The Lovers of New Meeting

"Oh! So it is! But back to business. You'll be on platform 9. That's that one, there, beyond the tables. A marshal--probably me--will come fetch you around 3:15, 3:20, and take you over, help you get oriented and whatnot. Please be in the general vicinity by then. Here's a sheet with your flight plan."

She handed me a folded half-sheet of paper. The gist of it was that I would strip and then offer my ass to a strap-on dildo attached to a woman volunteer. My lover could be in any state of dress or undress, at her option.

Danni was an attractive young woman, and she had that openness and poise typical of New Meeting women. She brought her face close to mine, stroked my cheek, and spoke reassuringly. "You'll probably enjoy it more than you think, Stephen. Everyone cares about you. Welcome to the community." In the movies, that would be followed by a long kiss. Instead she gave me a warm smile and backed off. She gave Lenore a hug. Then she walked away..

Lenore seemed less alarmed at my predicament than I was. "You're probably out of practice in that, aren't you," she said. "Don't worry: nobody wants to hurt you. Unfortunately, I can't be the volunteer who makes love to you. That would be unseemly... not in the spirit of Community Day. So you'll make a new friend. Another plus to that: she'll probably want to make love to you, not just ravish you. When it's time to leave the platform you'll probably be smiling and humming a little tune.... Are you feeling okay about this?"

"Well, you warned me I might make a public spectacle of myself."

"Welcome to the community, Stephen," she said. This time a lovely kiss did follow.

We decided to split up until just before my début on platform 9. Lenore wanted to check on Audrey and then maybe try to find her parents. I wanted to spend a little time in the rest rooms with the running water.

* * * * * 12

Lenore and I reunited about 3:15. Danni came up a couple minutes later. With a sweet smile, she said, "Time to go, Stephen," and reached out her hand. I took it, and she led me to my platform, Lenore at my side.

By now I was getting used to Danni's sense of humor. She brought over the wicker basket. "This is my favorite part... when I get to say, 'Strip, mister!'" I complied.

I started to feel like one of the young people at Pinney Lake beach that Lenore had talked about. The warm sun and the summer breeze on my chest, cock, and balls did feel nice. And I was not the only naked person in sight. That helped.

Danni spoke again. "Lucky girl!"

"He is cute, isn't he?" said Lenore. "I mean, for a man his age."

The two of them kept up the teasing. "Does he like being tied up and spanked?" Danni inquired.

"I don't know yet. Can I tell you next week? Anyway, does it matter if he likes it or not?"

"Children!" I admonished, in my village-elder voice, "let us remember what day this is!" Both girls faked a guilty look.

Bolted to the platform, just off-center, was a frame made of three galvanized metal pipes: two of them vertical, the third connecting them at the top. It looked like a chinup bar from a playground with the verticals spaced a bit closer together. A contraption of brown leather, a cuff of some sort, was attached to each vertical pipe. Danni guided me into position.

"You'll want your feet about here, Stephen. Move your legs a little farther apart.... That looks good. Now lean forward and hold the two bars.... How does that feel?"

It felt fine--like being on a well-adjusted touring bicycle. Spine on the diagonal, 30 to 45 degrees forwards; some of your weight on your arms and wrists. Very comfortable.

"The cuffs are optional, but I really recommend them. They'll help hold your hands to the frame, so you can use a relaxed grip instead of clenching tight. And it will cushion your palms. Your hands, arms, and upper body will thank you afterwards. Maybe your bottom too." She gave mine a friendly pat. "I used them last year and thought they were great."

"Sounds good, Danni. Strap me in." It took a few minutes for Danni to get the frame, the leather cuffs, and my body optimally aligned. As she worked, I looked about and got oriented--located the park paths, the wicker baskets, the chest of accessories, my lover. Near the platform stood a pair of chrome-plated posts with a yard of thick velvet rope between them--like you'd see in old-fashioned theaters, though the rope was pretty short here. I asked Danni about it.

"Oh, it's just a spot for the volunteers from the audience to line up. We'll take them in order. You only need one partner, so whichever lady is at the rope gets to ravish you. Don't worry. New Meeting women are pretty skilled, and everybody is in a loving mood today." She gave my back a pat. "Even me." Then she moved away.

People were beginning to congregate about the stage. Apparently it looked like an interesting show was about to begin here. I tried hard to relax. I was making good progress at it, too, until I saw Ann and Clarisse approach and stop. I made eye contact with Ann. For a couple of seconds her face registered shock and consternation. Then she plastered on a nonchalant look and moved her eyes about the scene, as though she had not seen anything particularly noteworthy so far.

That was Ann. However startled she was, she would not act rashly or impulsively, would not let out an exclamation of surprise. She'd stay unobtrusive while she worked to comprehend the situation. I could almost hear her mind racing as she tried to understand why the man legally her husband was naked and bound on a platform in New Meeting. She would figure it out soon and then decide whether or not she needed to do anything about it.

Maybe she had already figured it out: I was wearing the same green-and-white Guest wristband she was. And that meant, among other things, I was somebody else's problem. So perhaps she could just relax and enjoy the show.

At 3:30 Danni addressed the onlookers--there were already a couple dozen--and briefly explained the 30-minute event. A woman wearing the strap-on dildo of her choice would have some loving anal sex with the neighbor currently on the platform. She reminded onlookers of the well-stocked equipment chest and the basket of condoms--in case my partner and I wanted to take the encounter to another level. Mutual consent required for that, don't forget! She called for a female volunteer to come up to the rope.

Several women in the audience glanced about, looking like they were on the verge of stepping forward. A thin blonde woman in her late 20s was the first to make an overt move. She strode towards the rope. I looked forward to making an interesting new friend. Danni moved back into the crowd.

Suddenly Clarisse barrelled to the rope, wedging herself in front of the other woman. The blonde looked startled and offended but declined to get into a fight. She backed off. Ann came up.

"Clarisse, what are you doing?"

"This is too good to pass up, babe. Fucking male, just waiting for a little righteous retribution. I'll make him sorry he got out of bed this morning." She reached into the equipment chest and withdrew a sturdy harness and a long, thick dildo to fit it. She began assembling and donning the gear over her clothes.

Lenore shot Danni a concerned look. Danni started subtly working her way closer to Clarisse and Ann.

"Clarisse, he's never done anything to hurt you," I heard Ann say.

"Then he's hurt plenty of other women who aren't here to defend themselves. The fucking bastards... fucking rapists. Talk about 'toxic masculinity.' It's payback time, pal.... I'll tear him a new asshole, so the big new one he has will match the big old one he is!"

Danni was typing rapidly on her cellphone. Ann grabbed her lover's arm. "Honey, please! You're acting crazy."

But Clarisse was just getting more wound up. "He's fucked enough women up the ass--figuratively if not literally. Him and the other goddamned patriarchs... fellow rapists. Let's see how they enjoy getting a little of what they've done to us since forever."

"Clarisse, no!"

"Knock off the pacifism act, babe. Save that routine for the Quakers. It's payback time!"

Ann was silent for about five seconds. Then she said something surprising. "That bastard is my so-called husband. I'm the one he raped and abused for the past twelve years. Not only you and our sisters in general. Me in particular! I'm the one who had to suck his cock every day. I'm the one he fucked up the ass a hundred times... two hundred... not just figuratively but literally!... Let me have the revenge!... Please, honey!"

Lenore gave me a startled look. I gave her a smile and a wink. I knew Ann pretty well. Danni started moving in. Lenore shot Danni a gesture with her hand: palm out. Wait.

Clarisse was taken aback. She stopped, pondered, checked the clipboard by the platform.

"Your husband's name is Lancome?"

"Yes. Mine was too... until I escaped."

Clarisse decided she liked Plan B. "Okay, babe. That works.... You can have first crack at the bastard.... 'Give 'em hell, Harry!'"

Surprisingly quickly, all of Ann's clothes were in the wicker basket and she was wearing a harness holding a small, thin, rubbery phallus. The dildo looked to be about four inches long, maybe three-quarters of an inch thick. It was smaller than most erect cocks. Then from the equipment chest Ann grabbed a latex glove and a tube of lubricating jelly. She put the glove on her right hand and lubricated the middle finger. Then she was behind me, her left hand on my shoulder blade, her cheek against my spine, right middle finger gently massaging my anus. "Honey..." she whispered. I gripped the frame lightly and tried to relax.

By now Clarisse was agitated again, almost as pissed off at her lover as she was at me. "Ann, what the fuck are you doing?! Are you going to ream that ass or kiss it?" You could hear yet another sharp intake of breath from the spectators. In New Meeting, one simply did not display anger in public... or speak hostile words... or appear to be starting a brawl. Especially not on Community Day. Public sex was fine. A public fistfight was practically unimaginable.

"I'll take care of you," Ann whispered. "Try to relax."

Lenore looked confused but relieved. I gave her a smile. Ann knew how to give a prostate massage to a man--to me in particular. She started slowly and gently. In a few minutes my anal sphincter was more relaxed, some of her finger was inside me, my prostate was purring, and my cock was pretty stiff. The audience--at least 50 people by now--seemed to breathe easier. Except Clarisse.

"Stephen, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Ann was quietly saying. "I never wanted to hurt you.... I never want anyone to hurt you...."

"It's all right, Ann. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is."

The reinforcement Danni had requested approached cautiously. Now, Clarisse is a nice-looking woman, but she has a certain look and a certain style, and if you saw her, the words that popped into your mind might include "dyke" or "butch." But compared to the marshal now slowly working her way towards platform 9, Clarisse was a Disney princess. One glance at the lady in the pink shirt would make you think you were in the presence of the alpha bull-dyke of all southern New England. She was big, she looked strong, and she looked tough. I could practically hear the sound of heads being bashed.

The marshal--I soon learned her name is Shirley--gently touched Clarisse's upper arm. Clarisse, startled, turned, caught a glimpse of Shirley, and got even more startled.

"Hello, sister," Shirley said quietly, with a little smile. "Something's troubling you. Would you like to talk about it?"

Clarisse, still agitated, started sputtering. "That bastard... fucking rapists... all of them!... I thought my girlfriend was on my side... the little cunt..."

The marshal put her arm around Clarisse and subtly, gradually, eased her away from the platform. "Of course she's on your side.... My name's Shirley, by the way.... Can I call you Clarisse?... But, as you know, Clarisse, all women have a whole lot of things we have to deal with. Many of them painful things. Maybe just each woman deals with... things... in the ways that she's best at employing. Maybe, say, a head-on, direct way is what works best for you. Right? Maybe for your girlfriend... her name is Ann, right?... maybe Ann does better using more indirect, quieter ways. It doesn't mean you're not on the same side, just because you tend to employ different tactics.... Though I don't really like these battlefield metaphors....

Soon Clarisse was looking calmer... and 30 feet farther away. The last time I saw them, a couple minutes later, Clarisse's arm was around Shirley's waist, Shirley's arm around Clarisse's shoulder, and they were walking away together.

"Amazing," I said.

Ann--still massaging my prostate--agreed. "That was impressive. They should send the Hartford police to New Meeting to get some serious training.... Which one is Lenore?"

"To the left," I said. "Mediterranean complexion. Short brown hair. I forget what she's wearing." I looked. "White shorts."

"She's lovely."

"Yes. As are you."

"Are you ready for the dildo?"

"Let's." Ann took her finger out of my ass, turned the glove inside-out, and dropped it onto the platform. She picked up the K-Y Jelly, squirted what sounded like a good dose onto the dildo, and tossed the tube back into the equipment chest.

"All set, honey?"

"Shoot."

She touched the dildo against my anus and caressed my buttocks with her hands. "Relax those gluteals, honey.... There you go.... Trust me, I know what works."

This was probably Ann's first time on the giving end of a phallus in anal sex. But she had been on the receiving end of anal enough to know what works for her and what doesn't. She would just do unto others as she would have others do unto her. And that was short periods of steady pressure--not too hard--alternating with short periods of small-distance back-and-forth.

"Let me know if there's pain, and I'll back off a little."

But Ann had prepared me well enough, and the dildo was small and soft enough, and my ravisher understood anal sex enough--and she had used enough K-Y Jelly--that the operation went quickly and was a success. In a couple of minutes I was taking it all. It felt decidedly odd but not painful. As Audrey had said, I could get used to it.

And Lenore had been right too. My female partner was not just ravishing me but also trying to show me a good time. As she sodomized me in back, Ann stroked my very erect cock with her hand.

Every now and then she'd kiss my back. Every now and then she'd say, "I love you."

"This is actually a lot of fun," she also said, once. "We'll have to try this at home sometime."

The writing critic in me kicked in. "Given current domestic arrangements," I noted, "the meaning of that last sentence is unclear. The pronoun referent is highly ambiguous. Is 'we' you and your three housemates, or what? Also unclear is the geographic referent of the phrase, 'at home.'"

Ann thrust the dildo forwards rather more forcefully than before. "Well, Professor Lancome," she said, "By 'we' I mean present company; that is, my husband and I. 'Home' refers to the two-story structure on Harlan Street that contains the bed on which I have slept the vast majority of nights for the past 12 years. You know: the building where one never knows whose panties one will discover in the bedroom closet? That home.... If you'll have me back."

"There's nothing I'd love more than for you to come home again, Ann."

I guess we were an odd sight. A pretty, naked woman was moving a strap-on dildo back and forth in the ass of a naked man, stroking his cock, talking to him, and softly crying a bit too, as 50 or 60 people stood and watched and other people strolled by. I just hoped the onlookers couldn't hear the very personal things we were saying.

"I was getting all bent out of shape about problems with some abstract entity called 'marriage,'" said Ann, "and everything was all abstract and theoretical and conceptual. And all the evidence was historical. Meanwhile, we had this well-functioning marriage, which I couldn't even see because I was so upset about these concepts. So yeah, in Tudor England marriage was patriarchal and oppressive, and a woman was just a piece of property transferred from one man to another; and married women were oppressed in different ways in the 20th century; and even if the man next door today thinks that marriage gives him total monopoly rights to his wife's body, mind, and soul... what the hell does that have to do with us? We had a really good marriage, designed by us and modified by us, and it worked just fine for us. All the oppression I felt--it was all theoretical!... When I saw her try to hurt you... something in my mind just shifted...."

"It's all right, Ann. Getting trapped in abstractions is a known hazard of academic study. It happens to professors all the time.... I do have a real problem, though. My penis is sore. From abrasion--scraped by your hand too much."

I'm still puzzling over what happened next. Ann might have pulled out of my body, fetched the lubricant from the chest, put some on my dick, and resumed my pegging and handjob. Or she might have said, "Will somebody hand me the K-Y Jelly?" Or just stopped stroking my cock. Instead she clasped me tightly and said, "Lenore, we need your help. Stephen needs to come."

Lenore gave Danni a quick look. Danni shrugged her shoulders. As Ann held me from behind, the dildo deep inside me, Lenore hopped onto the platform, knelt before me, took most of my sore cock into her warm, wet mouth, and sucked. Bangs in rapid succession came from outside the park as ten loads of number seven-and-a-half birdshot were hurled skywards. Amidst it all I too went off with a bang, propelling a good quantity of semen into Lenore's moist mouth. She swallowed it like a... like a girl from New Meeting. I gasped for breath. Ann slowly backed the dildo out of my ass.

"Time, guys," said Danni. "Five minutes over, but nobody wanted you to stop." She touched my back, "You did well, Stephen.... Excellent job, Ann." She released my wrists from the leather cuffs. A little scattered applause came from the bystanders. Danni held open a large transparent plastic bag for the harness and dildo assembly Ann was stepping out of. Ann dropped the contraption into it.

* * * * * 13

Ann, Lenore, and I--two of us naked, one dressed--stepped off the platform and then clasped in a three-way hug. I guess I was feeling punch-drunk, as I decided we needed formal introductions, and in the local idiom.

"Ann, I'd like you to meet my lover, Lenore Allen. Lenore, my wife, Ann Borthwick."

"Lancome," Ann corrected.

"Ann Lancome."

The girls kissed then hugged. "Thank you, Lenore," Ann said. She didn't specify exactly what acts those thanks covered. More than just this afternoon's quick blowjob? Probably Lenore understood Ann's meaning better than I did.

"I told you I was never in the middle in a spit-roast," I said to Lenore. Did what we just did qualify? I was definitely in the middle."

"Hmmm, good question. Was that technically a 'spit-roast'? A matter of definition. We'll have to ask a Jesuit," she teased. "But let's not get caught up in abstract concepts and language. You looked awfully cute up there."

Danni brought over the clothes basket, and Ann and I began dressing. "What became of Clarisse?" I wondered.

Danni overheard me and checked her phone. "A few messages, Ann. The security coordinator thought that Community Day really needed Clarisse out of the park. He talked her into driving home. Shirley says that Clarisse has calmed down and is feeling a little guilty about her outbursts. And Clarisse left a message for you. She says she's sorry, and take an Uber home. She'll reimburse the cost."