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I had seen her around the building from time to time. She had a sweet face and a placid demeanor and seemed like a nice, plump girl. I had no idea what kind of figureshe had, since she always wore big, loose mu-mu dresses. At about 2:30 a.m. on the second night of the blackout, after we had killed about two-thirds of a bottle of cheap red wine that she'd brought, she announced she really would prefer to stay with me rather than risk waking her roommate (whom I'd always found more attractive) by coming home late. Between the emotional shock of the breakup a few weeks before and my weariness (an hour of sleep at a time was rare) and the wine, I thought it sounded reasonable -- and no more than that. But in the darkness of my bedroom, I felt something against my face, then something else. I stood and lit a candle and discovered Barbie had absolutely enormous breasts. "Where did THOSE come from?" I'd demanded. She'd laughed -- gently, as with everything else -- and beckoned me back to bed. I was rather unprepared for the body so carefully hidden under the loose, oversize dresses. Imagine a woman who's five foot tall, has 32-inch hips, a twenty-five inch waist and a bra labeled 32-D ... and who overflows the brasierre's cups.

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True, the day before she headed for JFK and her transAtlantic flight, Annie and I lolled about in bed for about eighteen hours of sexual bliss. True, June stopped by the very next day, flipped up her skirt to reveal her pantyless cunt, grabbed her ankles and winked at me upside down between her knees. But that was going to be it. Ahh well, I figured. I needed to spend more time at the Selectric. And in a pinch, there were always the Palm Sisters and Fond Memories. Hell, what was ten days? I told myself. It could be a very long time, I told myself. To my amazement, on the Thursday night that Annie left for France and June left for Albany, I got a phone call from Philly: Barbie Shelton was coming to town. I had known Barb for about four years, at that point. She'd lived with Bertha, also an NYU student, in the same building as me during the Great Blackout of '77 and had come down to keep me company. Bertha knew I had just had a very bad breakup and was going -- quite literally -- crazy. Barbie saved my life. No shit -- I was seriously contemplating suicide when she decided to take me under her wing.

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But things were not perfect. For one thing, their periods coincided. No big deal, I thought, since it didn't bother me, either for fucking or sucking. But June was uncomfortable and Annie got cranky. And that was the least of it. See, while June was about to be tied up with her Jaycees project, Annie was about to spend two weeks visiting friends in France. She was doubly annoyed at the timing. I, on the other hand, had gotten used to fucking two or three times each day, sometimes with more than one woman -- and now I was looking forward (if that's the right term) to about ten days of Doing Without.

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She was also completely uninhibited. Annie would do anything that felt good and anything she didn't like, she wouldn't do. She could suck cock expertly, loved to be licked, enjoyed cock in her cunt from any angle and enjoyed ass fucking. She was multiorgasmic in the extreme and very vocal about it. She liked men, she liked women, she liked threesomes, she had even enjoyed orgies. When I was fifteen and jerking off, I would construct the perfect sexual partner in my imagination. That image was Annie. I had to wait till I was in my late twenties to meet her and discover that reality could exceed imagination. Not only was she lovely, incredibly sexy and sweet, she was smart and perceptive. Of course, if this was fiction, Annie and June would have drooled over each other at first sight and we all would have fucked off together into the sunset. The fact was, though, that June hated the idea of doing anything with another woman and Annie didn't find June attractive (Annie liked -- and likes -- women with larger breasts and voluptuous hips and has a special weakness for long nipples.) In a way, that was no problem for me, since -- oddly enough -- being in bed with more than one woman at once has never been one of my major fantasies. In another way, it was a good thing. Considering how passionate and sexual both women were, a man caught between them in bed would have gone up in a puff of smoke. No cremation necessary; by dawn, there'd have been nothing left of the poor bastard but ashes. I should have been in pig heaven. Here were two women whom I found tremendously attractive and felt the same way about me. For one reason or another, neither was willing to assert a claim of exclusivity on me. One was willing to get weird at the drop of a dildo, while the other simply Liked Doing Things. And one of them was going to be busy -- and had a sore ass! -- for a few days while the other was more than eager to make up a little lost time.

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My game was to run it up in my head. (Not that tough, dividing by sixteen and keeping a running total, once you practice it; try it and see.) That scared customers who weren't accustomed to using those mental muscles. They only trusted calculators and adding machine tapes. So I had this deal: If they wanted, I would run it up on the adding machine. If I was wrong, they got the coffee free -- I would pay for it out of my own pocket. If I was right, they'd pay a fifty percent premium ... to me. Few took me up on it. Those that did, lost -- always. Annie came in on a crowded Sunday and ordered two ounces of this and three ounces op that and so forth. Ended up with six different beans in the pound. When I turned to tell her the price, she said, "Wait a minute -- five seventy....three? Yes. Yes. Five seventy- three, if you round up for a half-cent." That's what got my attention. Then her face. I asked her if she was half-Chinese and half-Irish. She had reddish-brown hair and a fine boned faced. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes were slanted. She explained that she was part Magyar -- the result of Mongolians overrunning eastern Europe Way Back When. Her face was fascinating and her mind was terrific. Her body was outrageous. Imagine a woman who's just over five- foot-one and weighs about ninety pounds. Sounds scrawny, right? No way. She was very small-boned. Annie had absolutely beautiful, perfectly formed, firm and sumptuous breasts. Her waist was slender and her hips were narrow. She had a delectable little ass and the tastiest cunt...

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At the time I met June, I had already known - in every sense - Annie for more than two years. I, like she in those pre-AIDS days, had other lovers. Annie knew about June, and June knew about Annie. Annie was a lot more at ease with the idea of June than vice-versa. When I said June and I fucked about every eight hours on the average, I meant "average." Annie and I spent two nights a week together, usually. Annie, like June, was a couple of years younger than me. We'd met when I was working a part-time job selling coffees and teas, during a publishing drought. What first got my attention was, oddly enough, her mind. I had a game I sometimes played with customers. Since the various coffees we sold had different per-pound prices, blends called for some arithmetic. After all, a couple of ounces of Kenya Double-A at $4 per pound and a quarter pound of French Roast Columbian at $3.65 a pound and two ounces of Yemen Mocha at $5.10 a pound, etc., gets one into the realm of challenging numbers. I made a gam of it.

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She was working with the Jaycees (yes, they exist and even flourish in the Big Apple) on the Special Olympics, a sports competition for "special" children. Special meant retarded, for the most part, and frequently, physically disabled. In addition to her routine 60-hour-plus-4 a.m.-Telex weeks, June donated her enormous energies and ingenuity to things like the Special Olympics. The timing of the sore asshole, in a way, couldn't have been better. The program was going to greatly limit the time we had together for the next week -- and it was one of the many reasons I was becoming more and more taken with her.

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It so happened that we didn't fuck for about three days after that. On the average, we fucked about every eight hours, so this was quite a long time. And it was just as well, in a way: "My asshole is sore." "I -- I'm not surprised," I said. "I wish it wasn't -- but I liked the way it got sore." I thought about my next words. "And so did you." Her eyes blazed at me. I saw the anger beginning in her face - - and then it collapsed. "I know -- but that's what the gay boys do, isn't it? Do you wish I was a boy?" I started to laugh -- and then realized she was only half- joking. "June, I like licking your cunt," I said quietly. "And so do you. Does that mean you wish I was a woman -- since cuntlicking is what lesbians do?" Her eyes half closed and she shivered. "I know!" She seemed amazed. "It makes me itchy when you say that -- but you know I don't like lesbians." I licked my lips and stepped toward her. She put her small hand against my chest, keeping me away. I didn't press it. Even if I'd been the kind of moronic asshole who tries to force himself on someone else, there was something else to consider: June had been an auxiliary cop in Singapore, with the attendant martial arts training. We'd sparred playfully a few times. She was just as fast as I and a helluvalot more deceptive in her movements. I knew I could absorb enormous damage, and use my superior strength to prevail, but I had no desire to do so -- and I didn't know if there were subconscious resentments in this hard-bodied young woman that could make a playful blow slip and do serious damage. This was just another equality that made her attractive to me: June could not be forced to do anything. Whatever she did, it was by choice. "But!" She laughed and dropped her hand. She knew my respect for her prowess -- and, more importantly, simply for her. "But!" I nodded ruefully. "I know."

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At four-thirty, Mark had allowed her a brief respite. "I need to tell you some things." Mark had begun, "I believe you want me to stay, and that you love me. "I believe you will try to change, and I'll let your actions for the week speak for themselves. "I also know that you're still holding back something. We'll go over that tomorrow night. I'm getting too tired." Alice crawled up in his lap and kissed him several times. She had never come so many times in a single night before. "One last thing, "Mark continued, "listening to you has made me horny. As long as you're naked, it seems like a waste not to do something about it." Mark led her to their bedroom. He stacked pillows near the center of the bed. He positioned Alice over them. Standing to one side, he undressed. Alice's relief as he plunged into her pussy was short lived as he pulled out and slid his variously lubricated cock into her ass.

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Alice tried to hold still as Mark's fingers followed the traces up her legs to her sex. His finger went on onto her mound, and after a second, right into her well fucked hole. It was while Alice was trying not to react to the shame of such an examination that Mark slapped her ass for the first time. "Count them." "One." And so it went to twenty-five. With each slap, Mark's finger explored more of her cunt. Then with his fingers in her hole, and his thumb on her clit, Mark had begun the inquisition. He had insisted on each detail of what she had done, leaving out only the name of her partner. Alice was so relieved that she held nothing back ... for long. At each new act, Alice had tried to hide how easily she had allowed herself to be used by Dave. Each evasion brought not a new round of spanking, but a new level of sensation on her clit. By four A.M., weak with orgasms, Alice had told him every detail, save one. She had not told him that she had gone down on him after he had fucked her.

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