eyes whom John was RIGHT to prejudge I wouldn't care for, particularly later when he padded around wearing nothing but a yellow polo shirt over his floppy pudenda, closely observing everything that was happening. Take my shoes off and leave them in the kitchen, since others seem to be doing that, and into an enormous showroom area with dirty drapes partially drawn across the front windows, all the furniture pushed against the walls, and there was a line of straight-back chairs alone one wall, and John sat down on one of these and talked with a tall black haired guy with a very SHORT face and extremely widely spaced dark eyes which only just escaped being grotesque because of their spacing, and I looked warmly on a few cuties who were looking through magazines in the little alcove just off the doorway to the showroom, but there seemed to be no room to sit there, and I went against the other wall, where four or five fellows sat on the sofa: the group with the open-jacketed one sat talking among themselves, and I sat against the wall, aside the sofa, waiting for more people to fill the place up, and then no one would have to be alone. Others filtered into the room, including Peter C., or whoever the short fellow is who always cruises me at Tsi-Dun, and other older fellows, and it didn't seem that this was going to be a very sexy group. After a number of minutes Don came over to draw the drapes completely shut, and someone else set up a movie screen along that wall, so I got up and moved with the rest of the group to the area closest the kitchen, where everyone sat and lounged around awkwardly with their clothes on. A couple of cute guys were visible, but they seemed either excessively self-conscious of their appeal, or were gabbing among themselves. Peter C. sat very close to me, as if taking aim at me, and John was behind me, and from the sound it seemed that he might be starting something, but when I looked around he wasn't. A film came on that Don dryly announced starred two hustlers, but they didn't make them like that before: two groovy humpy numbers who obviously turned each other on started kissing and fucking and sucking to everyone's delight, and I could feel pelvic stirrings and was sorry I didn't have my clothes off. There were various suggestions made for the title to the epic, but it ended rather sadly with the cute little one jerking himself off faster than the eye could follow, and the larger one fucking him until just before orgasm, then pulling out to show the spastic squirts of curdled fluid on the small one's back. "Now you have to furnish your own entertainment," said Don when the screen flicked into blackness, and everyone silently and self-consciously moved away from the area, and I sat, thinking to stay where the cuties were, but everyone moved away and started undressing, and I thought it would be better to strip and get it over with, so I disrobed and started casing the joint. A half-dozen were going at it hot and heavy on the sofa, and I rather suspected John was in the middle of that. I wandered around the knots of people, looking here, stroking there, but all the cute ones seemed taken already, and others who weren't taken didn't seem to be interested in my particular body, and it was a number of minutes before I encountered the wide-eyed guy with whom John was talking, and he looked much better even out of his tight jeans, because his chest was high and nicely muscled, and it dropped to a very trim torso and narrow hips, but there was a nice meaty cock standing straight up into the room, and I took hold of it and played with it while we kissed a bit, and the tenseness of his cock and the loveliness of his balls made me slide down his chest and stomach and take his cock into my mouth. He groaned forward into me, and I reached around corded thighs to feel the solid ass and slim back, and rubbed up and down his body, getting hard myself, delighting in the pleasures of his pleasure. Back to my feet and used my wetness to rub him around, but he didn't seem that interested in necking, so I was back to my knees and doing him, faster and faster, and he got rock hard and started thrusting way back into my throat, so that just as I thought I couldn't stand it anymore without choking, he pushed my head more firmly down, sinking my lips to the base of his cock, his head rammed down my throat, and I could feel the throbs of orgasm, and I squeezed his balls and withdrew so that I could take a breath, then started to play with him, but he firmly prevented me, saying "Stop," and I stood up to try to neck with him, but he said that he had to go sit down. It was nice while it lasted. I went back to the corner near the kitchen to see what was going on there, and there was a fairly young fellow with thinning hair who looked appealing, and I used my hand on him as he looked me avidly in the eyes and necked with me, going down on me for a bit while I got semi-hard, and we stood, panting, jerking each other with our hands, his eyes rolling up and about in his head, his hand stopping mine every so often, and then, after shaking his head a few times, stopping, heart pounding, to try to keep from coming, but he shot into my hand, and I wrung his cock harder and harder as he moaned louder and more enjoyably, and he clung to me, shaking, as I extracted his sperm from his cock, and he broke away, saying he couldn't stand it anymore, while I wiped his copious come on my thigh and went looking for someone else. There were a number of muscle-builders there, and I enjoyed watching them strain their chests and arms as someone went down on them, and I tried vainly to interest one beautiful guy in me, and I kept caressing his large tits, narrow waist, buxom ass, fabulous thighs, small cock, nice face and hair, but he wasn't interested in necking, only in pulling on his own putz, or necking with someone as muscular as he was. I tried him a few times and then moved away when I was obviously turning him off, making him move away from someone he would have liked to have been with had I not been there. Went out for a beer and came back to sit on a chair for a bit, and then wanted to get back into it, so I did. Tried necking a few times with someone who was interested in me, but not I in them, and quickly left them for someone else. Then I noticed some guy sitting in a chair in the corner, enormous chest and arms, playing with himself, and I went over and tired to neck with him or bite his tits, but he could only push my head away and down to his crotch. He was spread-eagled in the chair, and around the base of his cock was a metal ring somewhere between one and a half and two inches in diameter, and springing from this ring was a long floppy sausage of a cock which I took into my mouth to feel it grow somewhat harder until it must have been at least ten inches, and not yet hard, and in addition it had a very strange welt of flesh down one side, like an enormously ruptured vein in the side of his cock, or a flap left from a truly butcherous circumcision. I couldn't draw back to see what it was, since his hands kept my head going down on his cock, but it as so enormous I couldn't take it, gagging and choking in my throat, trying to use one hand and then two hands to fend off the length from my sore jaws. Finally, tears in my eyes, I got up from in front of him, reluctantly, but I had to. Some smaller fellow was busily doing someone else enormous nearby, and when he saw what I left free, he immediately went down on it, and the fellow writhed back and forth in the chair most attractively: putting his enormous biceps up beside his head, raising the meaty fold of muscle over his shoulders into graceful shapes in the air, showing the tiny shining tits clearly defined on the white expanse of his chest. Someone who was sitting in the next chair reached over to try for necking, but he would have none of it (I asked Marvin about him later, and he said, "Oh, that was Rory, yeah, he's enormous"), so the fellow went awkwardly down to his chest, and I bent over and ran my hands up and down his chest and up his arms, feeling the sweat moving on his body. I was sweating, too, copiously from the crowd and the heat from somewhere, so that when, finally, the kid on the floor had to give up on Rory, after taking a couple snorts of the popper that Rory served him, the big guy standing, the fellow in the next chair, and I thought pointedly NOT to me, and I moved away from the hot corner, I could feel the drops coursing down my back, and I went back into the kitchen to try to cool off. There were people there too, coming and undressing, dressing and going, and Don was busy taking names and addresses and exhorting people to volunteer for his films: "I'm good at disguising faces, you know." Talked to a few people, took another beer, and went back into the living room in time to see a shortish muscle-builder straining over someone doing him, and I went up behind him, caressing his body, permitting him to lean back on me, pelvis thrust out to the grasping lips, hands flailing the air in his efforts to come, and I enjoyed the feel of this body surging toward orgasm, abandoned in my arms, running my hands up and down his ripply abdomen, down to the moist bed of hairs from which grew two balls and two lips, and up to the shelf of chest and ligaments of the shoulders and arms and neck, and he moved up and down on my body, and people gathered around to watch, and finally he gasped into orgasm, and I squeezed and palmed his tits, and he seemed to enjoy the whole scene immensely. Then I sat down in a chair and watched for awhile, and a few came over and tried to do something with me, and I tried catching the eye of a few of the more beautiful ones, but there was no contact possible. Out to the john off the kitchen, and a new, late entry, a large beautiful black named Bob B. entered with his bright eyes and trimmed afro, and we looked at each other as he undressed, and I marveled at the colors of his beautiful body and the curves of his muscles: he must have been a dancer to have such well shaped legs. We chatted briefly in the kitchen and I went back into the living room, and he came through the passageway and was immediately surrounded by two or three of the older types, fawning, kissing, sucking on his lengthening cock. I didn't find anyone currently active to compete with him, so I went over and joined the growing crowd around him, and reached from behind to caress his chest and shoulders, and he turned around, leaving his cock wherever it was, to smile and kiss me back, and little by little the crowd dwindled until I was standing in the middle of the floor alone with him, feeling the enormous cock growing harder and harder in my hand. He was uncut, and the long pulls of supple flesh over the thick cock were too much for my lips to resist, and I went down on him to find that though his head was of a manageable size, the thickness of his cock swelled to a maximum about halfway to the fuzzy base of it, and I had more trouble getting past this swelling than past the rim of the head. He seemed to like my mouth down there, and pushed my head into his crotch with clenched hands at the back of my neck, whispering "Baby, baby" above my head. My hands went up and down his slender legs and around his tiny ass and up his corded back, and around in front to feel the prominent pectorals and ripply washboard of abdominals, then down to feel the wrinkled pods of nuts tight against his scrotum, and the base of his cock, wet now with my drippy saliva, and my jaw yawned wider to attempt not scratching him with the cusps of my molars. After one or two rams into my throat, I felt that I was going to vomit, and pulled him out, and in a frenzy he got down on the floor, me on top of him, and we curled around each other as my fist tightened around his cock to permit myself some breathing space. His cock so completely filled my mouth and throat that when he was rammed in there was not a whisper of air passage on any side, and he rammed it further and further down my throat, groaning and twisting on the floor, and I got more and more uncomfortable. As I did him more effectively, he grew even more in length and girth, and there was absolutely no possibility of my not nipping him with my teeth: I might open my mouth wider, but the distance laterally between the closest points of my back molars was not to be lengthened, and he simply did not fit into that space, with the result that I'm sure he has grooves eaten into his meatus by my teeth. I could feel the entire hardness of his head moving past my uvula, sliming off the back of my throat, and curving down my esophagus, and my stomach heaved mightily and I could feel curdled liquids rushing up from my gullet, and felt thankful that his cock bunged my mouth so tightly that nothing could ooze out past his invading flesh. Again and again my stomach contorted, and I writhed around the point of pain in my throat and swallowed down as well as I could, finally having to back off his thrusting cock to swallow down, snuffle back the fluids that had run into my nose, and I smelled a strange vitamin-filled smell of the gelatinous capsule which contained the vitamin E I'd taken a few hours before. I hoped the smell wouldn't travel up to his nose, because it was mixed with sourness from various milk products from breakfast four or five hours before, and there was the taste of bile at the back of my throat and the bottom of my nose inside my neck. Then after gasping in a few deep breaths to clear my head of the power of this black body, I drew him in deeply again, and again my stomach contorted, and this time when I withdrew to get a breath I saw the curdled strands of snot-like material, partially digested milk and butter, squeeze out the sides of my lips, down his cock, and curl into the rug, mixing with the intricate Turkish pattern of flowers and graphics, and I rubbed the rug quickly to try to get rid of the whiteness of the offending liquids. Then we rolled to another portion of the carpet so that he wouldn't feel the wetness at that spot. In self-defense I wrapped one hand firmly around the base of his cock, marveling at his continuing and increasing hardness, and used that as a buffer, but my sensitive throat reacted even WITH that 32 inch fence of fingers, and for a few moments I wrapped another fist around above the first, and still there were three or four inches protruding for me to play with, so I was dealing with a truly gigantic piece of black meat. Every so often he'd tremble toward an orgasm, and I'd honestly try to satisfy him, but I'd have to stop my rhythm or decrease his penetration so as merely to breathe, and then he'd go off his coming and lay there, gasping, saying "You nearly had me that time," and that would spur me to new efforts. I nearly had him about three times, and I was almost numb to the spasms from my stomach and throat, almost high in my efforts to make this goddam black meat COME in my mouth. Then there came the blessed time that I had my lungs newly full of air, and he squirmed around on the floor to get maximum tension from his legs, and thrust his whole midsection toward my head in sharp lunges, keeping my head in place with his hands, and I held my breath again as my throat filled with the blood-filled flesh, and I felt it grow even harder, and I was quite certain his skin must be lacerated by the edges of my teeth, and he began to grunt in rhythm with his thrusts, and then he buried himself fully down my mouth and throat, and I could feel each individual pulse of his cock as his long-awaited orgasm spit glob after glob of semen down my insensitive throat, and though I longed to pull him out to savor the taste of his black come, I left him inside, throbbing, body in a rictus of pain and pleasure, and the throbs finally subsided, his hands relaxed, and I could allow some length of flesh to slowly slide from my lubricating mouth, and feel the slip of skin between my lips, loose now from his rapidly diminishing cock, and when his head started to come out of my mouth, the loose foreskin flipped up over the head and enveloped the shiny black knob for the first time in quite a while, and I stopped the egress and slid the still-sensitive head around in its sheath, and he threw himself around on the floor, making sounds with his breath, and finally pulled my head off his cock, holding it with firm tenderness, and I let an "Omhm" of laughter out of my throat before a long intake of air, and he ruffled through my hair affectionately, saying "That was sure a do," and I said something about never thinking I could take it all, and he apologized for taking so long in coming, and I countered with the fact that I'd enjoyed every minute of it, even though possibly in a masochistic way. And then we were aware that we were quite alone in the center of the floor, and we lay together, curled, trying to remain oblivious to everyone that we imagined was looking at us, and then we sat up and kissed a bit and I rubbed his body to find that his cock still hadn't gone fully down, and was a flexible handful even half-erect. For no reason other than I thought we were through I got off the floor and said "I've got to get a beer," and went into the kitchen to find the paper bag gone, so I opened the refrigerator and found one lone can of Schlitz, so I figured that since John had two and I had two and someone had taken two, that would at least give me the right to take one, so I did, looking around with some surprise to find I couldn't see John anywhere. I peeped into the bathroom and there was no one there, and I went into the living room and was surprised to find him gone. Just about then Don announced that it was 6 pm and he had to go to work soon, and everyone had to leave, and I dressed, wondering what I could do except go down and wait by the car, since I peeped out the window and saw it was still there. Then there was some news of another party uptown somewhere, and someone plump was inviting everyone there, and I figured I'd leave it up to John, and then Bob B. asked me if I was going, and I asked if he was going, and he said "Only if you come, too," so that rather tempted me to go along, but I couldn't decide anything until I found where John had gone. When the whole place seemed to be clearing out, I put on my coat and stood outside, watching the people leave, and a couple in a station wagon seemed rather interested in taking me along wherever they were going, and I mentioned the party announced for later in the evening, and they said, "Oh, that's just for fist fuckers," and I marveled at that, figuring I didn't want anything to do with those, and then Marvin came down the steps, and said he was going, and said he thought John and I should go along, since it was going to be a good party, and we didn't have to be fist fuckers to enjoy it. Then someone else came down and said that John had been in the shower, and I'd missed him from there, and Marvin said he thought John had said he was going, and when John finally came down, he said he DID want to go, so Marvin piled into the back seat and told us all about the host: he loved to be fist-fucked, and there was someone else there earlier in whom Marvin had tucked his arm about halfway to his elbow, and he described the sensation as quite startling, because the heart beat was quite obvious as it was transmitted through the body. I asked him to tell us about it, and he said that the fellow obviously enjoyed it, and for a bit he even had both fists in his ass, but that with only one hand it was possible to get enormous penetration. I said something about the cleanliness of the operation, and he remarked that anyone who liked penetration that thoroughly certainly knew how to clean themselves completely. He said that he was a bit leery before trying it the first time, but when he tried it, he loved it. But I remembered that he also loved rimming, and though I'd tried it a couple of times, I couldn't be called an addict of that particular method of sexual pleasure. We drove up to 8th and 57th, and I dashed up to the apartment to get my pot, since the host, another Bob, said he had a pipe, and then we drove up to 87th, or something street, and parked on 86th, and then walked around the corner to the large new apartment building, rode to one of the top floors, and walked into a lavish apartment in which the first thing that caught our eyes were the windows bordering the long terrace that faced south, over a grand panorama of New York's tallest buildings. We went out onto the terrace and looked around, and I smiled and told John about my exit line: "Oh, he's the one who brought the pot." "Yes, but who IS he?" and I thought that was a lovely introduction to the party. We looked at the sights and then went back inside to case the joint. I sat down in the deep leather Mies chair and cuddled Marvin, who was sitting on its ottoman, in my legs. Across the way Bob Broadway was sitting in a chair, smiling over at me. John was fussing about with the pipe with the host, Bob, and there was a tall gangling fellow of no personal attraction whom I vowed to avoid, a very thin long-haired blond who seemed too young to consider, and an enormously chested bodybuilder whom I'd noticed with attraction earlier, but with whom I'd had no contact that I could recall, and an older man with a balding spot in the center of his skull was making out like mad with a very cute Italianate kid, and they necked with such avidity that I was convinced that anyone could have laid with the cute kid if he only had the kissing technique. So there were ten of us, and Marvin had pooh-poohed the idea of anything to eat, and John wouldn't consider pizza for the two of us, since he wanted to furnish food for the whole thing, and then we decided that we could eat later, since this probably wouldn't last very long. Bob insisted that everyone could get their own drink in the kitchen, and I decided, again, that I wasn't going to smoke, since I didn't want to foist my lethargy on that large a group, and I wanted to retain my selectivity, since the only people I considered worth having were the cutie currently involved on the floor at my feet with the older man, possibly Bob Broadway, though I really thought I'd had him, the muscle builder, and maybe the blond kid. And the apartment was full of so many toys that I was convinced that I could hype myself into a perfectly acceptable high just by LOOKING at the space-cube filled with lights reflecting off mirrored sides, like looking through a hole into outer space, a rotating lightshow that slowly gyrated on its own motorized musings on a nearby tabletop, and the balled television cover in the bedroom, transforming random colors into brilliant shows of kaleidoscopic mutability and uncertainty, which surely turned John on, since he shouted for me when he saw it for the first time. I also played with the magnetic attractors on the piano, and it seemed like a good simile for gay life, where people would orbit around each other without actually touching each other with any lasting effect. So when Bob suggested I should get a drink, and he said he had vodka, and suggested a bullshot, which he constructed from vodka and a bullshot-mix bottle from the refrigerator, and then I knew I had the evening made. So I made a drink, and paused to sweep up the glass that he swept off the counter when he was telling me about his roommate, who didn't like him balling anyone else, and he was blearily admiring of the permissive relationship John and I allowed each other. I went back into the living room and sat around a bit, and then the Moody Blues came on, everyone passed around the huge pipe to smoke, and things started getting lively, first of course with John stripping the blond of his trousers, and playing with his body, and later I saw him playing what turned out to be the first version of his Body Ballet on the torso of the rather unattractive large fellow I didn't care for. I was quite high from drinking, and I went to stand beside the piano where the muscle builder was undressing, and we fell into a rather sweaty clinch that could barely be broken to finish undressing, and for the first time in a long time I enjoyed the sensation of undressing someone, and enjoyed that partially dressed feeling which can sometimes be sexier than complete nakedness, and we finally got down to bare cocks when it was obvious we were both up, and we stood grappling with each other in the center of the room for a bit before he suggested we go into the bedroom, and we went in to find two others occupying the bed, but we lay down on it anyway, and started feeling each other up and doing 69 and coming back up to neck, and I thoroughly enjoyed his enormous body, slightly down from peak hardness, but it was still bulky and finely muscled under the slight layer of fat which just made it all the more palpable. He tried to get me to come, but though I hadn't come through the evening, I felt far from coming, so in self-defense I went down on him, and started working away on him, and finally he came into my mouth, falling all over the bed with his sweating body, gasping from the efforts he was putting forth, and everyone was sort of looking at us, and as soon as possible, rather crudely knowing that I'd drained him completely, and that was really what I wanted from him, I went back in for another drink. Bob got me to light a pipe of BHG for him, and he said it was great stuff, and got out a large towel for the floor, a huge can of Crisco, and Marvin proceeded to grease himself up and the next time I looked, I rather coolly noticed that Marvin's entire hand, up to his wrist and slightly beyond, had vanished into Bob's interior. Bob presented a rather unpleasant spectacle on the towel, his belly in small rolls of flesh over his bloated torso, and I felt that fist fuckers must always be a rather corpulent sort, so that the hand wouldn't be too much out of place in all the voluminous folds and turnings of the lower---or even the upper---intestine. He didn't look as if he were enjoying it, and his small cock was flaccid on the folds of his groin, and Marvin was even futilely beating away at himself to gain interest in the activities, but neither seemed truly part of it. I held hands and cocks with Bob B., seated in his chair sipping my bullshot, and when he said it didn't have much vodka in it, I went into the kitchen and slathered the glass rather fuller with the clear liquid, and he said it had more of a punch then. I wasn't interested in the bodybuilder anymore, the cutie and the older man seem to have vanished, John was in the bedroom with someone, and the blond was lying on the floor in a comatose state, at intervals to jerk out with some part of the song, and since I thought he was into the Moodies, I went onto the floor next to him and began necking with him, and there followed a most pleasant half-hour of stroking and necking and kissing and hugging mightily, and though neither of us really had the intention of getting hard, we both rather languidly hoped the other would harden to increase their interest for the other person, and we necked and listened to the music, and he was completely stoned and I had had so much liquor I was as good as stoned, and told John that once when he passed by with the vacant smile on his face that indicated he was totally sensual. Somewhat after the time with the blond on the floor, I decided I really had to go to the john, so I extracted myself from my partner and went into the john, closing the door, and noticing that the only light was black light. There was the funny blue highlight on everything, and the strange enhancement of the 3-D effect that must bear some relationship to blue wavelengths being longer than the others, causing double images for John when it's on a stage at great distance, and I absently stood over the toilet, looking down at the water in the bowl which was the same dull grayish quality as the john itself. But then I started pissing, and was amazed to see the fluid streaming from my cock fluoresce under the ultraviolet, and a cloudy chartreuse luminescence began to circle in the water of the john, and it continued to dive and billow, like ink dropped into water at the Electric Circus lightshow, until finally it reached the outer edges of the bowl and merged into a pale greenish sheet of liquid, contrasting with the gray of the bowl. I felt like a child discovering the joys of erection for the first time, and looked down at my dick in wonder, shaking fluorescent bits off the tip, and looked down and squeezed the meatus and marveled at the opalescent green-stranded fleck that oozed from my urethra, and I smashed it like a lightning bug's body on my fingers to wipe it off and brush it onto my leg, where the dilution of the liquid, and the rapid drying, caused it to vanish quickly. I was fascinated, in a stoned way, by the brilliant surface of my urine, and I tied it in with my LSD trip where I felt so completely a part of what I urinated into the bowl. Then I reluctantly reached for the handle, expecting to see counter swirls as the water boiled into the urine, but was rather surprised, again, to see very little agitation, but a gradual steady lightening of the fluorescent effect, until finally it vanished as the dilution got too great. It was a fabulous effect, one that I never would have dreamed of, and I rushed out of the john to tell John that, whatever else he did in the course of the evening, he would have to remember to get into the john and watch himself urinate, because it was absolutely something to see and remember for the rest of your life. After that, the rest of the evening seemed downhill. Eventually everyone who was left, about six of us, ended up back in the bedroom on the bed in some sort of group sex, but the only one I was interested in was the bodybuilder again, and others were fucking and sucking away, and then when they cleared away, and I still hadn't come, the bodybuilder came back to me with much kissing, and when I got hard for the fiftieth time, I decided that I really wanted to come, so I lay down on the bed and started pumping away on myself (OH, I'd forgotten I HAD come before, on the bed, doing myself, with everyone in a group, and I whacked away at my limp cock until just ready to come, and then I took,the head of the muscle builder and pushed it down on me, so that I could strain and arch my back and groan and go through all the motions of coming without anyone except him being aware that I was quite limp. So this was my coming a second time), stretching out my legs and feeling very cramped while doing so, but he was doing the same, and I so enjoyed feeling and watching his body stretching and puffing up and tensing and flexing that I finally got to come a second time, spraying the sheets and him and me with my second coming, and by that time Bob seemed anxious to get everyone out, and he came in to observe the two of us with some wry comment that I didn't catch. Then the four or five last ones were in the living room getting dressed and I looked over to catch a look at the host, and he had a very disgusted look on his face, and as I paused in my dressing, he looked at my look and said with wry disdain, "Yes, Bob, you know EXACTLY what I'm thinking," and though I didn't, the tone of his voice seemed extremely disappointed, and I can only guess that he wanted to be the center of attraction, and was sorry that he wasn't, and hadn't been satisfactorily fist fucked to what he considered satiation. He liked my pot, though, and begged a goodly glassful of what was left, and thanked us very much for it, and then we all left, rather marveling at the evening, ending up trying for food and ending up with souvlaki, quite stoned, and dizzily watching John drive to his place at 12. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 5/5/71).
TSI-DUN AT JOHN R.'S
Bus in the rain to 57th and First Avenue about 7:15, and walk to John's place, and he greets us at the door still clothed because it has a full view of the hallway. He still looks old and awful and artificial, and we're into the living room with naked bodies sprawled all over and undress, putting our things in neat stacks under the piano, the lone place left for clothing. Into the kitchen for a beer, and then wander into the bedroom where people are standing around necking, groping, fucking on the floor, and doing each other on the sofa. See the familiar faces of Marvin and some of the regulars from the group, and set my beer down and just generally push my way through the crowd, seeing what's going on. Everyone seems quite high, since the level of activity is intense, and I sort of feel my way into groups and begin kissing and hugging and squeezing erect cocks at random, and then I single out a fairly puffy body to get started on, and we wet palms and get each other up to a fine peak of frenzy, but there's something about his body finally that fails to keep me excited, so when someone else breaks in to form a threesome, I simply move further and further out until, gently disengaging my original partner's hand from my cock, I'm sliding out of contact, making my way to another section of the room. Peter C. is back, and we kiss for a few unexciting moments, and I handle him and he immediately begins acting as though he were in extremis, when he's scarcely hard, and that sort of deception makes me go down completely, and I smile what must be a sick smile at him and leave his vicinity. Back into the living room and watch John playing with someone on the floor, plunking his hands over his elongated torso, seeming to ignore the fact that he's soft, and I sit on the edge of the sofa, looking up with pleasure when someone sits next to me with a thin face and nice mustache and pleasantly smooth body, that I soon reach over to touch, and his face swings around and he says this is his first time there, and I tell him how nice I feel his body to be under my fingers, and he comes around to touch me, and then I suggest we go into the bedroom so we can be more fully together. Into the bedroom and stand for a bit, kissing and rubbing, and his rather small soft cock starts elongating into a truly long thick cock which thankfully doesn't quite reach the proportions of Bob B.'s enormity. We love the feel of each other's bodies under our hands, and we finally stumble back down to the sofa, where he sits on my knees facing me, and our hands have a grand time playing with each other, and then he seems quite close to coming, and I get down to do him, and he swivels his body neatly in and out of my mouth, and in just the right amount of time, so that I'm quite excited, get a lot of time to play with his hard cock, yet not enough time so that my jaw begins to ache and my teeth begin to dig into him, he comes copiously, and stays hard for a time afterward, so I have a completely delightful time rubbing his uncut flesh over and around his slick head, playing with his delightful balls, rubbing my hands over his artificially-beautiful, plastically-tactile skin. He compliments me on my sucking powers, and we sit together on the sofa until someone else can't keep his hands off him, and I excuse myself to get another beer. John R.'s now in the kitchen, having finished his guarding of the dollar cache so that no one ELSE will take any of it, and he makes some kind of joke about how quickly the beer's going, and I'm sure he didn't have too much of a stockpile of it, since I'm reduced to opening his private stock (or SOMEONE'S private stock) of Lowenbrau at the end of the evening. John's still interested in sex, and when I see his friend from Dracula Sabbat dressing, I'm terrifically impressed with the looks of his legs in his tight jeans, though he tends to look a bit overweight undressed, and he said he enjoyed the play, but that they've made it longer in the new production, and we talk on quite a bit, his face handsome and strong and lovely in the dim lighting, and we kiss just before he leaves, and he says something flatteringly nice about how we'll have to get together sooner at the NEXT orgy. He leaves and others are in the process of leaving and I get involved with the very hairy guy from before, since I like the way he insistently plays with himself, and I get up to kiss him with great skill, and he returns the kisses with great skill, but though we both try to work each other up, and he has a ring around the base of his cock to help him, neither he nor I really get going, and though there's nothing APPARENTLY wrong with what we're doing, it's just a technical activity on both our parts, and though we must look deeply involved to the outside spectator, it's obvious to both of us that we're not getting anywhere at all, so we stop. Would THAT be what it would be like to neck with someone COMPLETELY like myself? I hope not. Back into the living room and detachedly look on as someone powerfully fucks someone else on the floor, while Marvin is busy rimming the fucker, and the fuckee is busily sucking on Lee A., who is sitting charmingly in a chair next to me. Then that stops without anyone really getting any pleasure out of it, and John is with someone else over near the sofa working over them, and someone's sucking his indefatigable cock, though I seem to remember that he didn't come once through the evening. When Lee left, he looked devastating in his blue jeans, but John didn't seem ready to leave, and I went back into the bedroom with the groovy music going and watched someone else doing a third person, and I started playing with myself, and someone came up in the darkness, and I haven't any idea who it may have been, except that it was probably someone quite old, who'd not been able to get with anyone of his choice through the whole long evening, someone I would have been disgusted with had I seen, but I lay back in my chair, and he came over with some sort of emollient and lathered me generously, and stood above me and whacked away at his cock, so I thrust myself around and around in the chair, sweating up a storm, oblivious to anyone else in the room, though John R. came into the doorway once or twice, rather as if he wished everyone were gone, and still I whacked away at my wank, and my partner did the same, and we gasped and grunted and groaned, and the music went on and on, and finally, after excruciating efforts, I groaned toward climax, and though he manfully tried to come at the same time I did, he didn't manage to do so, and so I flailed away, spreading myself, the chair, and the surrounding areas with my come, and he finally groaned into orgasm, adding his seed to mine, and then he came up with some sort of sheet or towel and wiped me off, and I rather embarrassedly dried myself and made sure I got out of the room before I had a chance to see who I was with, since I might have been even more completely disgusted with myself. John made some nice remarks about Lee's trousers, and I made a point of introducing Lee to George, who took his name for the membership list, and of course John R. was pushing around a tablet and paper and pencil for anyone who would like to be invited to his more informal gatherings with smaller groups, and I got ironic satisfaction from the fact that few people seemed to take him up on his offer. Into the john and was quite impressed with the nicely papered walls and the array of towels, but the personality of the host was just a bit too extreme to cope with. He'd talked about how George got there earlier and said he had to get rid of more furniture, but there just was no other place he could put them, and sadly we couldn't use the garden, since it was raining outside. After everything was over, there was an open window to help with the airing, and I could see the windows of the apartments backing onto this one, and someone with a pair of binoculars, or a movie camera, would have caught quite a scene indeed. John and I were some of the final ones to leave, and I hoped someone would "rescue" John from his lack of success during the evening, just as I was happy to hear that Lee had been at Don S.'s, had attended a play, and had fist fucked Bob to satisfaction after everyone had left, staying overnight there to keep him company, and I thought that was quite beautiful for him to do, though I don't envy his position in doing it. He'll be a great addition to the club. John and I decided to walk home, since it had stopped raining, and we felt exhausted walking through the streets, and my legs particularly were trembling from the exertion of my final agonized come at the end. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 5/8/71).
ORGY FOR HAMP
I'd called John C. earlier in the evening, but he wasn't in. Bob R. gave me his "I'm straight now" speech, though he thanked me for thinking of him, and then I called Fred C. at home and John suggested I get him at class, which I did, and he seemed interested in coming over, and said he'd give his mother the excuse of going to see "Carmen," and then coming here about 9, after the first act. Got back here at 8:30, and silly John came into the bedroom to copy off the visas, and Hamp asked for pornography and I got stuff out, and he started looking at the drawings and even got an erection, and I must say, for an unattractive body, that a hard cock is one of the nicest attraction-getting factors I know of. Finally got in touch with John C. at 9, and he said he didn't want to come over, but I assured him he'd be the center of attraction, and he persuaded himself to come over, partly with news that we were going to show slides which we never got around to showing. I finally rooted John out of the bedroom and we all smoked, and then I served the champagne, and we were sitting around wondering where all the others were, and finally Fred knocked and came in, coming into the bedroom to tell John all about his girlfriends, and finally I got them all into the living room with Hamp, who seemed about to start jerking off against the chair arm if no one paid any attention to him. I'd put on all the Moody Blues music I had, turned off all the lights except for the paper-shaded one, and put on the blinking lights in the bedroom: that was all I could do, because the pot was definitely putting me way out, and we all prevailed on Fred to get undressed, and I got undressed, too, and then the door went and it was John C., who was met behind the door by Hamp, who immediately made him welcome, and then there was a flurry with the last of the clothes, and I was sitting rather moodily on the side of the sofa, getting the unwanted attentions of Hamp, so that finally I had to go down on him to get him off MY cock, and he groaned and moaned but seemed forever far from coming, and finally I just lost interest and went back to my corner to listen to the head-spinning music. Finally Fred came over to me, and we necked for a very long time, and I was pleased to neck with him, and then we stood up, and I felt myself going very high, and I figured he'd do what I wanted if I'd do what he wanted, or some such combination as that, and we started rocking back and forth, kissing wildly, playing with limp cocks, and then we started dancing around a bit, and I made some excuse and went into the bedroom, where John was in the middle of one of his stories, and then I went back into the living room to light another pipe for Hamp, who wanted more, and necked with both Johns for a bit, and then back into the bedroom for what seemed to be the aftermath of something, since I heard John hitting someone as he does before they come, and John was into his stories, and it seemed someone was fucking someone else, but afterward John said that Hamp was greatly disappointed because no one fucked him because no one was into that scene, but I was so far out that I really didn't CARE what was going on, and only when the five Moody's records played themselves out did I get up the energy to go back into the living room and turn them over, and then it was 12:30, somehow, and John C. had to leave, which was nice, since he'd said before that he'd have to leave at 11, so that meant he had a good time. Hamp seemed to be getting tired, and Fred wanted to listen to some music under the headphones, because John had said earlier that he HAD to go to bed at 1, and that left the living room to the three of us. Fred was having a ball listening to the music (more of the Moodys, I guess), and Hamp seemed to want to sleep, but moaned about sleeping alone in the living room, and then I started pulling out the second bed for Fred, who came out from under the earphones long enough to say that he HAD to get home, and I sort of said it might as well be now, that he could use the earphones some other time, and he dressed and got out of there, and Hamp grabbed me and kissed me goodnight, and I had the presence of mind to put a couple of things away and take the pot pipe apart, but then it seemed everything took an AGE, so I just left the rest of it and crawled into bed beside John at 1:15. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 5/29/71).
TSI-DUN AT GRAHAM AND H.'S
There are lots of US in the hall as we scramble for the elevator, and there's a strange embarrassment as we face each other in the brightly lit confines with our clothes still on, knowing we're bound for an orgy with each other, and the door opens to a very crowded scene, with absolutely no room to put down our clothes, and I undress and put my things on top of the sofa, go into the kitchen for a beer, and wander into the living room to sit around and drink for a bit, since the wine I drank with my steak for dinner tonight really isn't putting me much in the mood for sex, much as I seemed to have wanted it during the day. It's still light outside at 8:30, and I sit in the corner, next to a rather nice fellow reclining on the floor, and some scrawny hippy-type comes in with headband and beaded bag, and undressed right in front of us and lights up a joint and passes it around, but even that doesn't start things off. The big-cocked guy that I associate with the group that John doesn't like from New Jersey immediately appears on the scene and tries to get me interested in him, but I'm not, and though the three of us start tussling, I just can't get interested and move away on the pretext of finding John. He's in the bedroom, of course, in the middle of everything, and it's wall-to-wall mattress, very hot, with sweating, struggling, coming bodies all over the place, and it doesn't do the least little thing to interest me. Back into the living room to find my corner free again, and there's a cute little fellow that I'd seen time and time again, leaning against the wall, and he looks over at me and smiles, and another joint comes around from the hippy who's still there, but I just don't seem to be interested in him, and then I lean toward the small fellow, and he kisses very nicely, and we wrap ourselves around each other, lying right there on the floor, and neither of us seems to be getting hard, but then neither of us seems to mind that, and we get closer and closer together, and every so often, when I open my eyes, there are his eyes drinking me in, holding me close, playing with my lips and ears and hair, saying how much he absolutely loves my mustache, and he keeps lipping and sucking on it and kissing it, and it's highly flattering, but it's like going to bed with an immature child, since there's little overtly sexual about it. Finally he suggests we go into the bedroom, and I agree, thinking that the activity, now that I'm fairly high, will be better for me, and I go in, even getting someone to offer me a popper, which makes me FEEL like having sex, and I start sucking on the cute little fellow, and though he's hard, I don't seem to have the concentrated rhythm to continue the sucking to get him to come, and he smiles eternally down on me, and we neck for a few more minutes while everyone goes down, and I even try watching some fairly nice bodies fucking each other, and the light level is nice, but I just can't seem to get interested in anything. Tell him so, and we both go back into the living room to sit quietly together, and John comes over to see how I'm enjoying it, and I make some noncommittal remark, and the small one inquires about our relationship, and he seems friendly, and there are a couple of little other encounters during the evening which lead absolutely nowhere, so when John suggests we leave at about 9:30, there's nothing I can think to say but yes, and nothing I can think to feel but disappointment, yet I search for a reasonable idea that I'd have MORE sex if I stayed, and I couldn't honestly feel that, so the only thing to do was leave before I started feeling even MORE frustrated with myself. As we were dressing in the crowded hallway, there was a humpy short number with a black mustache who was interested in kissing me and John, whom he assumed were having an affair because "it just looked that way," and we kissed a bit, and his body was nice, and I vaguely debated asking him home with us, but it didn't seem like it would work out (in the first place, I thought John had the car and we were going back to HIS place), so I just chalked the evening up to a complete loss, except for someone to cuddle with again if I felt absolutely alone, but as a sex object and sex-enjoyer, I felt like an absolute dud. But at least I was happy I didn't FEEL like having sex, but I certainly hated my body for being so lackadaisical. Turns out John didn't come, either. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 5/30/71).
TSI-DUN AT C. AND L.'S
In at 8, ushered downstairs to undress, and the awful guy starts eyeing me again, and the fellow I necked with so much last time seems to be ignoring me, though later he says he didn't notice me. Upstairs for a beer, sit around the living room for awhile watching a cute blond playing with the dog---very popular for a female---and then down to the "green room" two levels down for a few people sitting around smoking. Up one flight and find a joint being passed around by a wonderfully-bodied fellow, and we start feeling each other, and a number of heads gather around, kissing and probing, and I do a few people, but they seemed to be more interested in each other than in me, so I moved through the growing press of people in the bedroom and saw a tall, dark-haired young fellow with a VERY nice body that I chose to caress on the way past, and he responded, and we stood and touched and liked what we touched and necked, and I got his cock lathered up and he got very interested, and we lay down on the bed and really started going at it. After a bit, there was John, and by this time I was tired doing him, so I turned him over to John and went back up to the face to kiss him, and then John moved away, and I went back down on him, and finally everyone went away and we were alone again, and very nicely kissing and rolling around the bed, and his cock was nicely shaped and not too large, sort of a perfect mouthful, and he seemed to be interested in having his prostate massaged, so I started ramming his crotch with the heel of my palm, and he seemed to like it, and I worked over him for a long time with my hands and mouth until finally he started groaning and thrashing around, and I went WAY down on him and could feel him coming, so I settled back to gather all his come in my mouth, and John was there looking on with interest, and I recalled what he'd said before, so I looked at him and he looked at me and we kissed and I passed the whole caboodle of come over to his mouth, while his eyes went up and down and his throat made surprised humming sounds at the quantity. I, in my stoned state, thought it tasted sweet, and hoped there was enough of that quality left for John too. Then the trick and I really started digging each other, curling up around each other, rocking back and forth on the bed kissing up a storm, digging each other's bodies, and we both thought the other was quite extraordinary, but I suspect it was more the pot than the actual flesh. Then someone else came up and tried to get him excited, and I went down on him again and he DID come up, and then someone else took over necking with him and doing him, so I lay back and started jerking myself off very unsatisfactorily, and I went through my usual "It just isn't possible, but if I can just DO it, I will have done it, and I can forget about it" trip, and with a great deal of straining and paranoid attributing of comments around me to ME, I groaned into an orgasm, even bouncing up and trying to get the cutie's head down on my cock, but he wasn't interested, so I caught a glimpse of clots of come dribbling onto my belly before I lay back in an almost-faint, then self-consciously rubbing the spots off: I'd wanted him to take me. After a few minutes of recuperation, I left the bedroom, and actually never saw the guy again. Downstairs to play around with Ed for a bit, and again he came up to maximum, though I didn't do him to completion, saying I'd better leave before he DID pop, and he agreed, saying he thought it was a good party. Met Art at the top of the stairs, and told him about the green room downstairs, and I later saw someone either fucking him or being fucked by him with gusto, so I figure he had a good time. Also saw Joe F., and we had a stoned conversation about "that girl, Arno," and when I passed Peter on the stairs, he sort of mock-bitchily said that I knew EVERYONE that was there. I felt pleased. Back into the pot-room, but the fellow I tried to make sort of moved away, and I went back upstairs to sit in the corner, overhearing a "are you Bob's roommate" from Joe to John, and they came over and we chatted, both of them with their heads on my chest, then Ed came over to start playing with John, and I decided to move out. Then re-encountered Bob L., and we went downstairs to neck in the now over-hot room, and I couldn't manage to come up, and he regretted the fact that we'd again "missed each other in first hardness," and I moistened his cock and he responded to it terrifically, and I went down on him for long periods of time during which I got quite tired, and finally HE came with hardly any emission, and we caressed and spoke sweet nothings, and he inquired whether I liked watching, but I said I preferred movies, thinking he might rise to the occasion, but he didn't, merely saying that he'd even like to see me ALONE, but nothing was followed up on it. After he'd come, I said I was going up for a beer, and John said he was leaving, but there were enough groovy people around that I wanted to stay (and I forgot about the first encounter, when I met the guy who'd been playing with the dog, and we kissed nicely---even though he had an overly hairy back---and I finally managed to make him hard, though he seemed hard to bring up, even though his balls were completely tucked up inside his scrotum). I sat around with the beer, looking at people coming back and forth, said goodbye to Joe and Bob, and then Ed left, saying how much he appreciated my asking him, and though I half expected some sort of invitation, it wasn't forthcoming. Then decided it was really silly sticking around like that, and I was half fearing a recurrence of my sickness on Sunday from drinking too much, though I only had wine with dinner, two vodka tonics, and a beer, but I was concerned about the mixing. A few of the blacks had nice bodies, and I necked with one for a bit, which was pleasant, and copped a few more feels of nice bodies going past, but the evening was over, with Peter even running around saying it WASN'T the Continental, and it would have to close soon, though it was only 11, so I dressed, sort of looking around to see who I'd missed, and left, being followed by nobody. Out on the street I was surprised to find 8th Avenue fairly cruisy, and I even looked at a young blond who passed with a nice cock outlined beneath his jeans, but a passing cop car seemed to put him off, he stopped looking at me and walked back uptown, and though I followed him for a block or two, he didn't look around again, so I kicked myself for being perverse and went back, passing the Elgin for the third time, and descended into the subway. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 6/10/71).