Chapter 3: Bruce

Gayle Tansey stopped at the drugstore on her shopping trip in Millerville. After choosing a box of tampons, she picked up a dozen Trojans, and then thought again. She added a second box before going to the cash register. The druggist, Cohen, who was working alone in the store, looked a little surprised. She repressed an impulse to tell him that she was planning a busy night.

The truth, that she was buying condoms as the start of the process of having a baby, would have been too complicated to explain even if the Crew shared their private lives with their neighbors.

Sharon had connected her and Val with a gynecologist who said she saw no need for the seven placebos in every disk of pills. All three of them had a prescription at Cohen’s, and Sharon had one at another pharmacy in Madison. They took real Pills every day of the month, and she hadn’t had a period in years.

Well, if she wanted a kid, she’d have to go off the Pill.

When she stripped her bed for laundry day, she remade it with a rubber sheet and a pad of two twin sheets under her fitted sheet. They had lots of extra top sheets for twin beds. She couldn’t tell whether the first few days of flow were heavier because she’d held off so long or she just wasn’t used to it any more. She went four nights without a man, longer than she’d gone in years. Then she took Val and Sharon aside to find which guys they’d favored and which they were going to favor that night.

“Bruce,” she asked after the news went off and Sharon and Val had already gone upstairs with Greg and Trent, “would you like to come up for the night?”

“I’d love to.”

“Meet me there after we’ve each done our prep time.”

Bruce had always been a bit overwhelmed by Gayle. Sharon was sexy, especially when you could slowly strip her nurse’s uniform from her; Val was sexier, the schoolgirl you were violating however many times you’d violated her before. Gayle was pure sex. Her breasts were as full as those of any Vegas showgirl, but hers were real and weighed like real flesh.

“It’s going to be a bit messy,” she warned him.

“I can remember.” Before they had come up here, the girls of the Crew had had periods. Only Val had let that stop her. They had a kiss, and he explored her mouth. She sucked his tongue. When he drew back, he removed her top.

His shirt followed. For the fifth kiss, his bare skin met her bounteous bosom. He abandoned the game to walk behind her. He nibbled on her neck while he held one huge boob in each hand. He let them down to undo her slacks from the front. Then he knelt to remove her shoes and socks. He’d changed to flip-flops, so that got them even. Kneeling there, he undid her slacks and drew them down.

“Your turn,” she said. He rose, and she loosened his belt and shoved his jeans down. When he stepped out, she shoved down his boxers, as well. She showed him a packet.

“You apply, or me?”

“Oh, could you?” He hadn’t used a rubber for years, and when he had, he’d done it himself. Somehow, the experience was a combination of an arousing woman handling his genitals and a mommy putting on his mittens. It seemed incestuously erotic. He pushed at the elastic of her panties, and they fell down.

“There’s one more step,” Gayle said as she pushed the panties off with her feet.

“Well, you did me.”

She laughed. “You are evil. I do it squatting.” She moved over the waste basket and squatted down. Bruce bent over and found the thread. The feeling of the release of tension as the tampon came out was accompanied by a rich, earthy smell.

Gayle got into bed, and he climbed in over her. It was too soon, but he had been teased enough. He found the spot easily and thrust in. She was soft around him and soft under him. She was the earth-mother, and he was tempted to crawl in totally.

But, he couldn’t really fit, and -- however comfortable to him she was under him -- he couldn’t be too comfortable to her lying on her. He took more of his weight on his left arm and reached his right hand between them.

“You are woman,” he said. He found where she was most woman and began to stroke her.

He held back his motions, simply feeling the warmth around his cock and the softness under him. Then, when she began to move, he moved against her. Every stroke he made into that softness aroused him further and drove him to stroke faster and deeper. He clamped his teeth and hung on to his orgasm by a thread.

Then she surges under him. He draws back and feels her tighten around him. He plunges and pulses into what is a virtual earthquake under him.

When she rested, he rested, too. Then, knowing that he had to be heavy on her, he rolled off. The mattresses on the women’s beds are firm, and he reflected on how much softer she had been.

“Sorry,” he said. “I started too soon.”

“Well, we ended together. That was sweet.” She turned off the lamp and moved back against him. If he couldn’t fall asleep on top of her softness, he could with it in his arms.

When she dried up completely, Gayle changed the sheets and soaked them in the tub in the laundry room. She took to inviting men for a nooner after lunch as well as to share her room after dinner. By skipping every third nooner, she got a rotation at night. They’d all talked about their distaste for ‘love on a schedule,’ but she felt her special situation excused her.

Meanwhile, the guys were making their own preparations. Bill stripped the scrub vegetation off the garden he considered ideal. It was nearly at the top of the hill, but hidden from anyone outside the property by trees. They thought of the house as sitting on top of the hill, but actually the barn was slightly higher.

With the help of Trent, he leveled a section and lay out a cross. The main axis was north-south, with another axis east-west. He figured that if Gayle was going to screw six guys in a row outdoors, he ought to provide something for her comfort.

The guys, all the guys, were on an e-mail discussion. They agreed with his plan to use two air mattresses. She would lie on one in the usual way, and the other would be on the cross section below her hips. He dug a very shallow trench to hold the lower mattress so that her hips would be elevated, but only slightly. There would be two bonfires at the east and west sides to give light and heat (and to make it even more like a pagan ritual).

Val thought in terms of costume. Certainly Gayle, as the priestess or sacrifice or whatever, should be appropriately dressed. For the main event, the appropriate dress would be stark naked. Still, you don’t start off like that. Among the twin-bed sheets on hand were a few that were pure white. Val took one. She didn’t ask; these were the common property of the guys, and the guys were getting what they wanted from this ritual. In Val’s observation, guys were interested in sex, competition, beer, and food in that order. They were going to get competitive screwing. The only way it could be better for them would be if they were served beer.

She practiced draping the sheet on Gayle. It worked better with a fold to bring the longer segment to mid-thigh. It would go under one shoulder and be attached over the other, sort of like a toga. For the attachment, she used a mini-clamp of the type that Greg sometimes used instead of paper clips.

Sharon bought a hospital-style thermometer. Since she was on days, she trained Val to take Gayle’s temperature every morning before breakfast.

One evening at dinner, Sharon tried to sketch out how they could select the next man for Gayle.

Greg Stewart said, “Y’know, it doesn’t have to be that complicated. What do we want? We want each guy not only to have an equal chance of being first, but also an equal chance of being second, or third, or last. Well, set us up in a cycle. Let’s say in alpha order on first names. Bruce follows Bill, but Bill follows Wayne. Then, you select the first by lottery. That immediately shows each guy’s order.”

“Seems to put me last,” Wayne said.

“Only if Bill is selected. If Steve is selected, you’re third and I’m last. It’s like the clock; one comes after twelve.”

“Afternoon becomes evening,” Val said. “Evening becomes night. Night becomes morning, and morning becomes...”

“Electra!” They all said it together, but the tension was broken. Nobody could see how Greg’s suggestion favored him, so it was adopted.

“You’re brilliant,” Greg whispered in Val’s ear as they left for the living room. “Care to discuss this privately tonight?”

“Oh, sure.”

At the first commercial break, Greg went up and made his night-time preparations. Downstairs again, he sat beside Val. Making out with the woman with whom you planned to spend the night was not that frequent, After all, you could go up early. Neither was it that unusual. The Crew had rules, but they didn’t like unnecessary ones.

This time, he played with Val’s hair. Then he settled an arm around her so that his hand rested on her tit. “Don’t,” he whispered into her ear when she put her hand on his thigh. “Let me do it.” He kissed her ear, and then he tickled it with his beard.

He’d spent the early afternoon with Gayle, and normally he wouldn’t have pursued another woman for the night. He had, however, been thinking of some diversions, and when he was nearly sated was the time to try them out. Then, too, Val was the woman for it unless he wanted to explain everything. Val was always willing to follow his lead.

When the news ended, they turned off the set and went upstairs. Sharon -- who had to rise early to get to the hospital before six -- and Bill had gone up hours earlier. Steve and he changed to flip-flops and got their night bags. The other three settled down in front of the flat screen for even more TV. Val had left her door open, and he went in and hung his robe on the back of the door. He turned on the lamp.

“We could have gone up after Bill and Sharon,” Val said when she’d come in and closed the door. “You seemed to spend close to two hours simply turning me on.”

“Just laying a foundation. Tonight, I want to see how many times I can turn you on. After all, in another two years, you’re going to have to come six times publicly. Ought to have a little private practice first, no?”

“I’m not sure that a public ritual is necessary. With the cycle you’ve set up, I could entertain three guys in my room one night and the other three the next night. You’ve seen me come three times in a row.”

“Well, before you plan to suppress the ritual too far,” Greg said, “you should look at how Gayle handles it and at how the guys respond to that. Are you telling me that you’re not ready for my experiment?”

“I think I should have a safe word. Scaramouche?”

“You always pick that. I don’t think you could say it in extremis.”

“Well, you’d know damn well that I didn’t say it by accident.”

When he twirled his finger, Val obediently turned around. He took off her sweatshirt and unhooked her bra. When he had his own sweatshirt covering his face, she whirled around and licked his nipple.

“Sauce for the gander,” she said.

“You don’t grow enough whiskers.” He lifted her and laid her on the bed. He spent minutes kissing her breasts and more minutes tickling them with his beard. He got her jeans open, and tickled down her taut belly. He penetrated her navel with his tongue.

Turning her over, he pulled the jeans and the panties down to her ankles, where he was stopped by the tennies she still wore. With one hand on her calf and the other on the small of her back, he kissed the inside of her knee. She kicked, but her ankles were tied together by the jeans.

He kissed up the back of her thigh, well aware that the beard was tickling and scratching between her thighs. When he got to the crease where the leg joins the ass, his chin was right against her pussy lips. When she lay like this, her ass looked like two bubbles. He bit gently at the top of one of the bubbles. The muscle was covered by a layer of woman-fat, but it was a thin, firm layer.

As he continued to kiss up her back, he shifted his hands to her ass and her neck. He let one finger of the hand holding her ass down slide down to where it touched her pussy lips. Then, it was between them in her wetness!

When she stiffened, he kept the finger on her pussy lips. If she relaxed, he delved deeper and stroked her clit. Meanwhile, he kissed up her backbone. When he reached her neck, her stretched his mouth to take the back of her neck in. With that love bite, his strokes on her clit became regular. Soon, she was writhing and gasping.

“One,” he counted mentally, and he removed mouth and hand.

When Val rolled over on her back, he decided that she had mostly recovered. He removed her shoes and socks and got the jeans and panties fully off. He got on the end of the bed, and she spread her legs and reached up to him. Instead of going into her arms, he bent down to brush his beard across her upper thighs. When her muscles tensed, he spread her pussy lips and took his first lick.

Val shivered. She wasn’t cold, though; fire shot through her. Despite her recent release, she felt herself tense like the spring of an old-fashioned alarm clock. Every lick, every scratch of a whisker, every sucking kiss to her lips, was winding her tighter. Then he licked her clit, licked it again and again.

The spring explodes. Pieces of her spirit fly in all directions as her body thrashes under him.

When her body stilled and before her spirit had a chance to return, his mouth was on her again.

The spring was rewinding, tightening. She felt aching muscles, newly released from unbearable tension, tense again. She groaned, but his mouth did not relent. Instead, his arms snaked under her legs and up her sides. His hands cupped her breasts, and his fingers strummed across her nipples. She felt herself stiffen. She needed him in her, but she had forgotten how to tell him. He pinched her nipples at the same moment that he sucked her clit.

She breaks into fragments. Two of those fragments are her nipples, which ache.

One is her pussy, which he is still kissing. She struggles for a way to save herself, to get him in her to ease all those itches inside.

“Scar ... scara ... Scaramouche!”

Instantly, mouth and hands abandoned her. Instead of moving up over her, he moved aside. He weighed down the bed beside her, but they did not touch.

“Greg,” she said, “I need you.”

“Well, that isn’t what a safe word means.” He got out of bed, but instead of leaving her in her need, He was removing the rest of his clothes and putting them on a chair. “A safe word means to stop everything. Maybe we need another sort of word.”

“What we need, certainly what I need, is your cock in me.”

Greg had what he wanted, and he had been far from indifferent to her arousing reactions. He turned her over on her side facing away from him. She didn’t resist much, and he she was a slip of a girl. He switched off the lamp.

“Okay,” he said and got in bed behind her. “Help me in.” Between the two of them, they got him inside her entrance from back there. He easily slid in deep. She was wetter than ever before, and the clasp around him was not the hardness of muscle but the puffiness of aroused woman-flesh.

He took two strokes in and out, glorying in the warmth, in the wetness, in Val’s firm motions against him. Then he controlled himself and lay still.

“The question is less how to get the lottery fair,” he said, “than how to get everybody to see that it’s fair. ‘Transparency,’ as the politicians say.”

“What?” Val tried to turn around, but he’d anticipated that, and had a hand on her shoulder to keep her in position. She soon relaxed, obviously realizing that turning meant that he’d come out. He was enjoying this discussion with his cock marinating in her juices, and she had asked for him to be in her.

“I suggested coming here to discuss this further, and you agreed, agreed enthusiastically.”

“I thought you were using a euphemism,” she said.

“Isn’t this the best method of discussion that we’ve ever had?”

“Yeah, but could you move occasionally.”

“I’ll have to,” he admitted. “The feeling is exquisite, but the only thing that will keep me stiff is motion.” He demonstrated by withdrawing a bit and thrusting home until his thighs were pressed hard against her ass.

“Oh, yes.” She hugged him with her pussy.

“Well, I’ll print out a sheet with all our names. It might as well be in forty or fifty points; it’ll still fit on one sheet of paper. They’ll be double spaced, and each name will start s line. Then you’ll cut them out with the paper cutter, though it’ll be only one sheet. The result will be long strips -- strips of all the same length and width -- each containing a single name. Do we have a hat? It couldn’t belong to one of the guys.”

“We have Tupperware in the kitchen,” she said.

He gave her another stroke to reward her for the thinking. Of course, it rewarded him, too, but he’d been doing lots of thinking. Those have lids? Bring it. You fold the slips of paper so they are identical. Probably they should be long enough that the first fold doesn’t cross any type. Then fold them again so that the part that was blank is on the outside. I doubt very much that Gayle could tell a name from the other side of the paper, but it’s better than no one else can either.”

He stroked almost all the way out, then in until he couldn’t go further. Then he continued, “Out there, for the time of choosing, you hand each one of them, each guy including me, his own name. Tell them to fold the slips back the way they were. Show them the empty container. Those things are translucent, and when they are empty, they really look empty. Then each guy puts his own name in the container, you cover it and give it an enthusiastic shake, Gayle chooses one slip, preferably without being able to see in the top. She reads it out, and you show it to everybody.”

“You’ve really thought this out.” She gave him another hug with her pussy. He stroked out and in. “Have you thought about anything else?”

Had he thought about the rest of the ritual, about his fucking Gayle with the whole Crew watching? Well, some things shouldn’t be shared with another woman, even in the Crew.

“No. Talk’s finished. Not everything is.” He slipped his left hand between her waist and the mattress. She rolled a bit, and he got a grip on her hipbones. He drew back and thrust into her, drew back and thrust into her. She matched his pace.

He reached around and got a finger on her clit. When his need came close to urgency, he stroked her clit in time with their motions. She stiffened, and his was the only motion.

“Ah!” she said, and he felt her tighten around his cock.

He pulls her back by her hipbones and stabs as deep into her as he can get. Then he pumps all the lust that this evening has stored up into her.

When he relaxed, she lay still in front of him. Her last, fluttering contraction squeezes him out. When he moves his hand up to her tit, the nipple is still firm.

However they moved in the night, he still had Val in his arms when her alarm woke him. He turned on the lamp and got out of bed before she could grab him. “I shall return,” he said. He got into his flip-flops and robe and went to the john. She wore the same when she walked behind him while he was still pissing. He got back to her room, though, and into bed while she was still in the john. He found her cell. The time was 5:20. Sharon would be gone already, and no one else would be up. The alarm was set for 5:00, and was a single-time alarm. He put the cell back where it had been before Val returned. He’d spent the evening in her cunt, but looking at the setting on her cell was an invasion of privacy.

He rolled to the other side of the bed when she came in. Agreeably, she got in on his right.

“I thought you were trying to escape me,” she said.

“Only temporarily. You wouldn’t have enjoyed a wet bed.” Come here! He hadn’t brushed his teeth, but then neither had she. Still, the kiss was worth the taste. He swept the sheet off her and got her arms over her head. That pushed her tits out, and she liked that. He got both of her wrists in his right hand.

He rolled over far enough to kiss her tit. At the same time, he swept his hand down her body to her pussy. He cupped her and leaned over farther to suck her other nipple. For a while, he stroked her and sucked on her while her arousal started to soar.

“Greg,” she said when she stiffened. “Now!”