Sylvie was a writer, Harry painted abstract stuff that I found incomprehensible and the others included six lesbian musicians who played great jazz in...the local bars, a poet, Isadora, and a couple of local politicians who were members of different parties but managed to get over their differing views when between the sheets. We were hedonistic and met often to drink, eat and fuck. We didn’t hold with convention and enjoyed being promiscuous. I was lounging on a sofa with the sax player from the. Fuck-lube oozed from his pisshole and dribbled over his white knuckles. He paused to lick the sappy lube off his hand. Then he resumed jerking off like some dirty old man watching a fuck film. His balls kept twisting and rolling in their sac. His toes curled against the bedspread. He squirmed all over the bed as if the bedspread were hot skin he was pleasuring himself against. He shoved the panties down between his legs and rubbed them against his crotch. He lifted up, arching, bridging. More

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