Chapter 6

The sisters’ leader was testing me. Earlier she had wanted to know if nudity by the colony’s women would bother me. Now she was testing the sisters to find out if my nudity would bother them; quite clever actually.

I’d done my share of public speaking over the years, but it was different this time. There’s a certain something about standing naked in front of an audience which compels honesty. I decided to give a very brief and unvarnished account of my life thus far. I stood in thought with my head bowed for a minute or so.

Two things worked for me during this interlude; the first was an old showman’s trick: keep the audience in suspense by never starting on time.

The second was a political trick: use any extended silence to focus your mind and gather your wits. Show your audience that you’re thoughtful and caring, or as my dad used to say, “Sincerity is everything. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.” I was going to use the body language of my audience to gauge my reception while I spoke.

“Hello. My name is Dennis Nathan Richards, and I was born in New Haven, Connecticut. I am a retired Vietnam Veteran with a one hundred percent unemployable disability from Agent Orange exposure while in Saigon. I served four years in the United States Air Force, mostly in Japan and Vietnam.”

“What did you do after you got out of service?” Alice asked.

“I joined a local branch of the Vietnam Veterans Against the War and spent the next three years fighting to end the war. Then the war ended, and I joined the Army.”

“Wow!” said one of the sisters.

“Why?” Sheila asked with a concerned smile as her puzzled eyes searched my face for something she couldn’t see.

“I was broke. One day, I happened across a bunch of Army reservists doing weekend duty at the Mall. They were recruiting and desperate to make quota. We got to talking. The Captain told me if I joined that weekend, I could enlist as a Sergeant E-5 and I would draw pay at that rank during the two weeks of active duty at Fort Drum in New York. Because I was prior service, I didn’t need to go through Army Basic Training. It sounded like a good idea at the time. I needed the coin. I enlisted.

I searched the faces of the sisters while I spoke as I tried to access my ability to engage each woman at a deeper and more positive level. I was, in essence, trying to seduce a room full of naked lesbians. Talk about your lost cause.

“You can stop me at any time if you want to ask a question. I would rather this be a dialogue and not a monolog,” I said in an effort to break the ice.

The invitation to ask questions resulted in one brown-haired woman tentatively raising her hand. I asked her to remind me of her name, and she said, “My name is Amelia. One question ... you said you got a monthly disability check from the VA. What kind of disability? You seem to be in good shape.”

“Good question, Amelia. My disability is mostly invisible. Type II diabetes because of exposure to Agent Orange while in Vietnam. And, more specifically, severe neuropathy in my right hand and in my feet, which is a side-effect of diabetes.”

“What are the effects of your neuropathy?” Amelia asked as a follow-up question.

“Neuropathy is nerve damage as a result of too much sugar in my blood. In my case, the result is numbness and tingling in my hands and feet. The other effect is rather embarrassing,” I said as I paused. I was not sure how much detail I wanted to get into.

“Don’t stop there. Please explain,” Amelia asked as she pressed me for more information.

“Well, sometimes I, um, it’s difficult to get it up and keep it up,” I reluctantly volunteered to the group.

Amelia and several of her sisters nodded. I noticed that Sheila and Alice were paying very close attention to the conversation.

“The result sometimes is a limp dick, for lack of better words, when the nerves connecting my prick to my brain shut down due to high sugar levels,” I answered.

Several sisters responded with stifled laughter or nervous giggles and additional follow-up questions. Sex is always an interesting conversation. I had their attention, at least.

“Can you still orgasm?” Alice asked with a look of concern on her face.

“Yes. Even when flaccid, a guy can still ejaculate. It just takes a little more effort, and it’s not nearly as much fun,” I explained.

“I don’t understand. Darlene says you’re a fantastic lover. How can that be if you don’t get hard?” Alice asked. I heard several sisters say, “I was wondering the same thing.”

“My goal or mission as a lover is to provide the necessary emotional and physical stimulation required for my partner in achieving an orgasm. I do that orally,” I said.

Standing stark naked in front of a table full of attractive and nude women while talking about orgasms and oral sex was having unintended consequences. I could feel my semi-flaccid penis begin to stiffen. There was no way to hide my growing arousal.

“I thought you said that you couldn’t get hard, but you apparently can,” one of the women observed.

“I get an erection sometimes, and sometimes I don’t. It tends to be a hit or miss affair. My prick has a mind of its own, and I can never depend on it to respond as I want it to. It’s all rather embarrassing and frustrating,” I explained as I shared far more information than I wanted.

Looking at several sisters’ body language, I saw signs of what looked like sexual responses from about half of them. Nipples had slightly hardened, many had leaned forward a bit more than usual, their faces relaxed and smiling or friendly neutral. Body postures showed a focused interest. At some primal level, pheromones floated like mist in the air, and my body was responding.

I looked down at my gradually stiffening member; I covered myself with my hand. “Sorry about that, but all this talk about sex and stuff seems to be having an effect on my hardware, as I’m sure everyone can see. It never seems to respond as I want it to, as I said, and a public boner is rather awkward,” I explained. I could feel the heat of a blush burn across my body.

Darlene came to my rescue. She walked up to me and gave me a big hug and lingering kiss, and then turned to face her companions while holding my free hand. “I think Dennis is thinking about the lovemaking session we’ll have when we go to bed,” she said with a foxy grin.

She started to rub my backside while she stood next to me, much to her sisters’ amusement. The sensation of her warm hand massaging my bare behind did nothing to diminish my arousal. I continued to stiffen to about three-quarters erect, a little less than four inches, under her playful touch.

Looking out over my audience of colony members, I noticed that they all paid close attention to the interplay between Darlene and me. I was at a loss for words and didn’t know how, or if, I should continue or try to beat a hasty retreat.

“Don’t be embarrassed by having a hard-on, Dennis. It’s a natural event. We all get sexually aroused from time to time; it is just that your arousal is slightly more noticeable than ours is,” Sheila said.

Her statement got a chorus of chuckles and laughter from the sisters and did much to ease the tension that had been building in the room.

“I’ll put it to a vote if it makes you feel better, however, Dennis. By a show of hands, how many of us would like Dennis to proceed with his self-introduction?” Sheila said as she raised her hand.

A unanimous show of hands joined with Sheila. The sisters wanted the show to go on. The vote left me both relieved and annoyed at the same time. I was glad I hadn’t offended them, but I was still several zip codes away from my comfort zone. Exhibitionism had never been my thing.