Out O fPeoria Ch. 11

Out of Peoria: A Story of Innocence lost.

Chapter 11: True love, and a surprising discovery.

It was early afternoon before we surfaced for air. Gradually the frenetic scratching, biting grinding gave way to gentle nibbling and stroking.

Heidi lit a cigarette.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I have every bad habit there is ---- well almost,” she added with a wicked smile.

Heidi’s place was luxury personified. High up on the hill, somewhere off Mulholland Drive. I had had to call her three times to check the route. There was no name plate at the entrance to the driveway, but the gate opened noiselessly to let me in, and closed as noiselessly behind me.

“It was bought with Cecil’s money, of course, but it’s in my name. I insisted.”

We sipped a deliciously chilled Chardonnay. Heidi lit her second cigarette. Our relationship had begun as it continued. First wild sex, then gentle sex, then much talking during ‘recovery’, then gentle sex, then wild sex ….. It is I suppose in the nature of being ‘in love’ that this sequence has to play itself out. Also, possibly, that each element in the sequence followed the other “as the night the day”, and that ‘talking’ was no less important than sex. Obviously, I enjoyed sex with Heidi immensely. Her body and what she did with it excited me tremendously. But less obviously, just laying back on the pillow, sexually satiated if but for a while, and talking about ourselves, our feelings, our past, our aspirations --- this aspect was also exciting and stimulating.

With Heidi I felt a ‘one-ness’ that I had never felt before nor since -- I can judge this since much water has gone under bridge between my first meeting with Heidi and the time of writing. If Heidi is not the ‘love of my life’, then there are sectors of my sexual universe I have yet to explore.

We swapped histories. Heidi told me how she had met Cecil in a bar in Berlin, how he had begged her to move to LA, and how she had accepted, on one condition --- marriage!

“If they want you enough, they’ll do anything, even marry you. You won’t believe the contract Cecil signed. He probably doesn’t even realize himself what’s in it. All he cared about at the time was getting his cock sucked.”

She took a deep draft from the cigarette and blew the smoke high into the air above the bed.

“Those were the days when guys had to look long and hard for a girl who could give them a decent blow job. I did Cecil so good he couldn’t help but come back for more. When he was hooked, I turned off the tap. Marriage, or no more BJ’s. Oh, he resisted, but eventually he came round.”

“I was lucky,” she continued pensively. “These days a girl who don’t give good head doesn’t even make it through high-school!”

Compared with Heidi’s past, my own seemed tame. She wanted to know everything, and I told her everything. She knew of course about Cecil’s ‘boudoir’ and what he and I did there. But there are limits to the wisdom of ‘letting it all hang out’ and as things turned out I was very glad I did not own up to her that I had actually enjoyed being with Cecil! Well, ‘enjoyment’ is a relative thing. My standard of comparison was mind-numbing sessions with the ‘green ties’ and ‘red jackets’ of this world! Against this backdrop masturbation was elysium!

But it would not be fair to Cecil to imply that being with him was less satisfying than masturbation. I had enjoyed being with him. I could not deny it to myself, even though it was not necessarily wise to admit it to Heidi now.

“I long since ceased caring about Cecil, dear,” she said. “And I know what you do with him, and I understand why you do it. He’s had four or five HSA’s over the past few years. You don’t get to keep the job unless you shag him.”

“But you don’t need to worry,” she continued. “He’s on a new trip. In his dotage he’s gone back to teens. He has a beach house in Malibu with three of them installed. He’s there right now, no doubt lying on his back getting sucked or fucked by one of them, or all three together for that matter.”

So that was why our Friday sessions had come to an end! To my amazement, I felt betrayal --- somewhat hypocritically, given that I was currently in bed with Cecil’s wife! But there you were. A girl had her pride, and to be displaced by a gaggle of scraggly teenagers in a beach house…! What had the bard said “Hell hath no fury….”? At that moment, there was no fury, just a niggling feeling of annoyance. The fury would come though, later.

“Young girls these days,” Heidi continued, “they have no idea what they are worth. They give it away for nothing. When I was a teen I had to work long and hard to make ends meet. Many a day I did ten, twenty guys. Some were nice, but most were utterly repulsive.”

Heidi insisted I recount every detail of the weekend’s activities. This I did, leaving nothing out.

“This Pietro,” she said. “Does he have a wart just below his left ear?”

I struggled to think.

“I really couldn’t say. Maybe.”

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter.”

Heidi recounted her youth endlessly. It seemed to have a fascination for her, and she seemed to need to talk about the depths she had plumbed. Low born in a Berlin suburb, she had taken to the streets at sixteen and switched to the bar scene as soon as she was plausibly old enough to drink legally.

“And after two years turning tricks at $50 a pop, I happened on Cecil. Bingo. Oil!”

A year later she was ensconced in this luxurious villa in LA.

“Talk about rags to riches!” she said. “Can you imagine how I felt! But I was smart about it. Cecil had his pleasure with me, and I fulfilled my part of my contract with him to the letter. He can have no complaint. I just made sure there was a ‘side’ to the contract that he had to fulfill! Now is payback time, and Cecil at least has the grace not to try to wriggle out of what he signed up for. Not that he could, mind you! I nailed him good!”

I was itching to ask. But held back. Eventually, it came out.

“When –er-- when did you realize you are a lesbian?” I said. Then, daringly I added, “Does Cecil know?”

“No idea,” she replied. “Am I one?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Who knows? What’s a lesbian?”

“Well, erm, …” -- what can you say to a woman with whom you have engaged in session after session of aggressive, uninhibited ‘lesbian sex’? -- “when did you realize you are attracted to women?”

“Ah,” she became reflective. “That was long ago. There’s been so much, so many, men and women.” She sniggered. “I’m just a ‘lil ‘ol nympho! And right now,” she continued, stubbing out her cigarette and rolling over onto her side, “this ‘lil ‘ol nympho is going to eat your cunt. All of it! I'm going to bite it right through.”

I squealed like a teenager and pretended to try to escape. But she of course caught me fast. Rolling over and over on the floor, by hell if she didn’t do her damnedest to bite my cunt lips right off!

==============================================================

The hole in my life was filled. I had a lover, and a companion. We talked every day on the phone and we met whenever possible, which was often. Our love-making retained its intensity and freshness and I felt new-born. My duties at Witherspoon continued as before, the ‘green ties’ came and went. None of them were of consequence. It was a job, a lucrative job that I did ‘with the left hand’, if you take my meaning. I saw Cecil rarely and my attitude to him, on the surface, was as always, respectful and playful at once. I felt I now had the upper hand, so there was a lightness about my approach to him that may have surprised him. But there was no hint of what really was going on. I don’t think Cecil ever twigged. His ego was too big. Such a thing was simply not possible. And for my part, I was not about to kill this goose just to get even with Cecil and his teenagers! I could wait, and my instinct told me my time would come.

There were no more Friday sessions in his ‘boudoir’, but neither of us remarked on this. The bonuses kept rolling in, bolstering my bank account to dizzying heights, to the point that I had to hire a broker and accountant to administer the accounts and ensure that my tax burden stayed in reasonable bounds. A whore I may be, I thought, but I was damned if I was going to fuck for the IRS!

An important reason why my love-making with Heidi remained exciting and fresh was her inventiveness. No session was the same as previous sessions. Heidi always seemed to find new ways of stimulating me, making me shriek with delight like a little girl. And to say she was multi-orgasmic was like saying that the California sky was blue. Heidi’s villa boasted of a pool and a lawn, both totally secluded. We made use of both, and on warm days there was nothing I liked better than rolling around with her on the grass, feeling the earth, and her body on me and beneath me, at one with nature, totally at peace.

I had learned though that all good things come to an end. And though I could not see an end to my relationship with Heidi, I was mentally prepared for it. I was in love with her, and I was supremely confident that she was in love with me. But love is ephemeral, I knew. It does not last for ever. A relationship needed to remain fresh, and to evolve if it was to continue to flower.

One day we were lying on loungers by her pool in the warm sunshine --- by now, my body was as bronzed as her own --- when Heidi said,

“How would you feel about branching out a bit?”

“What do you mean?” I replied, not comprehending.

“Well, you know -- bit more sexually adventurous.”

“Heidi, you have to say what you mean. Don’t talk in riddles! As far as I am concerned what we do is just about as sexually adventurous as it gets. What exactly do you mean?”

“Ok!” she replied. “There’s this club I know…….!”

Heidi could tell I was dubious, but her argument that you can’t know about something you have not experienced was compelling. So on a fine sunny Saturday we set off in Heidi’s Miata with the top down, our hair blowing in the slipstream; and if I was apprehensive I tried not to show it.

“The dues are monstrous,” Heidi says, “but Cecil pays. He thinks it’s an upmarket health club,” she sniggered. “well it is, I suppose! Now you will remember, you’re here as my guest, but this is a very exclusive joint and the secrecy rules are very strict. If you give anybody a hint that this place exists, I get beeg trouble. OK?”

“OK, ok!” I said tensely. I was tense. I didn’t want to be where I was at. I was sure it was not for me.

It was but a short drive to the club, which one entered through gates that opened discretely at the appropriate electronic signal. Heidi parked the Miata carelessly and led the way to the Gatehouse.

“Now one rule is ‘no clothes’, so we have to undress here.”

“You mean, naked?” I asked in apprehension.

“Sure, what’s so strange about that? You can do just about anything in this club but wear clothes. It’s the same for everyone. You’ll see.”

Obediently I removed the two items of clothing I had on, a halter top and cut-off jeans, and deposited them in Heidi’s locker. Heidi punched a code into the keypad on the door and it opened silently to reveal a green meadow, thickly strewn with bushes, No-one was in sight. I entered behind Heidi, wondering what I was getting myself into. But I trusted Heidi completely. She had promised that if I did not like it, we would leave.

We traversed the meadow and gradually my ear tuned in to noises, sighs, cries, squeaks of delight --- unmistakably sexual! Taking me by the hand, Heidi led me through the bushes and into a meadow strewn with naked bodies, intertwined in every conceivable variety. There were couples, triads, rings --- and all were female. Not a male in sight. As I watched, one woman, lying flat on her back, her legs spreadeagled, was being serviced by three accomplices. Suddenly she came with a loud shriek. Her body jolted as the orgasmic waves overcame her. I was transfixed. I could not move. Finally, she lay still, spent, but the accomplices just kept on stimulated her, sucking on her nipples, licking her clit and pumping fingers in and out of her vagina.

Placing a finger on my lips, Heidi mouthed in my ear

“ This is the lesbian sector. Shall we watch for a while, or join in? Or move on?”

“Heidi, I’m not sure this is my scene,” I whispered back.

“Give it some time. You may change your mind.”

My eyes were transfixed on the woman, who was showing signs of life. Her body was responding, and her breath shortened. Suddenly she came again, again in spades, her body writhing as her accomplices held her hard to the ground, continuing to stimulate her, with ever increasing force.

Nearby another orgasmic cry, this time the central figure in a triangle of heads between thighs. In the full throes of orgasm, the woman closed her thighs tight about the head of her stimulant, her body shaking and shaking until it relaxed, spent and she fell on her back panting visibly. The other two members of the triad then joined as a duo. Yet another orgasm was imminent. Suddenly the entire meadow seemed to explode in orgasms, one after the other, the one intertwining with the other.

I turned my back. This was horrific. I could not even watch any more.

“Heidi,” I whispered. “Please, please, get me out of here.”

I had thought nothing could shock me, but this blatantly public revelation of the most private of instincts, in full view, amongst women whom I had been taught prided themselves on their restraint -- this did shock me. Men reveled in their orgasms, celebrated them, showed them. Bragged about them. But ‘ladies’ did not. They may have orgasms --- and I had certainly had more than my share in the past months with Heidi --- but this was a private thing, to be shared, if at all, with a partner with whom one had an ‘intimate relationship’. One did not blare out one’s orgasms to the watching throngs, so to speak!

Though I was emancipated in the ‘live and let live’ sense, this did not mean that everything that human beings did with each other was for me. And explicitly, this open, public, overt celebration of passion was, I was quite sure, not my scene.

“Well, at least you saw, even if you did not conquer!”

“Heidi, conquer what?”

“Your inhibitions. We have to work on that!”

Inhibitions indeed!

“Heidi, it has nothing to do with inhibitions. It has to do with preferences. I have no problem if people like it that way. I happen not to. It is not my scene. That does not mean I am inhibited. Of course, I feel that I have somehow let your down,” I continued….

We were back in the Miata and cruising away.

“Don’t feel that way,” Heidi said. “If it’s not your thing, then it’s not your thing, No problem.

“Well I do feel bad, Heidi, whatever you say. I do feel I’ve let you down because that is obviously something you wanted for us both. But, truly, this is not my scene. I have done group sex professionally as you know, but that’s simulation, it’s a show. What you showed me at that club is entirely different. It’s just too…. too .. well, too blatant and too public. With you I can let myself go and be free. But I cannot do that in public. It’s just not something I would enjoy.”

“Well it was not my thing the first time I came here, so I understand your reaction. But I persevered and I came after a while to like the thrill of it.”

“Well no two people are the same. I hope it matters no more to you that I do not like that kind of thing than it matters to me that you do?”
“Forget it!” Heidi said. I’ll admit I’ve had many an orgasm at the club, but none was as good as those I had with you. I can tell you this honestly!”

I was silent for a while. Heidi said,

“It’s not a public thing though. You are wrong there. It’s a matter of trust. Everyone in the club is in the same situation. The power of group sex is in feeding off one another. You come twice as often because everyone around you is coming.”

“What if I don’t want to come more often? Sex isn’t about coming, is it? It’s about pleasure. Sure, I get pleasure when I come, but I have just as much pleasure getting there.”

“You are thinking, perhaps,” Heidi said slyly, ‘of your friend Pietro?”

“He’s not my friend, Heidi. For God’s sake, he was a one-off client. I got paid five grand for servicing him. I will never see him again.”

“But you did liked his approach, didn’t you?”

“If you mean taking one’s time and enjoying each moment for what it is, Yes! I did. I found it very interesting, unusual and erotic. But you could hardly say that’s the only way I enjoy sex! Well, you of all people really can’t deny that I like it all ways, slow and long, and wild and hard as well!”

We were both silent for a long moment. I said,

“Heidi, I’m sorry. I truly am. But that club is not my scene. It’s not a matter of ‘inhibitions’, God knows I lost those well and truly over the past few years. But it is ok not to like something. For instance, I do not like being prodded up the ass. Just me. Just the way I am. I can’t say I’ve tried it in a serious way, but I don’t need to. I know instinctively that anal sex is not for me. Please forgive me if you are offended, but I feel the same was about ‘sex in public’ as I do about anal sex. It just is not for me, and I’m sure I could not adjust to that. Honestly.”

“Shit! Forgive! What’s to forgive. Mind you, I wouldn’t call it ‘sex in public’ exactly --- that’s a very exclusive club! There’s not a woman on that meadow could not on the spot write a check for a million dollars. But if it’s not your scene, it’s not your scene. No problem. We try something else…..”

“Let’s go home and try out some toys!” She continued slyly.

I suppose it was my upbringing, but the idea of using ‘sex toys’ for self stimulation was inextricably linked in my brain with depravity. It had to do, I was sure, with teenage guilt about masturbation. This was inhibition. No doubt about it. However, having failed Heidi in the matter of the club, I could not raise an objection.

Heidi sensed my discomfort.

“Now you are displaying your inhibition!” Heidi said, craftily. “Toys have a ‘bad connotation for you. But what’s wrong with using one or two accessories if it enhances pleasure. There are toys for every taste. You wanna come more often, you come more often. You wanna delay, you delay. Works whether we do it to each other or to ourselves. That’s what it’s all about. You just godda find the toy or toys that’s right for you.”

And after a rather short while I was so persuaded. Heidi had a bewildering variety of toys. They ranged from dildos of varying sizes and shapes, some of them big, and spiked, quite wicked in appearance. Other toys were more elaborate.

“Let’s start simple,” Heidi said. “What don’t you fuck me with this.” She picked out of the pile a moderately sized dildo and showed me how it worked.

“It’s just the same as using your finger or your mouth. You gotta see how I react and respond accordingly.”

So I fucked Heidi with her dildo, turning on the vibrator, then turning it off according to her response. I wanted to show her how wonderful it was to approach orgasm and recede, then approach and recede. But this was not her thing. Heidi and I were fundamentally different. She liked to come as often as I could get her off. I liked to delay orgasm for as long as I could before coming off.

Possibly the difference was a result of our responses to orgasm. When Heidi orgasmed, she immediately wanted more. It took about ten in a row to calm her down. When I orgasmed there was a period of time when my cunt and clit were just too sensitive to be stimulated. I had to rest, relax, recuperate, before I could continue. There was no fundamental difference here, I recognized, except of degree. I took my sexual pleasure in single orgasms, reasonably spaced out in time. Heidi took hers in groups of ten orgasms, reasonably spaced out in time. So, if Heidi had ten orgasms to my one, where was the problem as long as both of us were getting what we wanted?