Adult Image Library 2/Adult_Image_Library_Volume_2.iso/stories/eileen03.txt

Text File | 1996-08-27 | 39.0 KB | 615 lines

                      Standard Preface:
  This is correspondence with a man who used the pseudonym Pace.  He
wrote me from about 1979 till 1987, because I answered an ad in a
swinger's magazine.  I never met him.  I have no idea what has
happened to him since 1987.  He was born in the late 1920's and felt
he might have a heart condition.  He may have died suddenly, because
the correspondence unaccountably went blank in mid-stream.  Or he
could be alive.  It bothers me.  He was obsessed with performing sex
with his wife before groups of men.  She was very pretty, gullible,
and very much his junior.  The period of intense sex performance he
wrote about extended from 1967 to 1972.  But he covered everything
leading up to it and beyond.
  The material was scanned from typewritten pages and dot matrix
print-out.  Then edited and edited.  If Pace's writing "voice" seems
to change suddenly, blame my editing.  Everything was originally
written "in one long string".  Time and sequence are "bugs" of his,
and loom large.  But all else is chaos.  This man neglects typos and
grammar, can switch from the vulgar to the pedantic in the flick of
an eye.  His personality was very Schiz, his lifestyle was, too, and
so was his writing.  I give you Pace, as he was, heavily edited and
revised.  He is honest, and self-admittedly an opinionated, bigoted
man.  That's him, not me, please don't shoot the messenger.

IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE A MESSAGE TO DISCUSS THIS TEXT, OR OTHERS FROM
THE SERIES, LEAVE A MESSAGE TO H MILLER
____________________________________________________________________
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           The Stag Show Scene The Way We Did It

  The usual stag shows were performed by whores in the mid-Sixties.
What a kick we were.  A pretty young wife in her mid-twenties, with two
little kiddies at home, a clean and caring mother did not expose her
pussy to the glare of Club klieg lights before a crowd of shocked and
drooling males.
  Because I was making my own rules there were some peculiarities in
what I demanded of these Clubs.  You know, 46 or 47 stag parties over
about a seven year period is hardly "burning rubber" in the stag party
sprint competition.  But I interviewed at least ten times that number
before I would settle on a Club or group, maybe twice a week,
sometimes.  And I had a couple of real strict rules.
  If there was a gang screw, it was all open, in front of the entire
audience.  A lot of Clubs didn't want that.  A lot of Clubs didn't
qualify.  See ya later.  That was my kick.  That's was my payoff, that
was what I was in it for.  You couldn't take Eileen off into a side
room, and one after another go in and fuck her, so that maybe the whole
crowd would have gotten a chance to fuck her.  That wasn't my thing.
If nobody from the audience could get it up to fuck Eileen in front of
his buddies, fine, at least everybody had gotten a good show, a good
look at her screwing.  But just because of what she was, and what most
of them believed her to be, you would be shocked how many ordinary guys
who would never, in their life, have dreamed of taking their porkers
out to fuck a woman in front of buddies, who would not do it.
  Now I want to make a point about that.  You know, there are probably
between 900 and 1000 men and boys, and I mean from old men to young
boys, I really mean boys, little boys, who stuck their pricks into one
or another of that little mother's orifices.  I don't even know if many
of the older guys are even still alive, today, because that pretty
little mid-twenties housewife was fucking and sucking off some pretty
worn-out old veterans of World War I and World War II in some of those
Vet's Clubs.  She was a little baby when some of these guys were
grand-pappies.  My wife Eileen was gulping cum out of the balls of guys
who were thirty and even forty years older than she was.  Just the idea
she was so much younger than they were stimulated a lot of old cocks
into squirting off into my little wife's pussy hole, almost the minute
they got their excited hogs jammed into the young mother's twat.
  Most of these gleeful, grinning and grateful guys were faithful older
married guys, or poor lonely bachelors, drinking in the Vet Clubs, or
other private clubs, living at home with their old parents.  Fucking my
wife was the chance of their lifetime to screw another guy's wife,
without getting shot in the ass by a shotgun.  Fucking the lady's pussy
in front of her husband's own face, yet!!  I can't ever describe the
glee and excitement on these guys' faces when they first saw my wife
naked, and then actually jammed their rods into her holes.  It was
unforgettable.  Like their entire lives could have ended just then,
they could have died and gone to heaven.
  Talk about excitement, though.  You think those guys were excited?
My heart used to pump up so much, like I said, that half the time I
thought I was going to have a heart attack from watching.  I'd get so
steamed up, often, at least at the first stag shows, that my dick never
went limp.  I would jump in and fuck Eileen, join the crowd fucking my
wife maybe six, seven or even eight times in an evening.
  And my wife?  Forget it!!  When she was new at stag fucking Eileen
was often so crazy with the excitement of this totally forbidden and
crazy activity that she was she was flushed from forehead to her collar
bones, like with hives on her neck.  Orgasms!!  Her pussy would not
stop twitching all evening.  That's why we did stags on week-ends.  It
would take Eileen two days after a stag party to even get up and move
around, that's how deeply into adrenal shock the mass fucking put her.
  Once she got exposed to an audience, and I even touched the end of
Eileen's clit with my finger, her orgasms never stopped till the last
of the stag.  There was no way to number them, orgasms would keep
coming for the entire evening.  Often the only relief Eileen got,
because the minute a cock went into her pussy, her firecrackers popped,
was when the little girl was down on her knees, sucking off a line of
cocks.  A lot of times the situation would get her so excited, sucking
on one cock after another in a line, that she couldn't resist putting
her finger down in her crack, and that would light up the firecrackers
again.  This is no shit.  Not like "cool sex" of today.  More like what
that phony Madonna slut simulates, but fakes.
  For some of those guys probably the only blow job they ever got was
from my wife, if the Kinsey Sex Report, shocking as it was at that
time, was right.  According to Kinsey, back in 1954, I don't remember
exact figures, only some 30% of the entire male population of the
United States had ever gotten a blow job, even once.  It was even less
for the some the men of the older generation that Eileen sucked off.
Only one out of ten of those guys who were fifty and sixty, in the
mid-sixties, had never gotten their dicks eaten, ever.  The rest, the
90%, dreamed about it and could only imagine what it felt like.

                        About These Books

  I don't know who the readers of this book will be.  I mean, out of a
thousand guys, some of you readers could actually have been at one of
Eileen's shows and gang bangs.  For those of you guys who wondered what
it took to bring a couple like us to Clubs and parties, like I said in
the beginning, I'd like them to know what my wife Eileen and I were
really like, how you got the chance to fuck my little sweetie.  For you
kids of the younger generation, I don't see how any of you could
possibly be interested in this.  With the adult movies, and the
routine, boring, boring over-exploitation of numb cock, numb cunt,
numb, numb, numb sex acts, scenes over and over again of guys squirting
off cum on girls, like drilled soldiers, this forbidden world we lived
in will be totally unreal.  I'll try to bring back for the guys of my
generation what it was like.  They can remember.  After awhile, with
present day porno, there's no place to go from here, for the young.
There is no innocence.  When everybody has seen everything, what's
hidden?  The world is like a fucking animal barnyard!!
  Anyway, that should fix an image in your head of our heroine.  Now
this series of books, and the video tape featuring her sexually active
body, didn't just come out of the blue.  The collection evolved.
Initially I wrote to Swinging magazine correspondents during the late
'70s and the early '80s.  The original letters were accompanied by a
few dirty photos of my then-recently-divorced wife, Eileen.  Along with
the pornography I mailed out, which featured my ex-wife's pussy and
tits, I included a photo-narrative describing events and personal
background for each dirty photo.  I also mailed illustrative family
album photos to show how straight and conventional she was in real
life.  Eileen had left me very few of either types of photographs when
she divorced me, she'd grabbed practically all of my porno and family
photo collection.
  Anyway these photos that I sent out, and the accompanying extended
captions that went with the photos, which I called "photo narratives",
fleshed out the stories I wrote about the stag shows and other sex acts
that Eileen had been conned into doing for me.  All of these stories,
which were originally in letter form, were fused into a version of
Eileen's sex biography.  The biography was written bit by bit, and then
in a more organized fashion over a period of years.  I told Eileen's
story year by year, from the time she was a young child, till she was
doing stag shows with me, because that was also the way I laid out the
photos, year by year.  It seemed natural.  So Eileen's sex biography
got the title of the "Chronology".  There were two evolving documents,
the Chronology and the Photo-Narrative.
  I got more and more questions from correspondents.  The more I
answered, the larger the Chronology and Photo-Narrative grew.  In fact
parts of the Photo-Narrative got so extensive and long that they had to
be broken off and joined into the Chronology.  Correspondents asked for
all sorts of details; they were curious and amazed at the pair of us.
They wanted to know about our family life, about Eileen's early sex
life.  They wanted to know very exactly how I managed to con Eileen
into becoming an amateur stag performer.  Some guys wanted me to
describe other gals I'd fucked, like Eileen.  They wanted to understand
how I got my almost hypnotic power over my wife.
  When I first started writing to these fellows all I did was to
described certain stags that I'd enjoyed, but not in too much detail. I
talked about the first stag show we ever did, that was like a virgin
describing her honeymoon.  And like a honeymoon that first stag party
set the tone for many of our other performances.  My correspondents
wanted details, times and places, and most important to them, numbers.
They were obsessed with numbers, statistics of sex.  My writers wanted
to know things like the number of guys Eileen had sucked off at some
particular stag party/gang bang, or the number of cocks that had pumped
her holes at both ends at that same party.  They wanted details about
how many oversized cocks she'd shoved into her vagina, or sizes and
colors of cocks that Eileen sucked.
  Their statistical curiosity was amazing.  They asked for information
on the overall totals, like for all the stags she'd ever done, the
totals of how many guys in all she'd given blow jobs to, the grand
total for all of her stag blow jobs.  Or else guys would want to know
the grand total of cocks or the total numbers of animals Eileen had
allowed to penetrate her little mother's pussy hole.
  I had to rough all that in either raw, from memory, or based on
occasional notes I happened to scribble down at the original stag
shows.  And I had to find those notes in all the jumble of disorganized
papers that had piled up around me, in disorganized depression after
Eileen had left me.  I didn't have that many very detailed notes, they
were scattered all over, helter skelter.  Those original notes had been
jotted down with nothing in mind, mostly out of my own amazement at
what had happened with my wife.  So many times, though, most of the
numbers I supplied my correspondents were only guesses, and I made that
clear.  Eventually a summary table was needed, including question marks
where my estimates of numbers were only rough guesses.
  I kept adding stories or incidents to the letter documents, based on
requests to do so, or tried to reconstruct statistics which had been
asked for, and my audience got larger and larger.  And so did the
hand-written letters I sent back, which I then ended up typing out in
more organized form.  To my surprise I ended up with chapters, and then
I'd managed to write small books.  Out of desperation, in the
mid-eighties, I invested in a computer and word-processor.  Then, over
the years, more books were written, and the collection slowly took
shape.
  The same format as I used in the letters is continued now in the
books.  The individual books are in the same tradition as my Chronology
of sex, they are stand-alone descriptions of sex adventures.  In a very
similar way the script of the companion video to these books plays the
same role as the Photo-Narrative did, and it's accompanying still
photos relative to the Chronology.  The companion video, like the
material that went along with the Photo Narrative, still consists
largely of still photos, with the script being narrated or dubbed in as
voice background.  For those of you who don't have access to the
companion video I've included the script of the video as a separate
book, and interspersed script extracts into the books, where
appropriate.  I refer to the appropriate clip, often, to illustrate
some portion of the book.
  My motivation for writing and sending out photos at first is obvious,
it grew from a sense of outrage at being abandoned by Eileen, and out
of a desire for revenge.  Even before she'd left the girl had stopped
sleeping with me more or less, mostly less.  As a matter of fact it was
almost by mutual consent.  She'd turned into a no fun fuck.  Even
though the stags had stopped I lived in a detached dream world of
denial of that fact.
  I really went a little nuts, to be frank, denying the realities of
our situation.  In a totally bizarre and looney way I believed that
Eileen was really taking a "sabbatical", a short leave from doing stag
shows, that it was all only temporary, that my little girl would "let
her pussy heal" and that she'd return to doing stags.  To show you how
really out of touch I'd become, I actually continued to arrange for
totally insanely dirty stag shows, which Eileen had no intention in the
world of doing, crazily using photos of her former stag performances to
arrange these nutty affairs, and pulling out at the last moment on
screwball excuses.  It was like the pull of habit.  Most of my time had
been spent arranging stag shows for Eileen, is was my "kick", my high,
and I couldn't give it up.

           Eileen's Destruction of my Porno Library of Her

  Finally, in '76, four years after Eileen had stopped doing the stags,
my poor baby completely broke her ties, walked out, left me with the
kids, took up with a girl who'd been our family friend, but now in a
lesbian relation, and divorced me.  The lesbian relation was new to
both of them, and it was very short-lived.  During the four year dry
spell before the Finale, before Eileen walked out, and after she
stopped doing stags, I found I could live without fucking her, because
I spent those years whacking my fucking dick down to a frazzle, jerking
off over my photo collection of her stag performances, happy as a clam
over these momentoes.
  However, when my now-infuriated wife finally screwed up the courage
to leave me, this lesbian-provoked, revengeful wife of mine grabbed my
entire porno collection, film canisters and all, in its entirety.  The
vast majority of my dirty photo and film collection was centered around
Eileen, with some small excursions.  If I'd retained the collection I
probably would've spent the rest of my years whacking off over images
of the little girl's pussy being pumped by hundreds of different
penises, and her mouth being pumped full of cum.  I might have been too
busy whacking off over memories to write letters.  And these books.  It
was the loss of all that gorgeous dirty material that stimulated this
weird project.  I tried to recapture the images with words.
  So I got even with my ex-wife by spreading around the few surviving
photos I'd retained.  These photos survived because they were random
and low quality filthy photos I'd unintentionally and carelessly kept
clear of the huge hoard, secreting them in odd places, so the kids
wouldn't run across them, but forgetting them, mostly.
  Anyway these dregs of a once spectacular collection, showing Eileen
being fucked and sucking my cock, and shoving veggies up her cunt, were
sent to every guy I could.  It was sort of dumb and careless, but I
really couldn't get over the loss.  I circulated Eileen's dirty photos
via the sexually explicit Swinging mags of the eighties, blabbing about
what a filthy cunt she'd been, advertising as if Eileen was still
actively doing these dirty things with me.  I kept wishing it were
still true.  What an agony, if only she had!!!  It not only stimulated
my correspondents, but it got my overcharged rocks off sending out the
photos.  I continued getting the same ball tingle I'd had before, like
when I'd publicly spread open Eileen's vagina to crowds and watched
human and animal dicks plug her hole and mouth.

               The Last Years of Stag Performances

  From a current perspective I can't blame Eileen for running out on
me.  Those first stags that started in '66, and for a few years after,
were fun and kicks and highs, all the way.  The stags we performed in
the later years were very twisted.  In fact we'd gotten very jaded,
ourselves.  In the beginning my sweet Irish wife was young and sexually
inexperienced.  Frankly, even though Eileen appeared to be very
reserved, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, the little Irish cunt
was normal and had a healthy curiosity about what it would feel like to
stuff other healthy cocks into her very itchy crotch.  And then, out of
her mind with surprise, having started out doing stag shows, and the
gang fucks that went with them, largely to feed my sexual perversion,
my wife herself got a twisted kick out of being gang banged in front of
me, having me witness her getting off her rocks over and over again
with other men's pricks jammed into her cunt.
  Eileen confessed to me one time that she got this enormous kick at
being married to me, and putting the horns on me in public, cuckolding
me right to my face at stag party after stag party, with hundreds and
hundreds of different men pumping her pussy.  My pretty little wife
said that guys would ask her, they'd whisper in her ear, while
vigorously pounding their pudding into her bowl, if it wasn't fun to
get fucked right in front of her husband, forcing him to watch other
guys fuck her, and her fuckers and she would giggle over it, like bad
little kids.  That kick and that thrill was the fuel that kept both of
our sex organs red and swollen in the beginning.
  Toward the end, in the later years, our stag shows got very
perverted.  In those later days I was trotting this little
innocent-looking wife around to stag shows which featured Eileen in sex
performance in front of more and more jaded, glutted and demanding
audiences.  They wanted to watch Eileen get ass-hole fucked, to suck
off blacks and animals, to fuck and suck immature boys.  All of which
she did, including the young boys.  My wife was uncomfortable that
these kids were just a year or two older than her own developing son,
and that our son would soon be the same age as the kids she was sucking
off and fucking.
  Added to that funny feeling in Eileen's mind was increasing desire
from the audiences to view us in family sex acts, mixed with animals,
and so forth.  Worse, though, there were increasingly perverted
"suggestions" and actual intimidations and all sorts of manipulation
from our stag "groupies".  These "groupies" were often the actual Club
contacts and liaisons I worked with in producing stag shows, as well as
guys who hung around with Eileen and me, both after and before the stag
show, proper, these groupies were stag show "fans".
  Quite often, for the extra kick of it, and on an unpredictable and
discretionary basis, Eileen and I, either before or after the show,
would initiate an improvised and stimulating little small-group
side-actions with our groupies.  These mini-stags were a sort of sexual
bonus offered to the Club contacts.  If we pulled off one of these
appetizer shows or fuck sessions, there was always the hope on my part
that this would serve like a sexual "payoff", a bit of sexual
"bakshish".
  I hoped that such sexual extras would bias our contacts a little more
in our favor, in dealing with potential loss of control among the
crowds.  That possibility always hovered over a performance, the chance
of a violent and disgusting gang rape of Eileen, an uncontrolled and
abusive use of her body.  In fact, after our groupies had fucked my
little wife's hole, or shot off their loads into her mouth before the
main bang, the payoff turned out to be very real.  Often enough to be
worth it, the contacts would indeed be protective of Eileen, when the
Club members, drunk, would get loud, vulgar, cursing Eileen like an
ordinary whore.  Our groupies were a great defense, setting the tone
for the other Club members, in many ways, treating her affectionately
and familiarly.
  These "Bonus Boner Bangs" could sometimes take place at the same Club
premises where the main bang occurred, either before the main event
started, or after everyone had gone.  On some occasions we'd go off to
another location, like a friend's private home, or the contact's home,
or even our own motel room and have a little sex appetizer or dessert.
It made the contact or the groupies feel privileged.
  The problem for us with some of these groupies, at the later period
stags, was that frequently a few of these characters turned out to be
little local tin-horn cops, or State Police or Sherrifs, or local
"big-wigs", jerks who thought they could push people around.  Some of
these distasteful bully boys were even, by chance, low-level minor
Mafia-connected clowns, petty ante types.  You could lump them all
together, no difference between cops and Mafia, in terms of sexual
intimidation.  They got their sex kicks from the same source, having
someone sexually in their power.  They got off, really got orgasms from
intimidating couples sexually, they would brag about it to us,
forgetting who we actually were.
  Anyway, some of these slobs and creeps occasionally tried pressuring
Eileen and me, by threats of blackmail and other intimidation, like
implying how easy it would to get us busted, and even worse, physically
mashed up by muscle, if we didn't go along with indulging their
perverted tastes.  And their tastes ran to having us indulge in family
sex on stage with our young kids, for their amusement.  The fact that I
always carried a snub-nose had a chilling effect on some of that.  But
not enough, as far as I was concerned.
  As we moved into the '70s, in just that five years from when we
started doing stags, the climate had changed.  It was wilder, less
intimidating, because obscenity laws had been blown off the books, but
I felt we were in very dangerous and threatening territory.  It was
hard to avoid in the private Club stag scene.  Clubs could now get
amateurs, suddenly, to do anything, anything at all in front of them.
Both Eileen and I felt the menace.
  In '66, when we did our first stag I started out being afraid of
being arrested by the cops.  Not Eileen, my ninny never had the thought
cross her simple mind.  Eileen never read the news, and when our
neighbors got busted in '64, for similar activities, Eileen walked
around in coo-coo land, being very sympathetic to them, but never
really paying attent+ion to the gruesome details, the way I did.  She
never personalized it, applied it to our situation, thought it could
happen to us.  In spite of these unpleasant overtones I still could
find some "clean fun" situations, but the newer demands of the
seventies finally blew Eileen's fuse.

               A Dumb Way to Destroy my Collection

  Anyway, after doing stags for over six years Eileen flew the coop,
and for good reason, in retrospect.  From what I just said you can see
how nasty things were starting to be in the stag scene.  And she was
over thirty and no angel anymore.  But Eileen really pulled guerrilla
warfare on me by destroying my collection.  What amazed me was that the
silly asshole didn't even bother to burn it all, she and her lesbo
girl-friend just dumped the contents out of her car trunk packed in
closed cardboard cartons, intact, onto a pile of trash in a Town Dump
near our own Town.  Dopes!!  The damned stuff could've broken open, or
some nosey clown could've found it and Eileen's pussy would've been
famous among friends and neighbors.  Eileen wasn't thinking straight
about anything, anything at all when she broke and ran.  She left me
with our kids, after having been such a super Mommy.
  I'd had four lock-safe file drawers packed with eleven years worth of
instant cock erection.  There were black and white and color prints,
Polaroids, slides and 16 mm movies that showed my little housewife
jamming stuff into her pussy and fucking and sucking incredible numbers
and different kinds and shapes and colors of cock.  I'd photographed &
printed up at least ten thousand prints, and Lord knows how many slides
and Polaroids.  And maybe even a hundred hours of 16 mm sound film,
some of it from stag parties, some from little sex exhibitions we used
to do for pleasure in abandoned or deserted public places at odd hours.
  All of it was high quality, sharp and unique, especially the animal
sex portions at the stag shows.  These included a unique and
spectacular set of reels I took of Eileen getting her pussy fucked by
the front end of a little donkey's dong, where the donkey actually
dumped this huge stream of cum into the little mother's cunt hole
because I used a lubricated jerk-off tube I slid over the full length
of little animal's dong to stimulate an ejaculation.
  The first five years' worth of the collection, taken before I'd
gotten Eileen to fuck crowds at stags, showed Eileen in solo sex, that
is either jamming stuff into her cunt hole, or having sex with her
husband.  The collection from the early years progressed from nudes to
more outrageous acts.  I "stage managed" a bunch of phonied up sets
that made it look as if Eileen was doing sex acts that had never
happened in reality, to stimulate my fantasies.
  Our earlier photos were spread pussy shots in our home.  Then I
seduced Eileen into posing for photos of me jamming my happy little red
cock into her hairy pussy, with her acrobatic body bent and contorted
into every possible position, or eating my cum in all sorts of deserted
places, like in the empty school I mentioned before, and other public
buildings in our little Town, when I'd succeed in getting keys to those
places.  We did fuck around in our Church, and the only shots I dared
to take were photos of Eileen giving me a blow job in the minister's
study, because the study had no window and the flash wouldn't be
visible outside the Church.
  These were all tame compared to the photos in the collection dating
from the last six years.  This was the crazy stuff, it showed Eileen
performing for stag shows, sucking off cock line-ups, and getting her
young mother's cunt penetrated by animal cock, with bunches of blacks
roasting her at both ends on the spit of their pricks, like some little
pig with its mouth stuffed over a fire.
  Pitiful odds and ends of my once glorious collection survived the
destructive onslaught, a hundred or so photos and slides that had been
overlooked, hidden in various places in the house to keep them away
from our kids.  In spite of precautions, though, one of our baby
sitters had gotten hold of samples of my secreted photos, but I'll tell
about that in another book.  Anyway, deprived of my collection I got
bugged on trying to remember how incredible it had all been, but I
didn't have my photos to stimulate me.  You must be able to see how
frustrated I was.  Which was partly the reason I started to write.  To
remember.

                 Training Eileen for Stags

  You'll see I'm not a real writer.  I'm certainly a piggie.  But not a
real writer.  Of course I'd love it if this book made you feel like you
were looking over my shoulder, watching Eileen's cunt get filled, or
even inside my skin, feeling my dick being sucked like a vacuum cleaner
by my pretty woman's pretty mouth.  This is not the fantasy of some
teen-age jerk-off artist imitating Playboy or Penthouse letters.  That
kind of shit, describing cocks and cunts and tits and assholes in
repetitive "flowery" language keeps my dick limp.  Some of you guys may
not like real sex description.  Virgin teen-agers eat up that crap
about "sweet" cunts and "creamy" cum.
  When I was trading photos I got "fantasy" bullshit back from some of
my correspondents.  By contrast, when I say that a cunt smells like toe
cheese, that's on the level.  Some lousy cunts smell that way for the
same reason that all toes smell that way.  Cunts and toes are moist and
sweaty, with no air.  The skin oil rots or ferments like any fat, and
when it rots it stinks.  And I don't call cum "creamy".  It's not.  It
could be lumpy and stringy, and real foul-tasting, especially for my
wife, sometimes.  In fact sometimes it made my wife gag, the cum from
some guys, if they ate the wrong things.  She'd occasionally bitch
about it.  Like mother's milk picks up tastes from what a gal eats.
You are what you eat.
  O.K., enough of this philosophical bull-shit.  Let's go back to '66.
The news magazines were full of stuff about the Beatles, Andy Warhol,
the Velvet Underground, psychedelic light shows, the Vietnam War.  On
the sex scene topless dancers got busted and fined for showing bare tit
in San Francisco.  Honest!  Showing nipples without pasties, without
little nipple cups, nipple brassieres.  How's that for medieval?  And
bare pussy!!  Jail sentences!!
  Ordinary people got tossed into the clink for doing sex acts that
were yawn material, ten years later, like in the sex peep shows along
42nd Street in New York.  You can sense that the same sort of legal sex
repression is starting up again these days.  You can go to jail right
now in Georgia for having your wife suck you off in the privacy of your
own bedroom, because of a new law.  Some dude in Georgia is currently
serving ten years because his wife fucked him over that way.  That's
the way it was then, only ten times worse than today.  Hugh Hefner of
Playboy fame was constantly harassed for just showing bare tit.  For
sure.  But now, the sixties are coming back, a nudist magazine, today,
one that shows anybody under 18 naked, not even sexually involved, is
open to prosecution in Massachusetts for "child pornography".  The
wheel turns.  It's coming back.
  So what really happened?  I'll give you a sample of what it was like.
At heart Eileen was shy, but she'd do anything I wanted her to to make
me happy, sexually.  But it was all very tricky.  She had to be
properly "handled".  I'll tell ya', I had to do a lot of manipulating,
a lot of screwin' around to bend this gullible, completely trusting
Catholic wife of mine into satisfying even some of my less perverted
sex acts, in the early  months of our marriage.  Sooner or later she'd
do it all, but I had to concentrate.  It wasn't only me that got my
rocks off at conning the little dummy.  My blue-eyed sweetie pie
herself got a kick out of the seduction game.  Even if she didn't know
what was in my twisted brain, my tootsie knew she was going to end up
doing what I wanted.  But the cunt loved to play extra innocent, just
to tease me.
  It took time.  Like when we all lived in Camelot, and Kennedy was
"in", my 19 year old wife was being drawn into the exhibitionism.  Five
years later, post Beatles, long hair and flower children and LSD Eileen
was showing off in public, for an audience.  Here I was, 39, and
balding, a very unattractive Italian.  I was married to this movie star
quality wife, who was only 24.  You know what Eileen looks like, either
from my description, or looking at the video.
  Here are the two of us in this scene.  We're both at a VFW party in a
hick town near Brockton Mass.  Let me call it Easton, a real little
cow-town that time let pass by.  Here's this darling five foot high
wife of mine, a good mother of two small kids, out for a night on the
town with her husband. The two of us are dancing on a miniature dance
floor to the romantic sound of a tune crooning from a jukebox.  As a
couple we're both dressed the way people do for cocktails and dinner.
I'm in a three-piece brown business suit, gold watch and all.  My
blue-eyed wife is dressed very "upper class", a tasteful orange and red
paisley satin blouse, deep green woolen skirt, deep green, warm panty
hose kinds of things, and low heels.
  We're doing a showy solo on a dance floor in this little Club.  The
Club may have had a ship outside, on its sign, I'm vague on this.
Maybe it was called something like the Diplomat, or some such name,
that didn't go with the ship sign.  I don't remember exactly, it's
possible, even at the best of times, to confuse one Club with another
when you go out "dancing".  Anyway, there we are, my wife and I, all
dressed up to go out to dinner, and now we're dancing under intense
spotlights.  Eileen is a great, talented dancer.  She makes it all look
so easy.  Nothing unusual.  But Eileen is the only gal in that Club
that night, all alone, in a room packed to the rafters with VFW Club
members and invited male-only guests.
  So what are we doing here?  Well, this audience of small town hicks
are drooling in hot anticipation of what's been promised for that
night.  Before we'd arrived at their darkened Club they'd been
circulating tasteful "artistic" nude color prints I'd made of Eileen,
and which I'd lent them for weeks before the show.  These prints were
lying around on the bar tables, being glanced at from time to time by
the drooling patrons as my suburban-looking little wife and I dance
lovingly in front of them, kissing, cooing at each other.  My wife's
ordinarily pale white face is red in the cheeks, flushed with
excitement in anticipation of what is going to happen.
  Eileen has never done what I'm about to try with her, in her life.
There's a lot of suspense in the air, because the deal I worked with
this Club was that no-one could guarantee that this little girl
wouldn't get cold feet at the last minute.  It might be just too much
for my wife, because I wasn't quite sure the little mother could
actually strip off her clothes and bare herself naked in front of them,
no less fuck her husband or do anything like that.  I assured them that
my little housewife had never taken off her clothes in front of a crowd
of leering guys prepared to watch her husband fuck her mouth and cunt,
no less spread her legs for them to get a crack at her slit.  These
guys are sweaty, panting to take out their dicks and jam them into all
her holes at once if I can get her fucking me in front of them.
  Finally, after unbearable suspense, I don't strip my quivering,
panting wife totally naked.  No.  But what I do, on the shellacked
wooden dance floor, is to help Eileen, fully dressed, to step out of
her panty hose after she kicks off her shoes, one after the other.  The
first step!!  The flood gates are opened.  The guys howl with delight.
Both Eileen and I take the cheer with raised arms, like victorious
prize fighters, while flashbulbs from cameras pop off.  That won't be
the last of those for the night.  Excited, giggling, laughing my head
off, I bring out a chair, Eileen bends down, her head on the chair,
and, with a flourish I jerk up my own wife's skirt while she spreads
her legs wide as she can for them to peer up her naked and exposed
wide-open hairy little mother's gash.
  When the impossible finally happens in front of their goggle-eyes,
the girl's pussy is swollen and glistening fiery red as the exposed
organ actually drools a string of pussy wet down her inner thigh,
waiting for her red-faced and shaking husband to drop his pants and jam
his overheated cock up her hole.  How about that!!!  This is 1966 and a
cunt bush exposed in a San Francisco Topless Bar gets some poor girl 30
days in the slammer.  But here's a straight suburban mother of two
small kids getting her pussy pumped for show!!!
  This first Club stag turned out to be Act I in a long, crazy, bunch
of sex acts, all part of these exhibitionist adventures with Eileen.
At first this was my private sex fun.  Performances in deserted places,
pretending I was fucking my wife in front of imaginary audiences.  What
I did for private kicks eventually became real public entertainment.
  The sex shows that Eileen gave were unlike anything seen elsewhere,
before or since.  Nothing I've ever read before about stags is like
what we did.  The point is that modern swingers are so jaded, do sex so
much by formula, that one whorish gang bang or stag show is pretty much
like the other.  Why even bother?  They're all the same.  But back then
I didn't know there was any formula for a stag show.  When a Club
wanted a formula stag show I told them to hire some whore.  I just
didn't know any better.  I'd never seen a stag show.  I knew what would
be a wild send-up for me.  It turned out to be the same for my
audiences.  What gave me kicks gave them kicks.  I was an amateur.  The
acts that Eileen and I performed blew guys heads straight away, each
stag different at each club, never the same.


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                       Epilogue

  If these reworks of Pace's "Books", as he calls them, interest you,
I will continue to post them here.  From start to finish each page
costs me about an hour and a half out of a busy life.  Reactions are
motivating.   Especially appreciative reactions.  I am not a
masochist and do not thrive on negative or nasty carping.  Comments
can be left to me privately, by invoking the R security restriction
on Rusty & Edie's BBS.  I will answer.
  I believe that what Pace described really did happen.  Would also
appreciate feedback in the form of remarks or information from other
people about other couples who indulged in similar activities.  Or
first person descriptions by males who may have attended either
Pace's performances, or other such performances by amateurs,
especially from the New York, Chicago, Dallas, New Orleans, LA or Bay
Area.
  Such couples as Pace and his wife Eileen intrigue me.  If anyone
has has indulged in similar activity, correspondence or email of any
quality would be appreciated.

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