Chapter 4

Here we were in the classiest hotel in town; naked together in a luxurious bed ... had showered, during which we had a bent-over quickie beneath the pelting water. We ordered room service—hamburgers—chitchatted about our week. She tried to pin me to the wall with the question of whether or not I thought she was lovable. After passing the test I was primed for more sex. I thought the quickie in the shower was just a tune-up for something more spectacular. Instead, after being in the hotel for two hours, an hour and a half of which I had a constant hard-on, I’d been listening to Marcia talking: sighing, sniffling, crying, and talking some more. It was the kind of story you might read about in some kind of lurid magazine, one where you would have considered the subject of an overactive fantasy or just an outright pack of lies.

The ordeal of the three girls’ kidnapping was difficult for me to listen to. Marcia’s telling of it was straightforward enough and I didn’t doubt her veracity. When she was finished she was exhausted. Lying on her right side; my left arm was over her shoulder, my hand on her hip, and her face was resting high up on my stomach. I was surprised that her perverse story could turn me on in such a way. But chronologically I was still a teenager brimming with hormones, ready for an instant plunge inside this soft, warm, and trusting young woman’s body.

From the point in the story where Marcia and the girls were first raped I got an erection that was still rock hard an hour and a half later. I don’t have to explain “Blue balls,” to my male friends but, while most women have never heard of the condition, none would be able to understand the intensity of the aching that such an everlasting boner can cause. Only one thing can help, a gushing ejaculation. She was finished with her story but, with the worst possible case of blue balls, I was in desperate need of relief.

I felt a warm wetness on my stomach and realized that Marcia was crying. In the throes of my anguish, I asked, “Are you okay Marcia?” After a chest-deflating sigh, she sniveled a few times before the damn burst. Sobbing, her body shuddering on mine as she whimpered and then moaned, “It just isn’t fair Toby! Why couldn’t I have been just a normal girl?”

Amid my urgent need, it dawned on me that to Marcia I had become like a Vestal Virgin in ancient Rome to whom the ruling class entrusted their deepest secrets. I didn’t know at the time that the sun would rise in reality, and I would soon learn of a situation that would seem so sordidly fascinating. But I wasn’t ready for it anymore. I had paid my dues in listening to this exciting, naked woman who had melted into my body, telling a major portion of her story.

At the moment I could only hear my neglected testicles crying out like Engelbert Humperdinck singing, “PLEASE RELEASE ME LET ME GO!” But I had to let Marcia cry herself out. My problem became more intense when the crying was taken over by her kitten-like snoring. She was a dead weight on my body, an added discomfort.

Having long realized that the sex I had anticipated for the evening would not come to pass, my five-fingered friend would have to do the trick. Ignoring the demands of my selfish penis I repositioned our bodies and made her as comfortable as possible, as well as created some space where I could take care of my dilemma. With the sleeping girl in Neverland, I lamented what could have been as I brought forth the blessed relief. As my cock was wilting to an afterthought I set the clock to 4:30 and snuggled against my sleeping beauty. I had to open the gas station at six.

My slumber was peopled by a troubling dream that included a younger Marcia, two nondescript girls, and a large number of small, Asian men. It was like some kind of pornographic horror film where Marcia and her friends were servicing lines of naked men with their dicks in their hands. To my distress, I was the tall, out-of-place rapist standing at the end of the line. As I was probing her pussy with my hardness Marcia was smiling at me saying, “Thank you, Toby.”

My eyes fluttered as the dream morphed into reality. Trying to clarify the body moving on top of me in the darkness I felt the delicious ambiance of the moving wet and squishy warmth that sheathed my ecstatic cock. My hardness was enveloped by the warmest, most velvety glove, its moistness almost more than I could have imagined. Still, between slumber and wakefulness, my eyes caught the red numbers on the digital clock beside the bed—3:07. Inside Marcia’s vagina my rock-hard cock was being stroked so completely. “Thank you, Toby,” I heard, “welcome back to my world.” Chuckling she let me know, “I’ve been riding you for what must be five minutes now. It’s wonderful. Thank you, thank you, THANK you.”

Her nipples brushed my chest as she leaned over and kissed my lips while her netherness flattened my pubic hair and her ass gently mashed my balls. I couldn’t imagine the kind of Kegel exercises she must have done to tone her abdominal muscles so well that her pussy gripped my dick in such an inconceivable way. Still not sufficiently awake to understand that she was in the throes of a super, clamping orgasm I felt the puddle of warm liquid that was pooling on my belly which made me think that I had come on my tummy in my sleep. Puzzled, I was still rigid and didn’t feel the lethargy that my climax usually brought with it.

Through labored breathing, Marcia rested and said with a chuckle, “I had to pee. When I came back to bed I felt your soldier boy standing at attention, so I decided to hold an inspection. Once again, just like at the gangbang in the fraternity house she reverted to military terminology. “He-he,” she went on, “so far it has passed.”

When she began riding me again I could tell that the wetness on my belly came from her vagina. Having never experienced a squirting female, Marcia was my first. As she increased her pace the sound of her wet pussy washing my erection sounded like an old-fashioned washing machine agitating clothes in the water. “I love that sound Toby,” she panted, “don’t you?”

Pulling back her pussy to the rim of my head tensed and made a couple of angular dips with her G-spot against it. She clamped her pussy around me and mouthed an eerie screeching sound just before freezing in her release. Flattening her body on mine she gasped, “If you need to cum Toby it’ll be okay.” Normalizing her voice she said, “I can ride you like this for as long as you like but I’m afraid you’ll be late for work.”

“We’ve got time,” I responded. “Are you comfortable? Would you like to try a different position?”

“Actually,” she said in a honeyed voice, “I can get myself off better this way.” Changing the tone of her response she murmured, “But if you want to do it that way Toby it’s cool with me.” It was like she had decided to give up control.

After having listened so intensely to her story I tried to imagine how having all those men in Hanoi on top of her might have made her feel. Was it better for her to be on top? Taking her comment to heart about getting herself off I said, “If it’s more comfortable for you sweetie why don’t you do it your way?”

She continued riding me until 3:43. All the while I tried my best to enhance her pleasure by rubbing her clit, caressing her breasts, and squeezing her nipples. Having gotten myself off before I went to sleep. I had staying power to spare. I was able to hold back my ejaculation until 3:39 when Marcia’s orgasms came like a submachine gun, one after another and in quick succession, coating my belly, pubic hair, and balls with her bountiful female ejaculate.

Showering independently I put on the clean uniform I’d packed in my gym bag along with clean socks and underwear. At that time in the morning room service was still closed and there were no restaurants open downstairs yet. Though I was still a naïve bumpkin Marcia, for a twenty-one-year-old woman, was lightyears ahead of me. I followed her through the lobby and into the kitchen just like we belonged there. “Good morning,” she said bringing surprised and cheerful greetings from the kitchen staff that was making preparations for breakfast. The coffee urn, which was the first thing attended to when the staff came in, was fair game. Nobody was going to deny a paying guest, particularly an assertive, attractive female, to fill two to-go cups and help herself to two pieces of bread and make toast for our morning ride.

On the way out of town, nibbling on toast and sipping coffee Marcia said to me. “I’m glad we were able to make up for some of what we missed when I fell asleep. You’re pretty good at it by the way. Maybe you can fill me in some time on how you’ve learned so much about a woman’s body.” She winked then continued, “I can’t thank you enough Tobe for being so understanding. I was exhausted. I’ve told that story of what happened to us in Vietnam to very few people: Daddy, Jerry, and a couple of shrinks. Each time I go over it I feel worn out.”

She had been trying to keep a happy face, but it turned sad as she sighed and said, “I promise to make it up to you, ok?”

Before I got out of her car at the gas station she asked, “Same time next Saturday?”

I still didn’t understand why she had chosen to glam onto me this way but I had no objection. Who knew, maybe next Saturday night would be a full night of sex. Having never met a girl quite like Marcia Zillich I still had reservations and asked, “What about Jerry?”

“We’ll have to talk about that the next time we get together, Toby. Jerry’s on board with what you and I are doing though. He’s glad you’re involved and hopes that between my father, him, and you we might be able to find some kind of an answer to get me out of the pickle I’m in.”

“I’d like to meet your father Marcia,” I said. I didn’t fully know why. It wasn’t as if I was going to ask for her hand or anything, it had more to do with the fact that I was being included in this mysterious “We.” I knew if there was ever going to be a team concept all of the players had to be in sync. It was just such a totally weird concept to be on an equal plane with a father who knew his daughter allowed herself to be gangbanged and that I had been one of the gang, Strange.

The next week was normal except for what had gone on during the past two. I’ve often wondered what my life might have been like had the gas station not needed to replace their underground storage tanks that weekend of the gangbang. But so many things in life are like that. How might it have been different had Roy and Kathy Warren not been my neighbors? Or what wouldn’t have happened at the convent had I not started moving lawns (see Penguin’s Preference)? One thing was for sure, it seemed that sex was a magnet that attracted me in such a peculiar way that it led me into circumstances that most men would never know. Each taught me volumes on the subject of sex.

My relationship with Kathy was pretty straightforward but my experience with the nuns was so unusual that had I told anybody about it they would never have believed me. Finally, this most unusual circumstance began with an introduction at the Corner Bar that led me—ashamed of myself—to be standing naked with fifteen other guys, waiting to have sex with the sweet and alluring girl that I met there was most perplexing. Marcia Zillich, except Jerry Willis who brought her to us, would probably never be seen again by any Delta Xi brother but Toby Wakefield. And here I was.

What made the situation, even more, mystifying was that I liked Marcia from the moment I met her. It was a meeting where I thought I was just being introduced to an attractive, sweet girl. But the girl turned out to be a sexual aberration that, even though she was acting as a result of prior troubles she was DOING it. And I was one of the sixteen guys who would be doing it with her. Because of Jerry Willis’s friendship with my brother, I ended up tending to her needs in the morning, taking her to breakfast, and then taking her home. Now having spent all of Saturday night at the Hotel Cleveland with her a new week was beginning with the prospect of spending the next Saturday night in bed with her as well. In addition to that I had to keep my mind on my studies which, under the circumstances, I found hard to do.

Stunned by the story Marcia told me of how she and two other American girls—the daughters of families on a business mission for an American rubber company—were kidnapped and repeatedly gang-raped, I tried to juxtapose the forced sex in Southeast Asia to the gangbang that went on in the fraternity house. It was becoming obvious to me that the latter was influenced by the former. What I couldn’t understand though was how Marcia left the U.S. for Vietnam as an untouched virgin, was brutally raped, and came back a nymphomaniac.

She told of being terrorized and then purposely addicted to opium in conjunction with the repeated sexual abuse which made the horror seem like an “eerie kind of dream. My exposure to drugs was like that of most of my peers—nonexistent. The only negative thing we knew about drugs at the time was when the movie star Robert Mitchum had been arrested for smoking marijuana. None of us could have understood the incredible highs of opium much less its addictive power.

The innocent girl in Vietnam had been forcibly raped and then drugged into sex by her captors. But in the fraternity house, she appeared to rejoice at the prospect of being “done” by such a rowdy crowd of sex-crazed males. She seemed ecstatically wild in the process and almost maniacally out of control before the night was over. The next morning however she was morose. Saturday night at the Hotel Cleveland during and after the telling of her story she seemed devastated. I was a nineteen-year-old kid who was not ready for such a complex psychological exercise. The more serious issue was how attached I was becoming to Marcia. It didn’t make sense to me. I should have been turned off by a female who engaged in such aberrant sex. Still, at the bidding of my pre-adult hormones, I could barely walk to any of my classes without a huge bulge in my pants brought on by reliving the experience.

On that second Saturday, while I checked my watch every five minutes, I had never spent such a slow day at work. At six o’clock the guys were asking, “Where’s your girlfriend Toby?” They had been quizzing me all day about where we went after work last week, and if she was a “good lay.” (They were older guys). When six o’clock came I had planned better than last week, clocking out and then changing into street clothes. I would only be carrying a gym bag into the hotel and wouldn’t feel like some kind of blue-collar creep, something I had accepted. I would be taking a shower right after I got there so I didn’t have to worry about stinking up my clean clothes. Last week I had never worn the clothes I took. I didn’t expect that I would need to this night either.

It was 6:07 when I came out to meet Marcia, but she wasn’t there yet. The guys kept looking at me from the pumps. I don’t know if it was because they were jealous, they were hoping Marcia wouldn’t show up or they hoped she would. After ten more minutes of waiting she pulled in faster than she should have, coming to a screeching halt. She had been held up in traffic.

The twenty-minute ride from the gas station to Cleveland was different from last week too, we were much more relaxed. After having been upset at being late she seemed totally at ease while driving. Though I was anxious about getting in the sack again with Marcia she seemed rational and unrushed. While she tried to dig into my past she was, in a funny kind of way, mainly just trying to get to know me better.

One would think that after such an event as the gangbang at the fraternity house, being together with her again would have been such an unlikely thing. Throughout that depraved debauch, I had the impression that Marcia’s involvement in the seamy incident was undertaken with swaggering brashness. She could have been saying, “I don’t give a shit about any societal norms, I’m just doing whatever I damned, please. If you don’t like it fuck off.” But at breakfast the following morning she was visibly depressed. It was as if she were ashamed of herself. I was only there with her because of my commitment to Jerry Willis, to get her home safely. But by the time breakfast was finished, I viewed her as a damaged soul that was crying out for help.