Green Berets for the Sexual RevolutionChapter 13
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Green Berets For The Sexual RevolutionChapter 14 free porn video
Marie rested. Other than some very slow, gentle, simultaneous masturbation with Carol in the same room, it had been Marie's first orgasm in years. Carol and I sensed a new strength from her, even as she slept.
When she opened her eyes, her old intensity came back. Carol poured coffee, as I served bread, cheese, and fruit. "You realize that it is not only that I am hungry for food, but my libido is awake as well? Amazing!
"Carol, dear, I do use a lightweight vibrator that straps onto my clitoris -- the Joni's Butterfly. Have you seen it?" Both women nodded. I was without clue. "I also have a small vibrating dildo, perhaps the size of a lipstick, on a safety chain. Carissa is nice enough to help me get them in place. They are light enough that they tend not to tire my hand."
I looked softly at Marie. "While I can't really comment on how difficult it is to use something like that, believe me, you have all the helpers you want. Do I detect, I hope, that something changed for you, in your ability to enjoy such help?"
"Exactly, Curt." She giggled, which was not one of her more common sounds. "Please go to the nightstand, and take out a dark red bottle from the lower shelf." The French-language label didn't help me, so I handed to Carol.
Carol did a doubletake at the label, and then imitated a pompous wine critic. "Brut, tres brut," and then started to giggle. "Curt, French cuisine, or perhaps wine, just met French sex. This is a lubricant, but it is not overly sweet, as they tend to be. Instead, it is flavored with dry wine; to give Marie the sophisticated flavor that so fits her. That sounds rather pleasant, as long as she leaves the bread and cheese outside."
Adjusting her green beret, Carol looked at me. "Fix your uniform, and let us go prepare Marie. Preparations must be made for penetrating ground that has not recently had more than a bit of reconnaissance and light probing." She knelt and addressed the front of my pants. "You, sir, will lead the penetration."
"Let's be clear about the kind of penetration. After all, we are wearing Airborne berets. The first penetrators at Normandy jumped from the sky. Would that be comfortable for Marie?"
"Good point, Curt. I shall, instead, help you sail to her beach. I think I see low brush there."
Marie snorted.
Carol did, in fact, start the reconnaissance, as well as diversionary touches in areas surrounding the objective. In particular, she directed her attention to low hills surrounding the critical mound. Indeed, her tongue probed the summits of the hills, followed by sampling them with her teeth. A collaborator reached down and opened the approaches of the mound.
It should have been obvious to all that I was in the role of a tank, preceded by a long, hard, steel barrel. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Armored penetration of Marie's bunker indeed generated much heat and sound. The armored forces kept drawing themselves back, and driving again and again into the revealed canyon. At some point, my martial fantasy was interrupted by Marie, in tones I had not previously heard, yelling "Fuck me, you asshole!" What could an officer and gentleman do but comply?
As I continued to thrust and exult in my forward progress, I did retain bits of my fantasy, assuming Carol was distracting the gunners at Clitoral Overlook. My adversary screamed, although, it seemed, happily. Perhaps this was a German resister at Normandy, glad to be freed.
We continued to reenact the entire Normandy Campaign, not merely the beach assault. I slid to Marie's side and pulled her to me, in the enveloping maneuver of the later battles. Carol, however, did not look at all like General Montgomery, nor did I resemble Patton. I remembered that General Hobart, under Montgomery, used some special armored vehicles, and Carol's strap-on certainly seemed to qualify, as it penetrated Marie's lovely bottom. Carol and I set up a contrast of thrusts, setting off happy moans and squeals from Marie. These were delightful evidence that our lovemaking -- and lovemaking it was -- found new energy within her.
Eventually, I fell to the side, deliciously spent. Marie still had the strength to cover me with kisses, as Carol kissed her back. Happily, there was still coffee in an insulated carafe at the bedside. I needed it.
It was not very long until Carol stepped out, returned with warm cloths, and refreshed us both. To my amazement, Marie soon sat up by herself. She reached for the phone, and called Shelly. "My darlings, would you help me put on some actual clothing, not just that of the bed?"
We were delighted, although Carol was far more proficient than I. They chose a mostly green peasant dress, the low-cut top of which surrounded her ivory skin with a rose accent. Its full skirt hid the worst weight loss, and, when Marie leaned back on the bed, they arranged the roughly knee-length hem to display her still-lovely calves. Her feet went into high-heeled, feathered bed slippers.
With their magical pots of paint, Marie's face warmed. It was not her natural glow, but rather using pale skin to show off lips of an enticing red. Her eyes and hair were accented with earth-toned colors, which, with a guy vocabulary, I could appreciate if not name.
"Before Shelly gets here, I want to tell you some things that may not be ripe for her to know yet. I emphasize 'yet'. She is not as driven as you two are driven, but she has much potential. Dare I ask you two to confirm that I have been a helpful, if inadequate guide?"
Carol and I looked at one another. With our eyes, we agreed that Marie had never guided us wrongly. In a soft but respectful tone, I spoke for both of us. "We had never put this in so many words, but yes, you have always been our guide. For myself, there was a time, just after graduation, when I felt lost in the wilderness, out of contact with both of you. But maybe that was necessary for my own growth."
"Apparently, my disease was growing around the time you graduated, and I was weakening. Still, I regret not being in contact at all. Two things made it possible to grow again. First was the experimental treatment at NIH Clinical Center, which literally saved my life. For a time, I was not dying. Now, I may be starting to heal. Your love and sensuality move that healing to a new level.
"Second, to be blunt, was the availability of money and influence. Remember, Carol, that I have my own contacts with the friends of the friends of the friends, or the people that offered you the opportunity for that special cheerleader performance. They found you through me. Carol, your special performance for David was the key to opening the doors to the treasure vault. For his own reasons, David has not contacted you again, but he has been benevolent. His family was not friends of the friends for generations, but they do interconnect in a very private world. He is immensely wealthy. Apparently, he made major contributions to dance companies in New York, and met some friends, et cetera, who also were contributors.
"A couple of years ago, after you had danced for David; I was contacted by some of the contributor friends, through a French relative. Perhaps I should be more specific. It was a Corsican French relative. Sicily is not the only place with a long-standing underground economy and even government.
"We met for a very private dinner, with several very cultured people, who explained that their families simply wanted them to give to humanity, and not participate in the traditional family businesses. Two priests were participants. The civilians swore, before the priests, that what they would discuss was not intended to facilitate crime. They agreed that some of the older family members had been involved in crime, but also said that those of that generation, who might participate in this effort, had a true interest in culture. David was not at the meeting, but they mentioned him, and that one of the first areas where they would make experimental grants would be in dance.
"Something strictly to keep among us, although Tana and Aimee may know, is my supposition on who these people actually are. They do use some of the jargon of organized crime families, but my impression, with those that I have met, is that they are related to the families, but have no operational relationship. There are also descendants that go into mainstream business with family money, and are part of the organization. Some, certainly not all, of the older people do enjoy culture. I understand that it is not that uncommon for bosses to study music. My idea is that some have set up foundations and other structures as a home for those of their descendants who really are not fitted for the evolved syndicate.
"Out of that meeting came the 4S, or "Sicily, Sea, Sahara and South," Foundation. The name was a joke that stuck. There was slight hesitation making the Sicilian connection obvious, but some very proud artists insisted on it. Corsica simply would not fit into the name. We usually say 4S.
"4S has converted several townhouses in the West End, to become offices, studios, and galleries. The folk and studio art part is there, not in New York. This connects to Shelly, formally, in that she's knowledgeable in some areas of folk art. On a level shared only among us, I felt an emotional connection through which I could guide her. She is not as driven to learn and to create as are you two, but I sense a sexual fire that can energize other parts of her life."
"Another part is art in movement. It gives grants to dance groups, but has a relationship with Le Marquis. The ideas are still emerging, but one idea is to split your theater, Carol, from the club, but to use the club for recruiting dancers. This division has given grants to professors interested in erotic performance, of a variety of genders."
"I became an advisory board member, presumably to add secondary school and local library perspectives. They do send idea papers, and I've become convinced they are serious. Their offices have been in New York City, but they are establishing a presence here. Some of the New York people have visited me and we now have a working relationship. With one or two of those involved in the creative process, I think we have some visions into which you will enter and expand."
The house phone rang, announcing Shelly was here. Carol and I went to the door to let her in. It would be the first time in years for me to see her in a good light. She looked damn good, in a highly individual and sexy way. Just opening the door had me opening my mouth. She and Carol looked at each other, nodded, and giggled. "Curt, look all you want at me. I like it. The neat thing is that I can encourage you to think the kind of nasty thoughts that I like, but, from what I hear from Carol, we have all sorts of additional things we'll all do together."
Once I got past the overall impression, a variety of lovely details met my eyes. Her skin was a very unusual shade. It occurred to me that I probably should be precise on ethnicities. People that I thought as coming from well south of the Sahara, if they were not deep black, tended to have a warm brown tinge, something like coffee with cream. Shelly's skin was perhaps a cooler brown -- maybe a light milk chocolate?
She wore bright colors that wouldn't work for many people, something that was distinctly yellow, not the gold of our high school. Black patent belt and boots. Copper jewelry and accents. For a moment, I thought of a sexy wasp. No, not the White Anglo Saxon Protestant sort of WASP. She was a little shorter than Carol, both being in heels. Shelly, though, had much more of an hourglass figure. Big breasts that fit her body. Wide hips, but that worked quite well in a short flaring miniskirt. Deep brown, or perhaps off-black, stockings. Thighs that were more like Cathy's muscular ones than Carol or Tana's perfectly tapering ones.
Overall, she was delicious. We went into Marie's room, for happy greetings. Marie told Shelly that some important body parts seemed to be working again, although she'd welcome some help. Shelly beamed at that, gave a naughty laugh, and, taking Marie's hand, slipped it under her own skirt. She looked over her shoulder and grinned at me, "As Carol and I agreed, no underwear. You didn't know how much I love sensual face sitting as well, but you're going to find out."
Earlier, I had adjusted my soft lounge pants and gone commando. I was happy that none of the three women would be put off by my instant erection.
"Carol," Shelly said, "Marie, a few days ago, told me that I need to be more open with you in what I want. I'm certainly willing to have more stage time, but maybe it might mix in things besides dance. Edie seems to be moving to adding comedy. I just might want to do juggling and stage magic." Carol did a leap and cheer. "Really, though, being on stage doesn't excite me like it seems like it does some of the other girls. Marie says that there's more to the club than is obvious, and some of my other interests might be relevant to things you are doing.
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