66 Chapters About
33 Women
by
Michael Hemmingson
Postmodern Classics in Erotic Literature
The Obelisk Library
Smashwords Edition
2012
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Originally published in paperback by Blue Moon Books, 2003 and reprinted by Ophelia Press, 2010, as Sex Gang Women under the pen name Paul Merchant. This edition has been slightly revised.
Copyright © 2012 Michael Hemmingson
All rights reserved.
Cover photo by The Alien Stage Project, used with permission.
CONTENTS
Part One:
The Vague Language of Sex
Part Two:
Half a Dozen Romances
Part Three:
Travel Light
Part Four:
A Moment for Allison
Part Five:
In Brief, a Few More Women
Part Six:
Pornography
Part Seven:
Heaven
PART ONE
THE VAGUE LANGUAGE OF SEX
People frequently comment on the emptiness in one night stands, but emptiness here has always been just another word for darkness. Blind encounters writing sonnets no one can read. Desire and pain communicated in the vague language of sex.
—Mark Z. Danielewski
House of Leaves
1.
Shella
Nick had been waiting for Shella to leave her husband all summer; now that she’d done so, and she had her own apartment, she called him on the phone and said, “Why don’t we go out now.”
“How’s your new apartment?”
“Why don’t you come over and take a look at it,” Shella said.
The place was spare when he arrived. There were a lot of unopened boxes.
Shella was wearing black jeans and a white tank top. Her hair was messy; she looked like she had just woken up.
“I took a short nap,” she said, pointing to the couch.
“Naps are good,” he said. “This is a nice apartment.”
A jet flew over, heading for the airport.
Shella winced. “Now you know why the rent is cheap.”
“You get used to it.”
“Come see the view over here,” she said. She pulled at his sleeve. They went to the bedroom. She had a view of the airport and the bay. The sun was setting. It was the end of summer; the end of summers were always good in San Diego.
They stood on the small balcony.
More jets landed at the airport. Some took off. Sailboats, yachts, and cruise boats lingered in the bay.
“Nice,” Nick said.
“Um,” Shella said.
They went back inside.
“And here’s the bed,” she said. The bed was unmade; there were three big pillows on it.
“Nice.”
She pushed some of her dark hair from her eyes and said, “Okay, Nick, look, we both like each other, there’s chemistry, we’ll wind up going to bed at some point, so why don’t we just get it over with? Why don’t we skip all the silly small talk and the uncertainties and just fuck right now and get it out of the way?”
“All right.”
They didn’t kiss. She didn’t want to kiss. Shella took off her jeans and panties and lay down on her stomach. She put a pillow under her pussy and raised her ass in the air. Nick wondered if she wanted it in the ass but her asshole didn’t look like it had ever been fucked. Her ass cheeks were round and skinny and pale. He took off his jeans and underwear and moved behind her and slipped his cock into her cunt. She gasped and he grabbed some of her dark hair and yanked on it, pulling her neck back.
“Oh yeah,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Fuck me,” she said.
“I’m fucking you.”
“Fuck my fuckhole, baby,” she said.
He fucked her fuckhole and came inside her and when they were done, they put their underwear and pants back on and went to have dinner at a steakhouse downtown. They sat in a booth and sipped martinis and waited for their food.
“This is one of my favorite restaurants,” Shella said.
“It’s a nice place,” Nick said.
During the course of the night, they were approached by two couples who said hi, how are you? and gave Nick strange looks. Both couples were friends of her husband’s, she told him. “Soon to be ex-husband,” she said.
“Do they know that?”
“I don’t think they know Jeff and I are separated.”
“That’s why they’re looking at us—me—funny,” Nick said.
“The heck with them,” Shella said, and giggled. She was getting drunk on the martinis.
They were fairly drunk when they returned to her apartment. They had some vodka tonics and got drunker. They sat in front of her TV, kissed, and she moved her head down and gave him a blow-job.
It was a good, sloppy, wet blow-job. “Your teeth,” he said a couple of times, and she giggled, and slobbered on his cock.
He pushed her head down. He came in her mouth and she coughed. She sat up and smiled at him, come dripping off her lips.
“Was that nice?” she asked.
“That was nice,” he said.
“We should do this again,” she said.
“I’d like that,” he said.
She didn’t want him to stay the night. She said she wasn’t ready for that. Nick understood.
They didn’t kiss good-night.
They shook hands.
2.
Shella
Shella was asleep in her bed; she jumped when she heard the loud knocking on her door. It was one-thirty in the morning. Her head hurt. She could still taste Nick’s semen in her mouth.
The knocking was loud. She knew that knock.
She went to the door.
“Jeff, is that you?”
“Open up,” he said.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just open up, damn you.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Open the fucking door!”
She opened the door and let him in. Her husband was large. He used to play football in high school; most of his muscle was going to fat. He looked around.
“You should’ve called first,” she said.
“I tried. You weren’t answering.”
“I was asleep. I turned the ringer off.”
He eyed her. “I was told some interesting news. I heard you were out on a date.”
“Yeah? So?”
“You were at our steakhouse with another man.”
“So what? We’re getting a divorce, remember? I can date. You can date.”
“You humiliate me in front of my friends?” he said. He was angry all right.
“Grow up.”
“Did you fuck him?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Did you suck his cock?” he asked.
“What if I did?”
“You’ll suck anyone’s cock.”
“Jeff, go home.”
“I don’t like my friends telling me they’ve seen my wife out on a date with some jackass.”
“Then tell them the truth.”
“That you’re a whore?”
“That we’re separated,” she said.
“I’m going to humiliate you now,” he said; he was very serious.
“What?’ she said, and then he slapped her across the face. The pain sent tingles up her spine, through her body. He slapped her again and she fell to the floor. Her pussy was wet.
He grabbed her hair and pushed it into his crotch. He had his fat dick out.
“Suck on it,” he said.
She tried to protest; he slapped her again. She was more than willing to suck him now. His dick grew in her mouth. She choked on it.
“Suck it you fucking worthless whore,” Jeff said, pulling her hair harder.
He pushed her face forward. He was choking her with his prick. Her gag reflex went into action. He wouldn’t let her breathe. She thought she might vomit, and hoped she would. She loved a rough face-fuck with vomit action, but Jeff would never go that far, get that kinky. She scraped her teeth against the flesh of his dick because she knew he liked that and she liked it and she broke the skin and tasted a little blood. He came in her mouth and she swallowed his thick semen.
He pushed her away and zipped up his pants.
“You filthy slut,” he said softly.
“If you were like this all the time,” Shella said, wiping her mouth, “we wouldn’t have had marital problems.”
3.
Wendy
Jeff went from Shella’s new apartment to Wendy’s old apartment two miles away. Shella didn’t know he had a girlfriend— he’d had her for some time now.
Wendy was nineteen and a freak.
She was hog-tied on the bed, just like he’d left her: naked and tanned and bruised from his previous beatings. There was a red ball-gag in her mouth. She tried to say something when she saw him. There were tears in her eyes.
“How do you feel, bitch?” Jeff said.
He moved, slowly, towards her; he cracked his knuckles.
He smiled.
He removed the ball-gag.
She coughed. “You bastard,” she said, “you asshole,” she said, “I was just about to suffocate to death!”
“You’re alive.”
“Release me!”
“Beg all you want,” he said. “Go ahead, beg.”
“You left me like this too long.”
“You loved it.”
“Where did you go?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Fuck your mouth.”
“You’ll break my jaw,” she said.
“Then I’ll break it,” he said.
He fucked her mouth like he’d fucked his wife’s mouth; it took him a while to come. Wendy was in tears, gagging like he liked a woman to gag on his dick.
He untied her and said, “I’m going.”
“Where are you going?” she said.
“I’m not coming back.”
She laughed, like he was joking.
He wasn’t joking.
“This is over.”
“Fuck you, you asshole,” Wendy said, and she meant every word.
4.
Wendy
Wendy picked up the phone and called Gene. Gene was a guy at work she’d fucked a couple of times. He was a good-looking guy. She didn’t need Jeff. Jeff could go back to his wife for all she cared.
Gene answered his cell phone.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” he said.
“What are you doing?”
“Watching TV,” he said.
“Wanna come over and play?”
“I wish I could.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m exhausted.”
“Who was she?”
“Are you naked?” he said.
“I want to be naked,” she said.
“Get naked,” he said, “now.”
She held her breath, then said, “Okay, baby, I’m naked just for you.”
“Play with your nipples,” he said, “and make them hard.”
“My nipples are hard,” Wendy said, “just thinking about your cock.”
“You want my cock.”
“I crave your cock,” she said. “Is it out? Do you have it in your hand?”
“It’s in my hand, and it’s hard.”
“Are you stroking it?”
“Yes.”
“I like watching you masturbate,” she said.
“Where this cock belongs,” he said, “is in your ass, deep in your filthy little ass.”
“Oh,” she said, “I would like that.”
“I bet you would.”
“Yum.”
“Wench.”
“Yum.”
“Are you playing with your pussy?”
“You know I am,” she said, and she was, one finger going inside her cunt.
“I want to hear you come,” Gene said.
“How are you going to make me come?”
“I would have you bent over the couch, right in front of your window,” he said, “with the lights on, so your neighbors could see, so anyone walking by could see. I would have you bent over and your ass lubed up and I’d fuck you up the ass right there in front of the window, bent over the couch.”
“Yeah?” she said, her finger circling her clit.
“Would you like that?”
“Yeah,” she said, her body shaking.
“I bet you’d like that.”
“I’d love it, baby.”
“You’d come hard with my dick in your ass,” Gene said, “I’d come right up your ass.”
“You’re an assaholic.”
“I like a good butt.”
“Maybe you’re gay.”
“I only fuck women’s butts,” he said.
“Oh shit,” she said, and came.
“That’s it,” he said softly on his cell phone.
Silence.
“Come over here,” Wendy said.
“I’m going to sleep now.”
“Bastard.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Wendy hung up.
5.
Kelly
Gene was watching a home porn tape he’d done with a thin brown-skinned woman named Rachel when Wendy called. He was jacking-off to the tape, watching Rachel licking his balls.
He decided to watch the tape he’d done with Wendy a few months ago.
He liked video-taping himself with women. Some of them would go for it; some had to get drunk or stoned first; some wouldn’t do it at all and he’d have to hide the camera somewhere.
Currently, he was trying to get Kelly to do a video with him. She liked her sex nasty. She was a shit freak, but she was dubious about having that on tape. She was a little older than him, and his manager at the retail store where he worked. Wendy worked there too.
Wendy was all for making a home porn tape.
He put the tape in the VCR.
On the TV, Wendy was wearing a black bra and panties, lying on his bed. He heard himself say, “And...action!” and he jumped on the bed.
“Oh, teacher!” Wendy cried.
“I’m here to teach you some manners, young lady!”
“Mr. Teacher, I’m only thirteen years old!”
“Time for you lessons, young lady,” he said, and began to spank her.
He spanked her, he pulled her panties down and fingered both her cunt and ass.
Watching this, Gene thought it was a fine time, and he was glad it was on tape. He jacked-off to it and went to sleep.
#
At work, in the break room, Kelly cornered him and wanted a kiss.
“Not here,” he said.
“Just a small kiss,” Kelly said.
He kissed her, and got away.
In the stockroom, Wendy wanted a kiss.
“Not here,” he said.
“A small kiss,” she said. “A peck.”
He pecked her.
On the floor room of the store, Kelly slid up next to him and said, “Coming over tonight?”
6.
Kelly
Kelly had him in her bed all night, like she’d planned. He’d fucked her twice—in the pussy, in the ass. Every time she got ass-fucked she felt like she had to take a shit, and often she did.
She was sitting on the toilet when he came in and looked at her.
“Gene,” she said, embarrassed.
“I want to watch you,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“You want to watch me poop?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Okay,” she said.
She sat there. Nothing more was going to come out. She couldn’t with him leaning against the wall—naked sweaty smelly body. He was masturbating. He moved in front of her and grabbed her head.
“Suck it,” he said.
His cock tasted slightly of her ass, and she liked that very much. She tried to take him whole down her throat, again. Each time she seemed to get a little further. She grabbed at his buttocks, and felt funny doing so.
He pulled her up from the toilet, pushed her to the side, against the basin, her face pressed into the mirror. He was behind her and was all hands. Her eye touched the reflection of her eye.
She asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going to fuck your butt,” he said, “again.”
“It’s—messy,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, spreading her cheeks.
“I just went,” Kelly said. “I didn’t wipe.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Oh, you’re a nasty,” she said. Her body started to shake.
“That’s why you like me,” he said, sliding his cock up her wet asshole.
Yes, that’s why she liked him—among other things. She liked his thick lips. She liked his long wavy brown hair. She liked the way he looked at the world. She liked how he made her laugh. She liked his stocky, tanned body. She liked that he was ten years younger. She liked that he didn’t mind she was married—well, separated now, with her own place; but she’d been fucking Gene once or twice a week when she was still living with her second husband.
Gene grabbed her hips and did her hard, like she desired. Kelly had her hands against the mirror above the basin. She looked at herself. Her make-up was smeared, dripping down her eyes. Her red hair was a mess. She hated the lines that were forming around her lips and eyes, the coarse skin at her neck. Ten-fifteen years ago, she was “hot,” and she had many boyfriends. She knew she was still a desirable woman, but showing age. She’d been through two husbands. None of them had ever fucked her this way.
She listened to the moist, squishy sounds of their copulation. She felt liquid rolling down her legs. The smell was invasive.
“Nasty,” Gene was saying with each thrust, “nasty—”
“I bet it’s messy,” she said.
He stopped, pulling his dick out. “My God.”
“What?”
“...mess.”
“Let me look.”
“No,” he said, putting himself back in her.
“I want to look,” she said.
“It’s disgusting,” he said.
“Sounds yummy.”
Gene pulled himself out, stepped back. She turned around, looked down at his cock. It was completely brown and dripping. She went to her knees. Wet shit matted in his pubic hair. She was shaking again. She took him in her mouth.
“Wow,” Gene said.
You bet wow, she thought. The taste filled her mouth; nothing really, it was more the smell. She licked along the side of his cock, cleaning it. She reached between her legs. She wanted to come. He grabbed her head, made her take him down her throat.
She pulled away for air. “Fuck me again,” she said. “Bend me over the toilet and stick my head in the toilet and fuck me,” she said, like a desperate person.
He was quick to do what she requested. She was over the toilet, he was back in her ass. He wasn’t forceful, didn’t shove her head in. She did it herself. Toilet water and her shit and piss covered her face. She reached between her legs and immediately came.
He grabbed the back of her hair, pulled her face from the filth she was enjoying—
“I’m going to come.”
“Let me suck you again,” she said.
He helped her up. He leaned against the bathroom wall. She slid down the wall, to her knees.
“Shit stick special,” she said, softly.
His dick was covered in more fecal matter than before—a thick clump of it on the head of his cock that she quickly licked off with her tongue and swallowed.
#
They took a shower. Hot water. She didn’t flush the toilet until he left the bathroom. She wanted to look at her expenditure, just as she always had since she was five. She didn’t pick it out of the water an play with it this time. She was content now. She wanted to sleep.
#
In bed, Kelly and Gene kissed for a while and then went to sleep. She liked the way he kissed. She liked kissing. She liked his lips. Her husband never wanted to kiss. Her husband, she realized, never knew anything about her—not this last husband, and certainly not the one before.
#
Despite how much she liked ass-fucking, she’d only been doing it for a year. Kelly was thirty-eight. For some reason or another, none of her boyfriends or two husbands ever wanted to try it. The young boy she was having an affair with before Gene, when she was still living with her present husband—he wanted her ass. He was in the Navy, he was excited to be in bed with her. She wanted to please him. “What do you want?” she asked. “What do you want to do to me? Anything you want, I’ll do it.”—”I want to fuck you in your ass,” he said. —”Okay,” she said. She was afraid it would hurt. It did a little. But she liked it.
The same thing happened when she was in bed, the second time, with Gene—she said, “What do you want? Do what you want to me.”—”What do you want?” he said.—She said, “I want you to fuck my butt.”—”Okay,” Gene said.
#
In one of the rare occasions she had sex with her second husband—after the Navy guy ass-fucked her—she suggested it.
“Why?” her second husband said.
“Why not?”
“What makes you want to do it?”
“I read it in a book,” she said.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the smell or the mess on his penis and didn’t know why any woman, or even man, would care for such a thing.
#
She had picked up a porn book not too long ago, a little paperback titled Libidinous Librarian in Little Rock. The cover had a woman in garters and glasses reaching to spread her ass. Around page fifty, she came across a section where the libidinous librarian was getting sodomized by two drunk college professors, and they made her lick and suck the shit off their dicks. “Have a shit stick special!” they kept saying. The image stayed in her mind. She dreamt about it. She masturbated to the fantasy. Finally, now, she had done it.
#
She did have one boyfriend, ten years ago, who wanted his ass licked now and then. She was with him four years. Maybe every five or sixth months he’d ask her to lick his ass, and she was more than willing. She wasn’t aggressive back then, or she would’ve done it more often. She remembered wishing he’d ask every night.
#
She’d always loved to look at her shit in the toilet, since she was five. Later, in her teens, she’d reach into the bowl and play with it. In her early thirties, married to her second husband, in secret, she would sometimes put it in her mouth.
#
Gene got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Kelly woke up. She heard him making bowel movements in the bathroom, heard it plop into the water.
This time, she was the one to walk in and stare at him.
He looked like a helpless little boy sitting there on white porcelain. She realized, at this moment, she was in love...
“Kelly,” he said.
“I want to watch you,” she said.
“Nasty bitch,” he said.
“Actually,” she said, “are you done?”
“Yeah.”
“Let me lick you clean.”
He
said, “Nasty bitch.”
She was
a nasty bitch, and never felt more like herself than this moment.
All the dirty things she’d been dreaming about were now manifest.
She had Gene stand against the wall, hands up, and she got down and
spread his ass—which stank, was covered in shit. She licked at the
outer areas of his buttocks, cleaning him. Her tongue dove in
deeper. A small clump of shit fell into her mouth and she swallowed
it. Gene was moaning. He was playing with his cock. This went on
for about fifteen minutes and finally she pulled away, knowing shit
was smeared all over her lips and dripping down her chin; she said,
“I bet you have the cleanest asshole in the world.”
#
They went out for breakfast the next morning. She had a vegetarian omelet and he had an egg and ham omelet. They both had coffee. He had milk, she had orange juice. They both had toast. He just liked butter on his toast, she liked jam.
“I’m worried about the war,” Gene said.
“Is it really a war?”
“We’re bombing them, people are dying, they’re shooting down planes, ground troops are moving in. It’s a war.”
“It’s just so far away,” Kelly said.
“Like it’s not real?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s fucking real,” Gene said. “Don’t you watch the news?”
“CNN??
“Yeah.”
“I watch the Cartoon Channel,” she said. “It’s nicer.”
“Read the paper?”
“No.”
“Do you even know what’s happening?”
“I hear things.”
He said, “This place—it has the greatest omelets, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” Kelly said.
They ate.
“Why are you worried?” she asked after a while.
“It might escalate,” he said. “It might be World War Three.”
“No,” she said.
“I worry about a lot of things,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Keeping my job, worrying about money, paying my credit card, whether or not someone’s gonna fire off nukes. What do you worry about?”
“Growing old and being alone,” she said. “Wondering if I’ll ever find love. Have you ever been in love?”
“Sure. Many times. Who hasn’t?”
“I haven’t.”
“You’ve been married twice.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ve been in love,” Kelly said.
They ate in silence. They paid the bill. Outside, she took his hand in hers. With his other hand, Gene put his sunglasses on. “Great day. Sun’s hot. Great day for the beach. Let’s go to the beach. We can walk hand-in-hand on the boardwalk and people will see us, holding hands and kissing, and they’ll think: ‘There’s a couple in love.’”
“Okay,” Kelly said.
7.
Rachel
Outside, Jeff heard people yelling at each other but this was nothing new because people were always yelling at each other around here. Two men’s voices, one a woman’s. He went by the window and saw one of the men, a black man, throw something down on the ground, something small and glass which broke. He noted, with interest, that it was a crack pipe. The woman, also black, began to make noises, looking at the broken crack pipe, as the black man left the scene with the other man who had been yelling, a white man with long hair and dirty jeans. “You have no respect for me!” the woman yelled at them, bending down to pick up the pieces of the pipe. She soon gave up and stood and yelled at the men who were still walking away, “Do you know what respect is, motherfuckers?! That’s all anyone ever asks for,” and she began to sing the song, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it—” and Jeff had to laugh, listening to her raspy, cracked-out out-of-tune voice sing this song as she both danced and ran after the two men, still demanding.
Jeff closed the window to help muffle the noises of the outside city and Market Street and turned around to see his present lover, a thin brown-skinned woman named Rachel, lying partially naked on the bed, just as he left her, now smoking crack from the new pipe he had bought earlier, to celebrate the fat uncut rock they had scored. She smoked crack and looked at him and said, “Come here,” and he did, sitting next to her. “Do you have respect for me?” she asked. He kissed her, tasting crack on her lips, thinking he should have talked Shella into smoking crack, and then slapped Rachel hard across the face. Hair tangled in her eyes, a little blood at the lip, she smiled at him and laughed, which made his heart soft like a kid watching his favorite TV show before bedtime. So he laughed too, and began to whistle the song the woman outside had been chanting like a mantra. Jeff and Rachel smoked more crack and drew more blood and ignored the obscenity of sounds.
8.
Rachel
Gene answered his door. Rachel was there. He wasn’t expecting her—he wasn’t expecting to see her the way she looked. Her face was a mess.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“Thanks.”
“What happened to you?” he said. “Did someone beat you up? Did something bad happen?”
She smiled—with her black eye and broken lip. “Someone beat me up, all right, but it wasn’t bad. It was probably some of the best sex I’ve had in a long time.”
“I see.”
“But he’s a jack-ass,” Rachel said. “He has problems. Do you have any drugs around here?”
“No,” Gene said.
“Drink?”
“Sure.”
They went to the kitchen and he made them both vodka tonics. “I haven’t seen you around in a while,” Gene said.