The Pat Wong Diaries:

Back home that night, Harry and I hardly exchanged a word. When we got back to our bedroom, we embraced for a long time and whispered sweet words to each other. I felt very tender towards Harry and held him tight for the loving husband he had been. Harry kissed me in the ears and smelled my neck and kept repeating, "I love you so much, my handsome wife."

The morning after, we woke up smiling even more broadly. No feelings of guilt or remorse. On the contrary, we both felt proud and satisfied with what we had done. We were both basking in the warm glow of pure truth and savoring the sweet taste of full freedom. Carol came by around 9:30 in the morning to check on us and brought us a fresh pot of strong coffee and crispy warm croissants (she knew Harry loved croissants). Later in the morning, Paul also came by with pink roses and sat with us for a few minutes to make sure that we were feeling alright.

"You never know how people feel the morning after," he said, holding both of our hands and looking at us square in the face with his intelligent eyes.

In the afternoon, Stephen dropped by to deliver a copy of the DVD he had recorded. We had both forgotten that Stephen had indeed recorded the whole session and so were delighted when he handed the DVD to us, saying, a large grin on his broad face, "enjoy it, it is very revealing."

And indeed it was. Stephen was a masterful videographer and knew how to frame what he was capturing. Instead of showing unimaginative biological close-ups of penises in vaginas and asses, he made sure to keep his shots wide to maintain context and to always keep the faces of the people fully in view. The quality of the sound was also astounding so that we could hear every word that Harry, Paul, or I said during our long session.

That afternoon, Harry spent it masturbating loudly as he watched the three-hour long DVD of Paul mercilessly making love to me, then to him, and then Harry penetrating Paul. He paused the DVD at several points and brought me over to point something particular out to me.

"Look at the expression on your face, Pat, and look at mine," he said at one point, pausing at a scene were Paul and I had locked eyes while Paul slowly and gently lifted my legs over his shoulders, preparing to enter me, and where Harry was looking straight at me, smiling warmly, almost proudly, and holding my hand in his hand.

"Look at the love in my eyes and look at how you and Paul are looking at each other, like animals." At which point, he spit loudly on his hand, closed his eyes, pumped his penis, and said in formal Chinese, "A woman will give all of her attention to the man who is penetrating her, you can rest assured." And then he ejaculated quietly, almost privately, biting his lower lip, his nostrils expanded, while shaking his head, as if saying, "You just can't change the ways of a woman -- it's her nature."

By evening, Harry had ejaculated four times and was exhausted, but kept playing the DVD, as if obsessed. He especially loved the scenes where he was screwing Paul and was astounded by the wild expression on his face and the forcefulness with which he penetrated Paul.

"This is very educational," he said several times while watching himself penetrate Paul. "I am really learning a lot! I don't remember myself throwing my head left and right and squealing like a puppy. And yet, here it is. Amazing...."

That night with Paul marked an important turning point for Harry and me, and that week during which Paul penetrated all of us ladies and some of our husbands marked the end of our "old lives" and the beginning of brand new ones. It was as though our lives before that week had been trains running with wheels off the tracks. And then, out of the blue, some overwhelming force had decided to pick us all up and put our wheels back in place. And so, we have been running smoothly since then. We no longer live in isolation, in fear and confusion. We have formed a beautiful community of husbands and wives who care about one another and so now we never have to worry about the unknown again.

Harry is still my sweet husband, but I no longer expect him to shoulder by himself the responsibility of fulfilling all of my erotic needs. How strange that such a burden would be carelessly laid on the shoulders of one simple human being -- and laid permanently! And he no longer expects me to be his sole provider. Now, we have a full community we can turn to. Harry has eight wives, and I have eight husbands. And we always count Paul and Carol as two of our own. Paul himself insisted on taking a wedding picture with each one of his "Chinese lovelies," in full wedding gown for her and tuxedo for him. He also insisted that Carol take wedding portraits with each of our husbands. "We have to respect tradition," he explained, "and we need to honor the bonds that we are establishing with one another." And so, in his basement, Paul has dedicated a whole wall to the fourteen portraits and often sits down and masturbates while staring at them, finding in them all that he needs to trigger strong ejaculations as he shouts the names of the wives and the husbands. And on our dressers, too, we have all added two portraits to our wedding picture: the portrait with Paul and the one with Carol.

But for Paul, we were far more than mere sexual partners. He took his responsibility of fulfilling our needs very seriously and always made it a point to give us his very best whenever he was called upon to serve. Whenever we visited him in his house, he planted a small Chinese flag by his door, next to an American flag, to express his appreciation and respect for "the Chinese nation and the marvelous, delicious people of China." He also often sent each one of us a hand written card where he generously poured his feelings of affection and desire on us, never once using a dirty word. Often, he wrote no more than two or three sentences, but we could tell they were written with feeling, desire, affection, and, of course, lust. He wrote once to tall Mei, "My Dear Mei: I woke up last night panting with desire for the sound of your voice and the smell of your breath. If someone should ask you, 'who was that sinner I heard last night weeping in his sleep with yearning and desire?' Your answer should be -- Paul Shapin." For me, he wrote once, "My Dear Pat: I was washing myself last night and then thought of your pure heart. Every moment I have spent with you, you cleansed me and purged me from all this evil in me. And if you should wonder who is the most thankful creature on this earth, rest assured that the answer will always be -- Paul Shapin."

That the arrangement we had reached with Paul was good and moral and healthy was never something that any of us ever doubted once. The husbands were especially convinced that what they had with Paul was wholesome and right. How could it be anything but good, they thought. Their wives were now smiling and happy, their eyes clear white and twinkling. The petty squabbles that used to needlessly poison our lives had vanished after our night with Paul, as did the moodiness and the lecturing and the haranguing and the mindless moralizing. All of a sudden, we all lived in easy peace and careless tranquility. The wives now slept through the night, night after night, and woke up smiling and happy. And the husbands no longer fell victim to sudden bouts of absurd moodiness. How could any of this be anything but good and moral?

Paul fully understood the change he had brought to our lives and was overjoyed by it. And so, he was always careful to make sure that his lust and sexual fire did not spoil the balance he had struck for us and with us and took good care to take his steps with utmost deliberation.

At first, more often than not, it was the husband who drove the wife to her meeting with Paul. And more often than not, the husband would come in to chat with Paul and ask him for advice on something or other (and there was always something to seek advice over). That Paul was going to be screwing the wife in a few minutes, was going to kiss her and penetrate her, and do with her as he wished, swallow her saliva and insert his penis in her anus, and make her cry and crave for him to ejaculate in her mouth -- all of that was reduced to mere innocent play in the mind of the husbands. It was as though the husband was dropping his wife to the hairdresser where she could treat herself to some silly hairdo and some unnecessary manicure.

As the months passed by and we became convinced that the balance that we had collectively struck was indeed solid and could not easily be disturbed, our visits with Paul became more frequent and less controlled. Paul would occasionally pop in randomly on one of the couples and spend a few hours of sex with them, which included, as we became comfortable, double penetrations and even homosexual coitus if the man was so inclined. (Harry always made it a point to have sex with Paul when Paul visited us.) A few times, Paul even "went on a rampage," as Harry described it, visiting every one of the seven couples in the span of an evening, and making it a point to ejaculate in every house he visited. When Paul was in the full grip of such a rampage, we would phone each other breathlessly, telling each other where he had been and how he was feeling. (When Paul would arrive at home after one of these rampages, usually around one or two in the morning, Harry and I would peek out from the darkness of our bedroom window and watch him stagger out of his car, his pockets stuffed with the pantyhose and socks he had snatched from his mates like so many trophies, swaying as if drunk from all the sex he had gorged himself on all night long.)

Other times, we the ladies took the initiative and two or three of us would decide to call Paul and "go out on a date." The only rule was that we informed our husbands whenever we were going to be with Paul -- a rule that Paul himself insisted that we scrupulously obey out of respect to our "matrimonial vows," as he liked to put it. And Paul never refused us, and would take us to bars and nightclubs, and even to museums if we asked him to, and every moment he spent with us, he beamed with radiant satisfaction over the simple fact that he was surrounded by us. During such outings, he derived a great deal of pleasure from tending to the smallest of our needs, opening doors for us, taking our coats, buying us drinks, ordering food for us, explaining something or other to us, and listening to us with complete, rapt attention and making us laugh and feel good about ourselves.

But by far what the husbands enjoyed the most was sitting down quietly and watching Paul in charge of taking on all of the wives at once in one of his orgies with us. Paul was a seasoned sexual maestro, kissing and penetrating, and gently flying from one pussy to the next, gently squeezing breasts and smelling and licking ass holes, and making sure that all of the ladies got the attention they were seeking and that they all, by the end of the night, would be fully satisfied. He knew when to be tender and gentle and knew when it was right to become aggressive and even violent, spanking asses, fisting an inflamed vagina, and glaring with strong lust. During such orgies, the men sat quietly, masturbating with serious looks on their faces, as Paul gave free reign to his animal desires. (Harry told me later that what excited him the most were the strange sounds of sex that the women were uttering, and the looks of lust on their faces. And what turned Harry the most was watching us wag our tongues left and right, "like dangerous old lizards in heat," as he liked to put it.)

What most endeared Paul to us the wives was how he treated our husbands. He treated them like his brothers and cared for them and about them and their wellbeing. He was always there whenever they needed him, giving them legal and financial advice they would not otherwise have been able to buy, even if they had the money. The men, on their part, grew to admire Paul and to respect him and even to feel affection for him. They admired his intelligence, his energy, his dedication -- but most importantly, they appreciated how he treated them like equals and never saw them as the strange, inarticulate Chinese men that many of their American friends and colleagues saw them as.

Of course, all the men saw in Paul an unparalleled sexual mentor and looked to him for advice on how to make the most of their sensuality. When they approached him to help them fulfill a long standing fantasy of theirs to have coitus with a large black woman, he immediately obliged and brought them Samantha, the wife of his old school buddy Martin. And he did so the very next day, astounding them by presenting them in his very bedroom with a large black woman in purple lingerie and a large Afro hairdo, wearing heavy makeup and strong perfume. Samantha was smiling when the men entered the bedroom and laughed outright when she saw how nervous they were. She welcomed each man with a "Hello sweetie" or "Hi baby," and warmly hugged and kissed them before fully engaging them. And the men had their fill and enjoyed themselves beyond their expectations, each one spending as much time as he needed to ejaculate inside Samantha. (Samantha's only condition was to have the men ejaculate inside of her and that she would keep the semen inside of her throughout the night, declaring that large amounts of semen from various men at the same time was the surest way to fully cleanse a pussy of its harmful bacteria.)

And Paul never grudged his men advice about sex. He taught them how to fully control their erections and ejaculations and spent endless hours patiently coaching them and mentoring them. For weeks on end, he would gather them in his basement for "control sessions," where he would subject them for whole weekends, starting from Friday night until Sunday afternoon, to long sessions of pornography and collective masturbation. He taught them the proper way to hold their cock, how to stroke it and how to pace the pumping to maintain full control. Wen, the expert and dedicated masturbator among the men, was the one who listened most intently, taking careful notes and asking intelligent questions.

To teach them first hand that sex is "is a matter of will and lust," Paul would have the men watch very erotic scenes for hours but would not allow them to touch themselves. As they watched, he would make very astute comments, often pausing the video to point out something that revealed the state of mind of the man or the woman. He would pick up a simple raise of the eyebrow to underscore that the woman is "clearly not acting and is now fully in the grip of sex," or would catch a hasty gesture by a girl opening her legs to comment that the "girl is obviously very grateful to have been selected for the scene and wants to do a good job," or, "look, she is clearly jealous that the other woman had much larger breasts." All of these comments flared up the lust in the men and made them sigh with frustration over the fact that they could not relieve themselves with an immediate ejaculation. But Paul's instructions were clear and the men followed them with unquestioning obedience. (Wen, always trying to emulate the master and to please him, once tried to engage on his own in criticism of a sequence, but got so overwhelmed by the sexual scene he was describing and the sound of his voice as he verbalized his most inner thoughts that he choked up, grabbed his cock and masturbated himself to an ejaculation. That was the only instance that any of the men broke one of Paul's rules.)

"Why on earth ejaculate when you can prolong your enjoyment by keeping yourself from the full release."

The men nodded in agreement. Harry also nodded and outright laughed. He had already had that conversation with Paul several times and long ago and was already something of an expert, and Paul made sure to showcase Harry as often as he could to prove to the men that they could indeed attain that level of control if they just tried.

And they all eventually did attain that level of control and were even able to command an erection on very short notice, and ultimately, to ejaculate when they wanted. And to mark their graduation, Paul had them abstain for a whole week, and then had them masturbate in front of us for ten minutes, and upon cue, ordered them to ejaculate into a large bowl. The ejaculations were all very thick and powerful. Once the men were done, Paul ejaculated into the bowl himself (he amazingly took out a limp cock from his pants, made it hard with three simple pumps, and then ejaculated upon the fourth pump, discharging the largest dose of snow white semen). He then declared that he was not about to let such precious semen to go to waste and announced that he was going to make us a delicious semen omelet and that we were about to taste the most tasty dish of our lives. And indeed, it was the most uniquely tasty dish anyone of us had ever eaten.