Years ago I was working as a consultant for the State Department of Mental Health in Tennessee. Being a consultant meant I traveled the western part of the state helping rural communities set-up vocational training programs for the disabled. Being a traveling consultant also meant I worked out of an office group that was comprised mostly of social workers traveling the same area. When I counted heads one day, I realized that there were twelve women, one gay guy, and me.
Jeffery was the gay guy. He was a great guy to be around from day one, a guy who didn't hide or flaunt his sexual orientation, a guy with a great sense of humor, a guy with a steady hand for eye-liner and mascara. He was a friend to all of us and a bunch of fun to be around. The twelve women made for a diverse group, but all of them were fun, too. We had some good times, all of us together, but we never had an after-work party until Carol started working with us. Carol changed a number of things in our group, all of those changes most definitely for the better.
Carol had moved to Memphis when her husband, Rick, was transferred by his company from Detroit, Michigan. Both of them were a bit startled by the southern lifestyle, but they were stubborn enough to want to have a good time in the ways they were accustomed to. They sailed and water skied and did all the outdoors things they liked. And they looked for ways to do the indoors things, too, the indoors things they missed about their circle of friends in Detroit. Carol would laugh and tell most anyone that she and Rick were swingers. Her openness always turned heads, but she didn't seem to care. Actually, it seemed she enjoyed the reactions.
It was after a week-long trip when I came back to the office to find that Carol was having a party at her house on Friday night. Rick was out of town, she said, so she was having the whole office group over to her house, no declines, no excuses, everybody was coming, she said. And oddly enough, everyone agreed. Timing is everything, I firmly believe, and perhaps it was in terms of Carol's party. At the time of the party I had recently become divorced, so I was going to the party single, not that I had designs on any of the women in the group, but over the years there had been more than a few sexual innuendoes. (Like the time Shawanda asked me if I liked to eat black pussy. She was a tall, strong black woman and she was more than open about her desire to experience a white man.)
Paperwork in the office went slowly on that Friday. I tried to make some sense of the giggles and laughs from the offices down the hall, but I wasn't successful. Things seemed okay, even after Carol stuck her head into my office around five o'clock and asked me if I was, "coming tonight." Sure, I told her, I'll be there. "That wasn't what I asked," she told me, "Are you cuming tonight?" She laughed; I laughed. And she winked at me before she left to giggle her way down the hall.
I've never believed in being fashionably late to parties, but I've never been comfortable being one of the first arrivals either. When I came in the door, everyone was there and already drinking wine and scarfing down the munchies in the kitchen. Everyone either waved or said hello to me. It was Dorothy, Dorothy who was beginning to put her plans together for retirement, who came to me first. When Dorothy looked me up directly, she usually had something on her mind to ask me. It didn't take long for her to work into what was on her mind.
"John," she finally began, "Do you know who John Holmes is?"
"Yes," I told her, "Why do you ask?"
"Well, Carol was talking about some movies of his she had. And some of the others are trying to get her to show them. Do you know what kind of movies they are?"
"Porn," I told her smiling, "Classics, most people say."
"Porn?" she stammered a bit, "As in pornography?"
"Yep. You need another glass of wine?"
"Yes, please," Dorothy told me as her eyes begin to glaze over in thought, "Yes, more wine."
I took her glass and began to work my way over to the kitchen table where several bottles of wine were already open. Carol caught me there and put her arms around me from behind to hug me.
"I'm so glad you came," she whispered into my ear as she hugged and I poured.
"And it made such a mess," I chuckled.
She laughed and turned me loose so I could turn to her. We smiled at each other and she stood on her toes to kiss me softly on the lips.
"I never worry about those messes," she purred.
Someone called her from the den and she smiled and turned to find them. I followed her at a bit of distance and found almost everyone scattered around the room on the couch or chairs or the floor. The large screen television was the center of attention. The VCR was ready and waiting to play as Julie shuffled through some tapes in front of her.
"Carol, which one should we see first?" she asked.
Carol walked over and picked one from the pile and handed it to Julie. "Don't bother with the plot or anything. Fast forward about halfway into the movie and let it play. There should be some action every five minutes or so through the movie."
Julie did as Carol suggested as the room chattered and laughed and waited. When Julie hit play on the machine, the television jumped to a close-up of a huge cock gliding in and out of an obviously distressed pussy.
"Holy shit," someone mumbled from the couch as the room fell silent.
Jeffery was sitting beside Cindy on the floor. I couldn't help but wonder if he liked what he was seeing, but in a moment it was clear when he blurted, "Amazing."
"Look," Julie said with excitement, "He is one skinny guy. His dick is bigger around than his forearm."
The room laughed and giggled as John Holmes slid in and out of the unseen woman like a commuter train. "How big, I wonder," someone said.
"Fourteen inches," Carol told them.
"Damn, I could never…" someone began.
Carol fast forwarded to another scene and let the machine play. A bleached blonde was licking Holmes this time, his cock only semi-hard, it seemed. When she took the tip in her mouth, the room moaned collectively.
"He's a freak," Dorothy offered from her seat. She seemed transfixed. "And not every woman could take him."
"Men are different," Carol began carefully, "Very different. Being social scientists and naturally curious," she went on over the laughs, "Perhaps we could conduct our own private study group here. Why don't we see if John and Jeffery will show us their equipment and let us do some analysis."
Carol found my eyes in the crowd and I could see the dare in them even from across the room. She did the same to Jeffery.
"I'd be more embarrassed then they would," Dorothy laughed honestly. Others agreed with her.
"Okay," Carol went on, "Supposed we blindfold them and make them promise not to touch anyone. Would that work?"
The room just laughed and hooted as I looked at Jeffery. He smiled and shrugged, so I laughed at Carol and said, "Why not?"
Being a good host, Carol quickly came up with two black scarves. The room continued to hoot and giggle and she led both me and Jeffery to the center of the room, turning each of us to face the group, and then securing the black scarves around each of our eyes. I have to say the blindfolds worked. I couldn't see anything.
Someone put music on the stereo and I think the Holmes movies were still playing on the television, nevertheless Carol was conducting the show, telling them all to relax for the unveiling, and suggesting they take notes if they thought it necessary. Jeffery's pants came down first. Or at least I think so. The room stilled for a second, then burst into a buzz. Nice underwear, someone said, then the room was quiet again.
