Socialist Love

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Karl Marx's daughter plays with men.
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joygush
joygush
92 Followers

Edward was not coming home tonight. Nor the next night, nor the night after.

A short telegraph was the only indication he had sent that his engagement in Bristol would keep him over the weekend. "HERE TIL MONDAY -- STOP" Numerically, it was only thirteen characters, but those few letters contained a devastating narrative. Eleanor could see it in her mind's eye, as clear as day. Edward, awash in the steamy interior of a brothel; Edward, his arm around the voluptuous body of a strange, faceless woman, titillating in her anonymity. The bastard.

Eleanor had been here before. She knew exactly what expression she would see on Edward's face when he returned to their London flat next week. Not guilt--defiance. Edward was never remorseful when he strayed from her; if anything, he was proud of it. Proud of his independence and hubristic in his assumption that Eleanor would still be there for him whenever he decided to return. And the tragedy was, Eleanor knew that she would be: waiting for him with patient, pathetic domesticity.

Eleanor wrapped a shawl around herself and sat down at her writing desk, rubbing her hands against each other. She was tempted to put more coals in the furnace, but there were precious few coals left in the coal scuttle, and she wanted to save them for when guests came over. She would write to Friedrich Engels today and ask if he could send more money. She hated to do it, but work had been slow this month, and there was nothing else to be done. She dipped her pen in the inkwell and began composing a polite, obsequious letter in neat script to dearest Herr Engels, whose generosity was a godsend and to whose kindness she was eternally indebted.

Once she had finished, she set the letter aside and continued the draft she had been revising. The top of the page bore the short, blunt title, "THE WOMAN QUESTION." She began to go over the words she had composed, slowly, her finger marking each word to be sure that it was the exact one she wanted. "What is it that we as Socialists desire?" The draft expounded, "What is it that we expect? What is that of whose coming we feel as assured as of the rising of tomorrow's sun?"

But she could not concentrate. Images of Edward swam across her thoughts. Edward's backside, gleaming with sweat as he thrust into another woman. His hands on her thighs, his lips on her neck. And why would he only stop at only one woman? Why not two or three? One woman on the bottom and one woman on top, how about? One to suck his dick and one to lick his balls? Eleanor burned with jealousy. She was not jealous of the other women in the scenario. What, jealous of the opportunity to stroke his flaccid cock and smell his liquor breath? No, she envied Edward himself. She envied him his freedom.

She tore off a page of her notebook. "There will no longer be one law for the woman and one for the man," she scribbled furiously. "If the coming society, like European society today, regards it as right for man to have mistresses as well as wife, we may be certain that the like freedom will be extended to women." She imagined herself in Edward's position, except in reverse. To be surrounded by handsome men, to take her pick of them with the same casual presumption that Edward possessed, was an enticing thought indeed. Perhaps she'd take a tall one and a short one, or a thin one and a fat one. A man to fill her front and a man to fill her back. She'd like that, she thought--to be completely filled with men, to share and share and share until Edward was forgotten entirely.

***

Eleanor had a speaking engagement that afternoon at a rally for the dockworkers' union downtown. The union was pushing for a strike to demand that workers' wages be raised from five pence an hour to six, and they had brought in several speakers from across the country and abroad to rile up the crowds and show international solidarity. Eleanor's oration was as impassioned as it always was. Her voice rang clear and true over the crowd. "This is not the end but only the beginning of the struggle," she assured her audience. "We must speak for the cause daily, and make the men, and especially the women that we meet, come into the ranks to help us."

After the speeches were over, Eleanor stayed to chat with some of the dockworkers and their wives. They were a lively group, particularly once the men started drinking, and liveliness slowly turned to rowdiness. Eleanor was just beginning to collect her things to leave when Nigel Brampton, who worked with her at the publishing house, sat down next to her, accompanied by two strangers.

"Eleanor, meet Leo Eisenstein. He's a trade unionist from Munich and a stellar comrade all around. This here is his friend, Johannes Schiller--no relation to the writer."

Eleanor eyed the two men. The one Nigel had introduced as Leo Eisenstein seemed a genial fellow. He was broad shouldered and bearded, with a wide, warm smile that put Eleanor instantly at ease. His friend Johannes, for his part, was quite extraordinarily beautiful. Eleanor was momentarily taken aback. It was not often that one came across such physical perfection. Every detail of his figure seemed as if it had been sculpted in marble--from the smooth, symmetrical lines of his face to the youthful vigor of his temperament. "And this lady needs no introduction!" Nigel continued. "Eleanor Marx Aveling."

"Very pleased to meet you!" Leo shook her hand vigorously. "You are quite the rousing speaker."

"Your father was a great man," Johannes offered, shaking her his hand as well.

"Thank you," she told them both. "Fleeing Germany, are you?" There were many German comrades living in exile in Britain; it was quite a common occurrence these days, since the anti-Socialist laws had passed in the Reichstag.

"Let's just say Herr Bismarck and I are not on particularly good terms," Leo insinuated. "I've misbehaved quite badly, I'm afraid!" He gave a broad grin.

"By which he means he'll be jailed if he comes home," Johannes clarified.

"If he can get his hands on me! I can make myself very hard to catch, you know," Leo joked.

"And you, Herr Schiller?" Eleanor asked, "Are you in exile too?"

"I'm Leo's friend," Johannes responded simply.

"He's my protégé!" Leo wrapped an arm around Johannes and kissed him on the cheek good naturedly. "A promising young mind and--as of yesterday--former student at the University of Munich. Another member of the bourgeoisie defected to the cause. We're winning." He raised a glass of ale, and Nigel and Johannes raised theirs to meet his. The men drank deeply.

After a few more minutes of exchange, they came upon the real reason why Nigel had introduced the two Germans. "They're looking for lodging for the night," Nigel explained. "Would you and your husband have space?"

Eleanor hesitated. It occurred to her that Edward might object to her inviting two strangers over to the flat on a night when he was out of town. All the better, she thought. "You are both welcome to spend the night."

***

Eleanor put two more shovelfuls of coal into the furnace when she, Leo, and Johannes got back to the flat. She put a kettle on the stove and put the meat pies they had bought at the shop on the way home in the oven to warm up. "It's not much," she apologized. "Funds are low this month."

"Your company is enough for me," Leo responded with genial good humor. The men took a seat at the table.

Eleanor brought them the pies and tea when they were ready and sat down next to them. Next, she knew, would come the questions about her father. She and Edward hosted men like this often, and they were always curious about one thing. What was it like growing up under Karl Marx's tutelage? What was he like at the dinner table? How did he trim his beard? What kind of coat did he wear?

To her surprise, however, Leo leaned forward and asked an entirely different question. "I've been following your work," he told her, "in the Commonweal journal. You're always there on the sidelines. Editor, translator, transcriber. I want to know what you think. What are Eleanor Marx's theories?"

Eleanor was quite flattered. She also noticed that he had not used her married name. "I..." she began, "well, as a matter of fact, I'm working on something right now." She walked to her desk and rummaged around through the papers that littered it until she found the essay she had been revising that morning. "It's a rough draft," she apologized. "But you're welcome to read it."

Leo took the papers from her and set them down on the table between himself and Johannes so that they both could read. "The Woman Question," he read aloud. "A prescient question indeed!"

Eleanor blushed as the men began to look over her work. It was the first time she had shown it to anyone. Their eyes perused the pages with deliberate care. On the last page of the treatise, Leo came across a passage that seemed to interest him. "Whether monogamy or polygamy will obtain in the Socialistic state," he read aloud, "is a detail on which one can only speak as an individual. The question is too large to be solved within the mists and miasmata of the capitalistic system." He looked up and gave her a quizzical look. "But if you had to guess," he probed, "which one will it be?"

Eleanor laughed. "Well," she explained, "I believe in monogamy. But not monogamy like it is today. I believe in equal partnership between a man and a woman."

Leo took a sip of his tea. His eyes shone with a mischievous glint. "And you and your husband practice that kind of monogamy, I suppose?"

It was a bold question. Eleanor's eyes widened, and she hesitated, deciding how to respond--how much to reveal. "Edward and I..." she began, "well, he and I have not yet escaped the traps of capitalist marriage. I don't believe that's possible." She looked down at her plate, embarrassed about how much the statement had revealed about her marital troubles.

"I do," Leo countered. He said it with such conviction that Eleanor looked up at him again, taking in his steadfast expression. "Johannes and I--we believe in free love." He stretched and draped one arm around Johannes's shoulder. It was a casual gesture, one that conveyed a genial familiarity, as if it had been repeated hundreds of times. Johannes gave him a smile and patted his hand.

Eleanor noticed the gesture, and she knew immediately what it meant. Free love indeed, she thought, but she decided not to comment on it for the moment. "See," she responded, "I've noticed that, when men tout the virtues of 'free love,' they often mean something very different."

"Oh? And what is it that we mean?"

"You mean your own freedom--to take women and use us to your enjoyment."

"And what about your freedom?" Leo countered. "To take men and use us to your enjoyment?" He grinned. "Equality of the sexes, right?"

Eleanor blushed. It occurred to her that Leo's statement had not been merely a theoretical quandary--it had been an invitation. Her mind whirred with possibilities, fears, and thoroughly indecent fantasies. It had been no more than an idle fantasy earlier that day, when she had occupied her mind with thoughts of making love to many men in Edward's absence. But was it really possible? What did the two men want with her? How far would they go? "Are you suggesting..." She trailed off, unsure how to put the quandary into appropriate words.

"I would like to prove you wrong," Leo said.

"Excuse me?"

"I want to show you that free love can be very much to a woman's enjoyment. That is, if you have the inclination."

"Oh?" Eleanor gave Leo a skeptical glance. "And you do you propose to do that?"

Leo returned her gaze placidly. "By simply asking. What do you want? What do you like?"

Eleanor's eyes widened. Her heart began to race. It was the simplest of questions. And yet no one--not Edward, nor any of her previous lovers--had ever thought to ask it. Well, she thought, what did she want?

"How do you like to your men, Eleanor?" Johannes piped in. He offered her a winning smile that lit up his entire face. It enlivened the contours of his features, from his pink, pliant lips to the sculpted lines of his jawbone.

Eleanor grinned. "Handsome," she replied.

Leo ran a hand through Johannes's fine, curly blond hair. "And how do you like Johannes here?"

"Very much," she admitted.

"You don't have to be shy!" Leo chided. "He's a fine specimen of man. I'd be upset if you didn't have the discernment to notice it." He put his hand around Johannes's jaw, as if to show off the structured symmetry of his face. "And he's very generous, too!"

"Yes, I'm a true communist." Johannes joked. "I'll share with anyone who wants me."

"What do you think?" Leo asked. "He'll do anything you want. He's an obliging fellow." The two men looked at her expectantly.

Eleanor wanted to know exactly where she stood. "So you and Johannes..."

"We enjoy each other tremendously," Leo interjected placidly. "Every inch of each other."

"And you'd like me...I mean you really would enjoy it if I..." she stammered.

"We really would."

Eleanor took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it. This was her chance. Equality of the sexes, she had written. If Edward could flaunt his infidelity, then so could she. "Okay then," she told them. "I'd like...I'd like to see Johannes without his clothes."

Johannes beamed. "I thought you'd never ask!"

"Shall we take this to the bedroom?" Leo suggested.

Eleanor led the men to the bedroom. Then she hesitated, unsure what to do next. Leo sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for her to sit next to him. Johannes stood before them and began unbuttoning his jacket. Eleanor watched his hands. They were aristocratic hands, smooth and well proportioned, and they snaked around the buttons of his jacket with graceful efficiency. Johannes undid his cravat, removed his vest, and slipped his suspenders off of his shoulders. Then he undid the buttons on his shirt and cuffs and cast his shirt to the side. He offered Eleanor a flirtatious smile as her eyes flicked down to consume the contours of his naked chest--the smooth, pale skin, the sturdy musculature. "You like what you see?"

"Yes!"

Johannes removed his socks, shoes, and trousers. "Come lie down on the bed," Leo told him. Johannes did as he was told without skipping a beat. He lay on his back, looking up at them expectantly. Leo sat on his right, and Eleanor sat on his left. "Isn't he exquisite?" Leo said.

"He is a true Adonis," she agreed.

Leo ran a hand over Johannes's chest, down his torso. "You can touch him, you know. Anywhere you want." Eleanor reached out a hand and placed it on Johannes's chest. Slowly, she slid her hand down over his stomach and around the side of his torso, feeling his waist, solid but supple. She squeezed his upper thigh, taking in its density. With her other hand, she ran a finger through his hair and across his face. Leo was perusing Johannes's body with his hands as well, and Johannes lay there, his hands resting casually behind his head, and basked in the attention. "He is a paragon of youth," Leo opined.

"Indeed!" Youth shone in every feature of Johannes's body. It dwelled in the innocence of his eyes, the smoothness of his skin, and the vigor of his body, with its comingling of strength and boyishness. Eleanor was still quite young herself. Both she and Leo, she guessed, were in their early thirties, and they possessed every virtue of body that could be desired. But next to Johannes's vibrant, riotous youth, their physical virtues seemed to dim by comparison. Johannes glowed with youth; he exuded it from every pore.

Leo inched Johannes's underwear down his legs to reveal his genitals. Johannes was half erect, and Leo stroked him deftly to erection. He had a working man's hands, Eleanor noticed, hands that were accustomed to being used. What's more, they seemed well practiced at the task at hand; they seemed to know exactly how to coax an erection out of Johannes, perhaps from years of experience. Eleanor watched Johannes's penis grow in Leo's capable hand. She felt a flutter in her stomach as she looked at it. It was sturdy and long and uncut--larger than Edward's, she noticed with a triumphant smile.

"May I?" She reached her hand out and looked up at Leo for permission.

"He's all yours," Leo assured her. She wrapped a hand around Johannes's staff and began to stroke up and down. Her fingers took in the texture of the foreskin, and beneath her hand his member swelled. Johannes gave a soft, satisfied moan. Leo ran his fingers over his thighs, then grazed his testicles, eliciting a sharp gasp of arousal. With his other hand, he tweaked Johannes's nipple. "You take one, I'll take the other," he told Eleanor. They each grasped one of Johannes's nipples and pinched them at the same time. Johannes grunted (in pain or pleasure? Eleanor could not distinguish) and smiled up at them.

"Harder?" He entreated, looking up at Leo for permission.

"If you insist!" Leo laughed. "On the count of three, let's twist his nipples. Don't hold back. You heard him--he wants it. One. Two. Three."

They both pinched and twisted, hard, at the same time. Johannes gave a deep groan and breathed in sharply. He gritted his teeth and moaned, then the moan turned into a whimper as Eleanor and Johannes kept their hands, unrelenting around his nipples. He seemed not to know whether to express pain or pleasure. Eleanor held fast until Leo motioned for her to let go, and she continued to stroke his cock up and down steadily.

"Johannes likes a little pain," Leo explained. "He finds it quite erotic."

"I like to play with sensation," Johannes added. "I like feeling all there is to feel."

Eleanor was quite charmed by the sentiment. How many sensations there were to experience when one opened oneself up to the full range of pain and pleasure, and all the gradients in between! She wanted to delve deeper into Johannes's world of sensations; to tweak him and pull him and see how his marvelous body would react. There was an enticing power in the whole arrangement: to have his pain or pleasure at her discretion. She reached a finger out and ran it down Johannes's chest and torso, scratching him with her nail. A thin line of pink appeared on his pale skin. Johannes grinned at her. "More?" He asked.

Eleanor placed her whole hand on Johannes's chest and scratched with all five fingernails, digging them into his skin. He responded with a deep groan and a tensing of his muscles. Leo followed suit and began tracing lines across Johannes's torso with his nails. Together, they painted the pale, fleshy canvas of Johannes's body with swirling lines of pink--around his chest, across his neck, down his pelvis, over his thighs. Under their touch, Johannes sighed and moaned and whimpered in turn, moving his body in reaction and anticipation. Eleanor pinched his chest. Leo pulled on his penis. Eleanor leaned down and bit him lightly on the flesh of his inner thigh, making him squeal and writhe. "Ohhh," he moaned, then laughed involuntarily as Eleanor bit him again. Johannes was clearly ticklish. She grinned and tickled him with her finger, digging in between his thighs where the flesh was the most sensitive. Leo held his head down by his hair and tickled his torso, while Johannes squirmed and cried out, gasped and sighed, in elated helplessness. Leo bit his neck. Eleanor slapped his thigh. And Johannes lay on the bed and experienced it all, every sensation, deeply and heartily.

"Ohhh," Johannes moaned. As Leo began to stroke his staff, he drew in an elated gasp. His whole body trembled and tensed. "Thank you," he murmured. He began to move his hips up and down automatically. Leo's hand accelerated. Johannes's expressions of ecstasy heightened. "Oh!" He cried out, "Oh!" His hands were grasping the blankets on the bed, as if the intensity of the experience had driven him to secure a handhold on something in order to stay where he was. He seemed to have lost all control over the sounds and movements of his body. The shuddering inevitability of an orgasm was close at hand, overtaking every inch of him. Leo was drawing it out of him, she could feel it, so close, almost there...

joygush
joygush
92 Followers
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