Friday, September 30, 2005

Meet the Nubians

Summer brought some benefits for my sex parties, and some detriments.

Happily, Marcus and Meg, who can’t join us during the academic year, were able to attend.

Sadly, a good many regulars were scrambled to the far corners by vacations, school breaks and other commitments.

I might have taken this as a moment to put up a “gone fishing” sign and close up shop for a while.

But I was hesitant to do so. My biweekly bivouac of bisexuals has recently bypassed its second anniversary—we are now bi-annual.

You hate to bilk a bonny binge.

So instead, I took the summer as an opportunity to do some recruiting that would, I hoped, yield like minds and new faces for our ongoing gang.

I reached out to other orgy organizers—I am not the only person in New York City hosting sex parties, you know—to ask that their members be informed about our gatherings.

I dropped a line to Apollo the Sex God.

My parties found a niche by focusing on singles who are bisexual, or at least “bi friendly,” a term essentially meaning that what happens at the parties, stays at the parties.

Apollo’s niche has him organizing parties for black and Latin couples, with a smattering of single women and men. The parties, dubbed “Nubian,” were based in Brooklyn.

Apollo was glad to compare notes, but he wasn’t sure that his crew held many new recruits. He told me that while the women at his parties tended to be bisexual, the men were not.

At least so far as you know, I corrected.

That double standard is pretty typical for couples parties—the women are assumed to be bisexual, and the men must not be bisexual, no matter the reality.

Apollo mentioned that the Nubians were beginning to outgrow his place in Brooklyn, and asked about our accommodations.

I invited him over to take a look.

Apollo—his real name is Doug, “Apollo the Sex God” being his self-styled nom de baiser—is a handsome man in his mid-twenties. He has the build of a high school athlete and a natural smile that he long ago realized would melt knees if flashed at the just the right time.

“Nice place, Jefferson,” he smiled, touring the bedrooms.

“Thanks. For the parties, you know, I put out different bedding, and candles and all that, but you get the idea.”

“Yeah man, this is great, and a good neighborhood.”

“Yep. Close to the subway, and cabs fly by at all hours.”

“Yeah, that’s really great.”

We sat to talk turkey.

He explained that he hosts the parties with his girlfriend, Evangeline. “Evangeline” was not her real name, of course. Nor was she his real girlfriend. She was his playmate; his real girlfriend knew nothing about his recent forays into the “lifestyle,” as he said, because she lived down south.

I’m Southern, so I asked where she lived.

Turns out she lived in my hometown.

We laughed.

“It’s beautiful there, man,” he said. “I really hope to move down there soon, to be with my girl.”

“It’s a great place to be from,” I agreed.

Since we were practically neighbors, we decided to combine forces.

“Why don’t you try throwing your party here?” I invited. “See if it’s a fit.”

“That’s great, man, great,” he nodded. “We’ll do the next one here, if that’s cool.”

I penciled it in.

We shook hands.

A week or two passed. Apollo and I traded emails and phone calls in preparation.

I left the guest list to him. None of my regulars would be invited. I wanted to see what he could produce.

Besides, my gang didn’t fit his demographic.

Not that I did, for that matter.

Apollo and I were fine with that. As a solo white boy, I was prepared to co-host as a fly on the wall.

On the appointed night, Apollo and Evangeline showed up right on time, carrying boxes of supplies.

Evangeline and I kissed in greeting. She was outgoing and dressed to kill in a low black top and high skirt, her breasts pushed up into a womanly cleavage that offset her youthful face.

Apollo had told me she was twenty-two. I’d have bet a good deal younger.

At my behest, the pair made themselves at home.

Candles and incense were lit, refreshments were placed, condoms and lubes strategically arrayed. My stereo was rewired with new equipment and stocked with mix CDs.

“We’re low on ice,” I noted from the kitchen.

“On it,” Apollo replied, popping open his cell. “Yo, Miller, pick up some ice, all right?”

“Better get some bottled water, too—the small bottles.”

“Hey yo, Miller, get those little bottles of water.” Apollo added. “I dunno man, get a lot.”

The supplies arrived, hoisted by the two beefs appointed to security detail.

I liked the way they worked.

I took a bourbon to the terrace to relax as they made final preparations.

The guests began to arrive. I joined Apollo and Evangeline in making greetings. As Apollo had said, he knew his guests well. I was introduced as his friend and co-host. I shook hands and kissed cheeks.

I soon found myself seated with a dark woman sporting a red Mohawk.

She was built like a brick shithouse—and cool as an igloo.

She introduced herself as Consuela.

We chatted as she flipped though photography books on my coffee table. I learned that she was a photographer.

As it happens, I know a thing or two about photography.

We were soon wrapped in conversation.

The cool thawed considerably.

Evangeline is a firm believer in the use of party games to break the ice. She brought out the game Operation and invited everyone to gather around.

“I didn’t come here to play games,” Consuela muttered into her book.

“Games are for kids,” I agreed. “Shall we fuck and get things going?”

“You know,” she looked towards me. “That’s just what I was thinking.”

“Come, then,” I stood. “I know just the place.”

She followed me to my bedroom. We kissed by candlelight.

Her hands were as fast on me as mine were on her.

We paused and stripped with the calm practice of gymnasts, mentally moving ahead to our routines.

I lay back on the bed, stroking my cock.

She crouched over me and took it in her mouth.

She arched and flexed her back as she bobbed her head, producing the desired effect on me as well as the eyes gathering at the door.

I reached for a condom, staring at her.

A moment later, she was lowering her pussy onto me.

And I was in her.

“Consuela?”

“Yeah?”

“Say my name.”

“Jefferson.”

“That’s right, baby.”

I drew her into a kiss.

I pushed up into her in long thrusts, providing an anchor for the undulations of her body. She glowed in the candlelight, clearly aware of how her movements affected gazing eyes.

The dial on my clock radio had been shifted to the far right side of the FM dial. Bumping rhythms covered those filtering in from the living room.

Consuela and I danced back and forth.

No one entered passed the door. Apollo’s rules: couples only in the bedrooms.

Consuela and I were the first couple.

Apollo brought in Evangeline. He stripped and sat in a chair, taking her petite body in his hands. She turned and twisted under his touch as he undressed her.

It was all about the show. We were putting on our best.

Evangeline looked over her shoulder and raised her ass as Apollo sat back. “C’mere, back up that ass,” he ordered. She gave herself to his reach, moaning as he took her to his cock.

I pushed up on Consuela’s shoulders, bringing my mouth up to her breasts.

I opened wide and swallowed a tit.

“Hmmm, yeah, that’s hitting it,” she sighed, undulating her hips rapidly on me.

“Give it,” I murmured through my mouthful of flesh, digging my fingers into her flanks.

Consuela moaned loud and long, giving me the orgasm I sought.

Evangeline answered in her own punctured breaths.

“Shit baby, I need to fuck that ass,” Apollo said, slapping flesh. “Get up.”

She raised herself from his shaft. He had a nice long curve, I noted.

“Lean on the bed, baby.” Evangeline bent over my leg, propped on one elbow as she looked back, offering her ass to Apollo.

“You gonna fuck me?” she teased.

“Shit yeah, you’re getting fucked,” he laughed.

He looked down as his cock vanished into her, then switched his hips into overdrive.

She collapsed over my leg, moaning.

I pulled back a bit to give her more space

Consuela misread my movement. “You leaving me?” she asked, pursing her lips.

“Not on your life,” I said. “Here, let me on top.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” She raised herself from me, and I lifted myself to my knees.

I looked over my shoulder at the voyeurs at the door. “Here, turn this way,” I suggested, positioning her head towards the opposite wall, near Evangeline’s hips.

I held my cock as I lowered it between her labia.

“There we go,” I said, leaning into her.

“Yeah, that got it.”

“Good, ‘cause here I come.”

I fucked into her fast, aiming my cock up and back.

I nodded howdy to Apollo as we matched pace.

“Yeah man,” he laughed. He called to someone at the door. “Some shit, huh?”

“No shit,” came the reply.

Evangeline looked to the door then up at me.

I fell to kiss Consuela.

The four of us fucked a good show until Evangeline called for a break.

“Yeah, count me in,” Consuela said. “I need some water, bad.”

“Here, let’s go to the terrace and cool off,” I suggested, pulling out.

We sat back, catching a breath.

“Oh very nice!” someone said as we passed among the clothed bodies in the hall. “Very nice, very nice!”

I followed Consuela, watching voyeurs part way as eyes took her in.

A hand caught mine.

“Hey,” I smiled. “Welcome. I’m Jefferson.”

“Hey Jefferson,” a voice replied. She bit a lip as she raised hazel eyes to mine. “I’m Maria.”







15 comments:

Anonymous said...

ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod don't stop don't stop fuck fuck fuck!

Madeline Glass said...

Say it loud and there's music playing,
Say it soft and it's almost like praying...

Meg said...

ahhh, the nubians. at last!

Viviane said...

I wanna be a Nubian too!

Dacia said...

Lovely to see this story onyour blog at last. I second Viviane's sentiment!

Anonymous said...

When it comes to pseudonym harvesting, can I please encourage you to move on from the letter "M"?

Madeline Glass said...

Oh, I couldn't disagree more.

In fact, I think you should run with the M names. Like this:

My madcap misadventures in the Middle of Manhattan with Madeline the Misguided, marcus the Misunderstood, Meg-on-the-Mend and More!

On the Next One Life, Take Two.

More to come, Mofos.

Jefferson said...

Maybe, Madeline.

My meandrous memory is meliorated by mnemonics, but merciless malcontents maintain I must minimize my mania.

Viviane said...

No mas!

Seraglio said...

I prefer the Sybians, myself. Lovely people.

Anonymous said...

So it was a success - a few new recuits :)

Things are kind of weird with swingers of "color"...haha. The girls are always bi, the guys are always homophobic, and if theyre not homophobic, theyre on the "dl", or "down low"

Anyways, I miss the parties. I honestly think it was the healthiest sexual outlet I had...haha. I shall return soon! :)

Anonymous said...

It's Will, by the way...haha

W. S. Cross said...

Good in its own way, but it would be nice to hear more. If this is "The Nubians, Part 1," then I stand corrected.

Jefferson said...

Don't worry, W. S. We've not heard the last of the Nubians.

Dausa said...

I could accept not being a Nubian, but stories like this make me wish I were a New Yorker (or at least closer to the east coast)!