Paul never mentioned me directly in his kinky discussions and presentations to Harry, but the implications were clear. Paul was offering Harry a quid-pro-quo, where he would give Harry free access to Carol in exchange for his access to me. The men he allowed to sleep with his wife all had a similar deal with him, Paul explained, and so far, it had worked out marvelously.
"The secret," Paul went on, "was to make sure that you and your wife and everyone involved is completely in the know: no secrets, no betrayals. Just boil it down to simple, innocent sex and no more."
Harry listened intently. He had been visiting Paul every evening now, spending an hour or so with him before dinner. He viewed his interactions with Paul as an education of sorts on a whole new fascinating universe of kink he hadn't suspected existed in the peaceful, wholesome world of suburbia. He took notes and paid attention, asking probing questions and nodding as Paul spoke.
"You couldn't do this if you were a young couple. Not mature enough," Paul explained. "You have to have been married at least ten years, and even then, you have to have matured enough to be able to understand fully that marriage is about love and commitment, not about sex, and that sex is a separate parallel world of animal impulses. If you and your wife can separate the two in your mind, then you can engage in what we are doing. Before that, it's dangerous."
It didn't occur to Harry that Paul was selling him on a concept until I pointed it out to him.
"He wants us to join his clan," I explained to Harry, who was going over his notes as we sat to drink Jasmine tea after dinner.
Harry raised his eyebrows and took off his thick glasses. I had genuinely caught him by surprise, it seemed.
"Hmmm.... You are right," he said. "He is pitching me."
"Has he offered you directly to sleep with Carol?"
"No! I would have told you." Harry's energetic denial meant that he had at least thought about it.
"Would you say yes -- if he had?" I asked.
"No, I would not. I would first talk to you about it." Harry was sitting back, looking a little afraid.
I nodded and looked him in the eyes.
"He has shown me tapes of him and Carol making love. And also tapes of the other men screwing her in their bedroom."
"Did he show you tapes of him with the women of the husbands?" I asked.
"No, he has not."
"I need you to watch those tapes and to study them carefully. And I need you to imagine me in one of those tapes so that you can get a sense of how you would feel, watching Paul penetrate me."
Harry nodded and hunched back on his notebook and started taking notes.
The next evening, before leaving for Paul's, I reminded Harry of his task, but he clearly didn't need the reminder. He nodded and smiled. "I will find out," he said, waving his hand as he crossed the street to Paul's house.
Paul indeed had a stack of such tapes, all cataloged and dated. Dozens of tapes, each four to six hours long. His monster cock was as shocking to watch on tape as it was in our low resolution camera, and his animal stamina was unmistakable. We had not witnessed a fluke but something he did at will. He was able to ejaculate two or three times within a half hour of sex, each ejaculation a respectable eruption in its own right. The husbands, who were all present in these shootings alongside Carol (most of the time, the husbands did the shooting themselves), never failed to grunt in astonishment and approval at the eruptions. Carol always clapped and said, "Yaay!"
"He is even more impressive than Peter North," Harry observed to me, "his cock is bigger and he comes a lot more than Peter." (Peter North was Harry's favorite male porn star and he had a large collection of Peter North DVDs that focused on the porno star's legendary ejaculations.)