Harmony Hill Ch. 06

I opened the top drawer of the bedside table to the left of the bed, made a racket trying to find some K-Y jelly, anything to lubricate Harmony; plastic sexual toys in a rainbow of colors bumped against metal implements looking more painful then pleasurable, other devices, made of rubber, ominously black in color, quietly rolled around in the drawer. In the drawer I saw a Hitachi magic wand vibrator, an Iron Maiden black vibrator, a flesh colored butt cock, Julie Ashton's pocket missile still in the package, a pearl beaded cock ring, a bottle of lavender scented massage lotion. Under a crystal dildo and a string of black pleasure beads, I also discovered a VHS tape labeled with a blue and white sticker centered between the windows over the reels. With a red pen, one I had seen her use before, Harmony had written the name Roy and a date on the label. I saw the K-Y jelly, ignored it for a moment as I closed the drawer and opened the one below it, saw it was filled with two rows of neatly aligned VHS tapes, each one labeled with a name, many of them mine, and various dates. I wanted to ask Harmony about this collection, but not now.

I closed the bottom drawer, re-opened the top drawer, found the jelly again, removed the cap, and smeared a large glob of the goop on Harmony's anus. She jumped as though I had squirted skin cream on her without bothering to warm it first in the palm of my hand.

Her ass allowed me easy access after the initial resistance to my invasion. I slid in, her anal ring offering little resistance, she squealed, the sound harsher then the usual noise she made when I penetrated her pussy. The channel's tightness must have been what her pussy felt like when she still retained her virginity. She remained surprisingly tight in her pussy but there was slight give from all the cocks visiting, staying for a while.

I fucked Harmony's ass. John Ray fucked her mouth and Desmond fucked her other hole. The sun now down, the room now dark, our cocks pounded into her various orifices. It reminded me of fucking Harmony with Eric in tow, the classic ménage a trios favored by the adventuresome. Now, with three eager men fucking her was this a gang bang? How many constituted a gang bang? A woman such as Harmony who allowed two men into her bed simultaneously had no trouble fucking three men at the same time. However, most women, I suspected, did not take on more then three men at one time. That number was probably the cut off, the maximum capacity allowed before closing the doors. Like committing a murder, it took a major leap, a total break with any sense of morality, for a woman to sprawl in a bed and allow a legion of men standing in line to have sex with her one after the other. In Harmony's case, I could see her taking on all comers if she found herself in a barrack populated with young airmen, marines, sailors or soldiers going in harm's way.

The chute in Harmony's ass gripped my cock as I forced a projectile into a sheath too small for its dimensions. In the disturbance of a tube I did not think was accustomed to such a penetration, by its texture and tightness, I experienced sensations in this opening not accorded my cock in the other two major openings in her body. She flexed her butt checks and my prick found itself under even greater tension. The miracle of Harmony's anatomy was her ability to give adequate attention to whatever orifice was being penetrated. In addition to her working with me to achieve the greatest pleasure for both of us, she did the same thing with the cock lunging into her mouth and one savaging her pussy.

This kind of pleasure, its intensity made me wonder what it might feel like to have my ass fucked. Not fucked by another male, not me, but by a strap on cock. Did Harmony possess such a device? I hoped so. The thought of Harmony behind me, wearing a flesh colored fake cock, fucking me with it, made me come.

Finally the four of us stopped, sheer exhaustion overcoming us and all our busyness in the sleigh bed gradually wound down. We sprawled about the bed and napped but before I fell asleep, I decided to do a recon mission in Harmony's crib while she worked the service counter at work. Not a break-in as portentous as the one taking place in the Watergate Apartments more than three decades earlier, just a quick tour of the premises to gather some information for my own peace of mind. Harmony did not know it and hopefully no else did, but I sometimes supplemented my income from The Sweep Spot with the occasional cat burglary. My income from standing behind a bar, the anemic payoffs from the occasional published story did not go far enough to pay for my apartment next door or the flashy car sitting in the parking lot. I also loved the danger, the excitement, the prowling around in the dark while someone slept a few feet away.

Questions about VHS tapes, mysterious callers and angry lovers spelling out their agony on Harmony's front door would not go away. Instead of wearing at midnight a black sweat suit, black soft soled loafers and a black ski mask with eye and mouth openings, my cat burglar suit, I could enter Harmony's place at mid day in whatever I happened to be wearing, take my time prospecting for answers instead of babbles and beads worth a king's ransom.