Honey Bea's Orgy

I did another guitar tune, and I had a longish solo. Kimmy, who was close to the sofa, got to screaming again, and I totally lost my concentration. My clock was cleaned, I forgot which song I was on, perhaps where I was, and even which planet. Somehow, my fingers groped for notes, just to keep continuity and rhythm, and I fumbled with the notes for some time, and finally regained my composure a bit. I managed to finish off the song, and contemplated my next move.

Jerry Garcia once said about his guitar playing and improvisation, "if you stop trying to make anything happen on any level whatsoever, other stuff starts to happen. We did this in the acid tests, and learned great stuff. I can't think of any other context in which we could've learned it."

Picking up my banjo, I tried to do some very simple noodling around, not going to any particular song. I noticed that this gave me a bit more control - I didn't have to force anything in particular in the way of a pre-planned solo. It was much easier then to ride the waves, and I started to pick up on the rhythms of the room, and felt like I slowly gained some synchronization to the motion, and, then, curiously enough, it felt like people were keying into my rhythms and things seemed to match up. At that point, there was a kind of phase lock that happened. If I played too fast, the rhythm of fucking slowed me down. If one person screwed too slowly, my banjo picking seemed to get them back into the groove. I recall seeing Anita give anti-Dan a very vigorous blow job. He was perched on a bar stool, and had both of her ears in his hand, and seemed to be pushing her head down for all it was worth. I had a bit of rueful envy, to tell the truth for anti-Dan, as he was able to unabashedly give himself over to lustful abandon, whereas I was always worrying about protocol and etiquette, and yet, with the banjo, I'd managed to find my own little groove. Very odd. Anti-Dan came all over Anita's chest, leaving her with the "pearl necklace".

Long after the party, Honey Bea and I compared notes on what had transpired. She said that she'd been in the middle of a sandwich of Dave and anti-Dan, and had a modest epiphany in listening to the banjo picking. According to her, successive waves of warmth seemed to wash over her, and she felt transported. Somehow the actions of the party had acquired a large significance than the simple carnal acts. I have to say that, although I was concentrating on this new way of playing music - adaptive synchronization with the rhythm of fucking - that I did feel a bit elevated beyond the simple concerns of orgy etiquette.

At some point during the long improvisational solo, which I judged to last about 30 or 40 minutes, I did build up the pace, and volume, and the "nastiness" of the notes, if you can all it that. When I did this, it seemed to lead to an explosion of orgasms throughout the room, yells, grunts, sighs and so forth. I slowly let the music become more melancholic and reflective as people backed down off their peaks, and acquired a more attentive audience. Finally a period of silence ensued.

I had noted little Kimmy, who'd had the most serious workout, was by far the youngest and was quite attractive. She was taking a break from the four guys who had her legs in the air for the better part of two hours, sitting on one of the barstools, drinking some wine. I figured that after that mass expenditure of semen, that I might have a small window of opportunity with Kimmy. Putting away my banjo, I walked over a number of wilted individuals on the rug, and went over to Kimmy. I recall kissing her neck, wondering if she'd take me or refuse me. Much to my delight, she answered my kisses with deeper and deeper tongue, which seemed like "yes" to me. Working slowly down, first to her breasts, and then to her pussy, I worked on her, kneeling before the barstool, and feeling her squirm in her seat while I gently probed her. She squirmed forward a bit in the seat to afford me more access to her genitals, which I gratefully rewarded with deeper application of my tongue and fingers. Juices flowed down my fingers from her fuck hole and into the crack of her bum, leaving a moist trail down the edge of the seat. I probed her for some time, until I felt her vaginal muscles clench around my fingers, and a loud moan emanated from her mouth.

Now, dear reader, I have to confess something you may find a bit disappointing: I do not recall the crucial next ten minutes with Kimmy. I utterly blacked out the memory of what I was told was a most memorable sight. This is even stranger since I wasn't drunk in the least, or high, or anything other than in a highly altered state of mind. I can only go by what people told me they saw that evening, but since it's been corroborated by three or four of the participants, I suppose it must be true.

The sight was this: my jeans were down at my ankles, Kimmy was sitting on the edge of the barstool, with one arm wrapped around each of two men's shoulders: Sean and Rajeev. Sean and Rajeev both were holding up Kimmy's legs from behind the knees to afford me easy access to Kim's hole, while I fucked her vigorously. I guess the restraint of her knees were kind because she was tired, but it also lent a bit of a, how do I say this, gang-bang air to the whole proceedings. According to Honey Bea, seen from behind my butt was clenching forward with each thrust I made, and Kimmy's tits jiggled quite a bit with each push. Apparently this was a very hot scene, and made everyone at the party stop in their tracks, as they all felt this strange energy that seemed to flow out of our pubic regions. Oh, to have remembered it!!!

I do recall stepping away from Kimmy, having finished, and getting a glass of ice water at the fridge.

I knew that things were winding down, so I collected my pizza making implements, and put my instruments into their cases. Kimmy and Sean and Dave were all collapsed in a heap of flesh on the floor. I'd realized, much to my chagrin that I hadn't taken care of the hostess, but by that point, I was utterly spent and drained of all energy.

Had one more sip of wine, put on my coat and was on my way. Boy, what a party.