642 lines
39 KiB
Plaintext
642 lines
39 KiB
Plaintext
Archive-name: 3plus/eileen02.txt
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Archive-author: Pace
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Archive-title: Eileen - 2
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Standard Preface:
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This is correspondence with a man who used the pseudonym Pace. He
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wrote me from about 1979 till 1987, because I answered an ad in a
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swinger's magazine. I never met him. I have no idea what has
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happened to him since 1987. He was born in the late 1920's and felt
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he might have a heart condition. He may have died suddenly, because
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the correspondence unaccountably went blank in mid-stream. Or he
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could be alive. It bothers me. He was obsessed with performing sex
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with his wife before groups of men. She was very pretty, gullible,
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and very much his junior. The period of intense sex performance he
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wrote about extended from 1967 to 1972. But he covered everything
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leading up to it and beyond.
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The material was scanned from typewritten pages and dot matrix
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print-out. Then edited and edited. If Pace's writing "voice" seems
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to change suddenly, blame my editing. Everything was originally
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written "in one long string". Time and sequence are "bugs" of his,
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and loom large. But all else is chaos. This man neglects typos and
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grammar, can switch from the vulgar to the pedantic in the flick of
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an eye. His personality was very Schiz, his lifestyle was, too, and
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so was his writing. I give you Pace, as he was, heavily edited and
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revised. He is honest, and self-admittedly an opinionated, bigoted
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man. That's him, not me, please don't shoot the messenger.
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____________________________________________________________________
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--------------------------------------------------------------------
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How I'm Going to Show Off my Wife's Sexy Body
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Now it's clear I'm not a writer. But, I'll tell you this, this
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story is not one of those dumb juvenile porno whack-off stories, or
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those stupid, really asshole scripts you come across in all the dumb,
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really dumb porno movies. That stuff is so jaded, so boring. You
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know what gets me? The poor younger generation, the kids in their
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twenties and thirties. Those fucking ripped-off kids think that the
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stupid manufactured mass-production plastic standard General Motors
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Issue asshole stuff they see in porno crappola has anything to do
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with sex. Garter belts and stockings and mechanical dildoes. Oh,
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Real, Real Shittola!! That's nineteenth century whore crap, from
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England, yet!! Commercial crap to steal away your own exciting sex
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imagination, like TV, and Coke, and drive an Accura Legend. That's
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Accura Legend SEX. Garbage!! It's grubby money horse-shit sex.
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That fucking business of coming off on girl's backs and cunts, all
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that dumb shit. God, I'm glad I didn't grow up in a time of X-Rated
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horseshit. Marone a Mia!!! (That's instead of taking the Mother of
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God's name in vain).
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Anyway, I'm not a porno writer. I'm not a fantasy fuck dreamer.
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But, before I get on with the main story I want to talk about this
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product I dreamed up, all by my lonesome. I've prepared a video that
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illustrates what I talk about in these books. These videos are
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close-up views I took with the macro lens of a camcorder, focussing
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on snapshots, still photos. I've over-dubbed a voice script, to go
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with the pictures. I figured that these illustrative videos would
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make the books very, very real. They show still photographs of my
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very young wife, Eileen in her ordinary activities, in daily life.
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You can see her the way she worked around the house. See my wife,
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for real, as a wife and mother to our kids. Eileen was always a
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good, loving mother. But then the "fun" of the video are those
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"other" pictures. After you look at those precious family album
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pics, you can see, mixed in, my sweetie pie, stuffing her mother-hole
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with cock and huge veggies, chomping on dick. How about that?
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In these books I've also written about my sex adventures with other
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women and girls. You can see sex pictures of them, too, in the video
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collection. What's interesting about both of them was that I took
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the photos when I was teetering on the edge of 50, and both girls
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were under twenty. I took dirty photos of them, and was getting them
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to suck off my dick. Gorgeous little girls, like my wife was when I
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first married her, and me a fat ugly Italian.
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Eileen and Our Stag Party Routines
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Now for some realistic background on Eileen. My wife performed her
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first, and what I expected to be her only stag party at a packed
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veteran's club in 1966 when she was only 24. And the mother of two
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little kids. I looked old enough to be her fucking father, at 39.
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Fat and hairy and balding. Pretty little Eileen didn't even look old
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enough to have two kids. She looked like a fucking bobby-soxer, a
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high school girl, or a college freshman cheerleader. We were totally
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off the wall, as far as any stag audience was concerned.
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At the time Eileen was spreading her pussy so guys could get a look
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up her hole, that same pussy had given birth to two small kids, our 6
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year old boy and our pretty 4 1/2 year old daughter (not mine,
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actually, as I later found out). I wanted to have that scene happen
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once in my life, to see it for real, and I couldn't stop pinching
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myself, I'd actually pulled it off. Crazzy me!!
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Whore's did stag shows. Doped up, crazy "nymphos", hopped up,
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anything goes soon-to-die, who-gives-a-shit nymphos did stag shows.
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A married straight suburban housewife, with kids? Nobody, but no
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married woman ever, ever, ever did that, as far as these Clubs were
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concerned. Well, they didn't know everything, there were a few
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others. But nothing, virtually nothing compared to the regular stag
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show activity.
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This is a knowledgeable guess, based on my own personal
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solicitations of Clubs, practically all of which I turned down as
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being too raunchy or wrong for what Eileen and I wanted. Just some
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statistical estimates. Averaged out over all the year, there are
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maybe 150 marriages a week in Massachusetts. Stag bachelor parties
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back then, in the sixties, were held most often by industrial
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workers, a lot of second-generation Italians or even more working
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class Irish. The only others who would have bachelor parties were
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the scum of the colleges, the drunken fraternities, and they usually
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had a party using a more feeble-minded or compliant girl-friend of
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one of the members. So the occasional lowlifes in the general
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pupulation would have a stag party. That would be the smallest
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percent of all the couples, not the average middle class
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church-goesrs, because the general run of the populations are too
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straight, or it doesn't go with their lifestyle in this religious
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uptight conservative New England. But concentrating on Massachusetts
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alone I'd guess, even back then, for bachelor parties, or parties
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held for salesmen, or visiting firemen, or fraternities, of which
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there was a shitload at the Boston colleges, in any week it would
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have only been a few, like two or maybe even three or four parties
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like that going on in any week. I admit, looked at cumulatively, it
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may look like a lot, as much as a hundred to two hundred bachelor and
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stag parties in any year. These would be anything from a hired stud
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and some hooker or hookers fucking for an audience, to sometimes,
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maybe once a year somewhere in the State, the real adventurers would
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have a real sex circus, animals and all, or combination stag shows
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and drunken gang fucks. But if you think about this happening among
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about five million people, that's not a lot.
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In the entire New England States, all of the States, I'd heard from
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the Clubs I worked with, there were maybe two or three other real
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amateurs like us, at any one time, taking a chance. Because when I
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would arrange something, that would always be a chance for the guy
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who was making the arrangements to bring up the question of whether
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my wife and I would be willing to do this or that sex act that they'd
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heard about some other amateur couple doing. Each amateur had a very
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different style, that was for sure. We didn't work by formula. Often
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these other couples were just like us, usually doing it for kicks.
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But they only tried it maybe once or twice, for the thrill of making
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money fucking and having a good time in a sex exhibition. Sort of at
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random.
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The amateur that made a practice of it, in Massachusetts, was
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asking for it; if they did it more than one or two times, sooner or
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later there were always little local yokel cops at these shindigs,
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and they'd rat to their Statie counterparts, just cop-to-cop
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courtesy. A careless couple would be set up for entrapment. I went
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to elaborate measures to avoid that, just in the way I worked it.
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Any amateur who came to the attention of the cops was sucked into
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their sick game. So that amateur would be off the scene pretty
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quickly. Eileen and I fucked for audiences all over New England, New
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York City and New York State. We spread ourselves thin, if you don't
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mind the joke.
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But, in general, nobody in staid, uptight, sexually repressed New
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England had ever heard of what we were doing, that is, in the
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sixties. In California, today, fuck it, it's like buying a hot-dog
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at the beach. No big deal. It's an amateur hobby or second income.
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But these are weird times.
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But what we were doing? Where did you ever hear of an audience
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being treated to a family-style (for real) slide show and home
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movies, beforehand? Just to give the affair that "homey" and "cozy"
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flavor. You get the impact?? That was a real kinky husband, for
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sure! My audiences dropped their socks with astonishment that it was
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actually taking place. They thought, always, that it was some kind
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of joke, or hype, or "kicky" con that I was putting over on them.
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Well, some six years, and 45 other stag shows, by 1972, my Eileen was
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then a jaded a 30-year old mother of three kids. At that point my
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disgusted wife pulled out of doing stags forever. Four years later
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she would totally split from me. We'd had a third kid, less than a
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year after the first three stag shows, in 1967. A short break. In
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case you've got a dirty mind; no, no, our third baby was not
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conceived out of the pool of scum pumped off into my wife's bare
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pussy hole at a stag party. As a matter of fact, Eileen was three
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months pregnant, and showing a little preggie belly at her third stag
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party.
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That fun "party" the little pregnant mother had was her third stag
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or it could have been her fourth party. I've got a list, but it's
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too much bother to look it up, right now. Anyway, this bunch of stag
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parties, about one a month, was like a crazy opportunity, they all
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sort of all fell into my lap at once. I'd been maneuvering for a
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year, and everything came together at once. I wasn't even assured by
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Eileen that she'd be willing to do any more than just the first one,
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if even that, but went ahead with the arrangements, anyhow. Why not?
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Arranging for it was pretty exciting, in itself. I could always pull
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out. The young mother had "entertained" at that many parties in just
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three or four months. Three or four of them.
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And this third or fourth party was a real scum bag of a dirty gang
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fuck. Not like the first two or three parties. Those first two
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stags were a model of fun, they were really wild, better than we
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could have ever imagined. There were high jinks, the young mother
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playing tease, everybody coddling her, enjoying her sweetness. Not
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like this sordid affair in a bowling alley in Connecticut. In
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Willmantic we had a crowd of real low life. I'd gotten the lead from
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other activity I'd indulged in, trying to line up parties. Anyway,
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at this affair there was Eileen spreading her pussy right on the
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bowling alley, bowling naked, frigging her pussy with "duck pins",
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blowing off line-ups in the men's room. All the things guys had
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ever wanted to do to all the gals they ever saw in a bowling alley
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were acted out. On my wife. No family photos here. Just a gal
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walking into a bowling alley with a bunch of guys waiting, in nothing
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but a coat and and her skin, and whammo! flash open the coat, showing
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nothing on but black high heels and pussy and tits out for action.
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I've got a great series of nude photos I took of Eileen earlier
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that same night. I did these "rehearsals" in our living room, before
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we did our stags. It happened the first time we did a stag, and it
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became a really important part of the ritual. In these photos, which
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are featured in the video, there is Eileen showing those tits and
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pussy, just as she was ready to go for it that night. The only
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photos I got a chance to take that night were nudes. These were
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taken when we almost leaped for our "sex room" within moments after
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our kids were picked up by Eileen's Mumsy for an overnight. We
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didn't waste time time fucking around with cameras, I'll tell you
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that, for sure. I had to get my rocks off into her, and Eileen had
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to fuck her bloody head off, before we left. It just had to happen.
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Period. Otherwise the tension on the long ride from New Hampshire
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down to Willimantic would have burst over on the road. These
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"rehearsals" were some of the most excited sex we ever had,
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anticipating the main event, talking about what would happen at the
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stag party, while we were fucking, there in our "sex room", and going
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out of our heads over it, coming like crazy.
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Ah, but then there's the "aftermath". You know what I mean? You
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know that "let-down" guys get after fucking? The lethargy. The
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feeling of "what the fuck did we ever so that for?" Eileen and I
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would moan and groan, and look at each other, all worn out from
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fucking, and laugh. Oh, why the hell were we doing this? Eileen
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would go limp, looking at me. Laughing at the both of us, calling us
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both nuts. We shouldn't go through with this. We'd already gotten
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our rocks off over the idea. Nothing could be more exciting than
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that. How the hell was Eileen going to go through with this now?
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What the hell were we doing, going to a stag? All the little woman
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felt like doing, was going into her beddy-bye and snuggling up to the
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pillow.
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And frankly, I didn't feel too peachy-keen on the whole idea,
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either, post-coitus. After fucking my girl, here I was in a normal,
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rational state of mind. In the clear light. Ugh! This was
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screwball! I looked at it the same way as the audience looked at me.
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What kind of crazy was I to want a crowd of horny assholes sticking
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their dicks into my wife, the good and kind mother of my kids?
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Ooo-oo-oh, what a weirdo! I must be some sick puppy to have started
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this.
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We sort of made ourselves do it. We had no more desire to go
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through with this than we had to wade through a tub of shit. But we
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had to. We would laugh and groan, saying we'd fucked away our
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evening, or our party. And we were getting paid. The idea of all
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those guys waiting. All the build up. None of these Clubs ever
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believed we'd ever really go through with it. Couldn't blame them
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for thinking I was just some kind of fruitcake, getting my rocks off
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over an idea, a fantasy that I could never pull off. Frankly, it was
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just as well we fucked beforehand. Who the hell could have taken the
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tension, on the drive down? You know, that was like a five hour
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drive. But the same thing used to happen those times, later on, when
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we stayed nearby, in a motel. The frantic fucking, beforehand.
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Ah, but then, there was the stag show itself. Then all the
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pre-fucking paid off. Because we needed patience, and a clear head.
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Once you've fucked, you're not that keen to fuck again, so the
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fucking set me up to get into it unexcited, mostly, cold-blooded, and
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protected. Both Eileen and I both walked out of shows I'd arranged
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that were suspicious, even after all of my screening. Never started
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them. Sometimes there was just this feeling that we could be raided,
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or the guys were acting too fidgety, as if they were not letting us
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be in charge, but were leading us on, so they could do something I
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expressly said we wouldn't do. You know. Like a shiftiness in the
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eyes, an unwillingness to make eye contact, I just had the sense of
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betrayal in the air. It was like a sixth sense, a radar. I'd heard
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the horror stories and took them all seriously, every one of them.
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I'd say that one out of every four or five planned stags were like
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that. If we'd been all juiced up, too much, we probably would have
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walked into some really nasty situations. I don't want you to get
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this wrong. We were excited. But not THAT excited, if you get what
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I mean.
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Sort of something that grew out of this pre-stag "blowing off the
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steam", or the cum, if you'll pardon the joke, happened more or less
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the way it was destined to. We ended up giving these little
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"warm-ups", after the first year, or maybe less, with my "contact",
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the guy who'd arranged it with me, or the MC. Believe it or not, at
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some of the stag shows we actually had an MC introducing us. We'd
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rehearse the thing with the guy, try to "lay it out". Those were
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really the best of the shows, when a guy was making funny remarks
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into a mike while your wife was fucking on stage. Hilarious, sexy,
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funny, erotic, exciting, all of that. Some of these guys were great
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clowns, keeping the atmosphere light, while my wife fucked, either
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me, or groups of guys, or male stud stag performers at "the party".
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I mean Eileen would be in the middle of blowing off some guy's dick,
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and she'd catch the funny line and start laughing, with the dick in
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her hand, I mean she'd stop sucking cock, and crack up. The guys who
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were waiting to be sucked off, the line-up, laughing their heads off.
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HONEST!!!
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These guys, the MCs, usually wanted to get their rocks off first, a
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sort of privilege. WE knew it, but the MC and Eileen and I played a
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little tease and seduction game, exciting, really. It always ended
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up with the guy and me fucking my wife Eileen's cunt and mouth
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together in a threesome. I'll tell you, sometimes, just because it
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was ahead of the main event, in the empty hall, or on an empty stage,
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without anyone there yet, it could bring on some of the most intense
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orgasms, for all of us. Our most solicitous and best MCs, on stage,
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were guys who fucked Eileen's face or pussy ahead of the crowds.
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On the later stags it would sometimes be the officers of the
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particular Club, union or managers and coaches and captains of the
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team, a small group, who would take us to dinner, amazed at how
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"normal" we were, as a couple. Three to four to five or six guys
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fucking Eileen, before "The Main Bang". It was the time pressure, to
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fuck Eileen before the herd came in, that pumped it all up. It was
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frantic, hectic, crazy, everybody laughing, because they all felt
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they had to fuck my wife and get their rocks off into her pussy hole
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or her mouth before the "gang came", a real pun. A real competitive,
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exciting atmosphere. It was like they were "cuckolding" their
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buddies or team-mates, getting one up on them, like fucking a lady in
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her own house, in the marital bed, within minutes of the time the
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husband was due home for supper. Same kind and brand of excitement.
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The erections in these "warm-ups" were hard as rocks, not a limp dick
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in a car-load.
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A Description of Eileen
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At this point I realize that Eileen is sort of faceless. I'll
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remedy that. If you're not part of that very intimate, special, and
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favored crowd I've been screwy enough to send a copy of the video to,
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I'll describe my pretty wife Eileen. At least the way she looked
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back then. Eileen had a very pretty oval-shaped Irish-British face.
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Her looks were common in this country. My little wife was a "type",
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one of the prototypes of the All-American girl. Eileen resembled
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"Ivy League" women you usually associate with class, with
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upper-class. A lot of pretty clothing models look like Eileen in the
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tonier catalogue order books that the smarter and richer and frugal
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Yankee crowd shops from, catalogues for classic clothing, like "The
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Talbots".
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There are a lot of model "types". At the extremes are those with
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these refined oval faces. You've seen them, they look like royalty.
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At the other end are these large-jawed, wide-apart cat-eyed small
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snub-nosed creatures, the Shirley Temple types. Eileen's refined
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oval face was crowned with a wavy halo of short, honey-colored hair.
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Her features are evenly spaced, none too large for the others, except
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that her eyes are really big lamps. Eileen's full brow was graced
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with arching thick eyebrows, like Elizabeth Taylor's, and below these
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were large, sparkling china-blue eyes. Imagine a honey-colored hair
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version of Elizabeth Taylor. Eileen's jaw, unlike Elizabeth's, which
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is slightly weak, is normally shaped, compared to another
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English-Irish type, the lantern-jawed Irish or English. Her skin was
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the clearest of clear, almost pearl-like and translucent, and
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occasionally her nose and upper cheeks got freckled in the sun. She
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had a straight strong nose, and shapely, soft, very definite pink,
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beautiful lips framing a rather medium sized mouth, and regular,
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evenly spaced, beautiful white teeth. She also had a load of dental
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work done on that mouth to make it perfect.
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I mention the teeth because the less wealthy Irish and English
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girls of Eileen's age usually had poor teeth due to poor diets.
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Eileen had a brogue, charming, and that in spite of the fact she'd
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been raised in this country from the time she was 3 1/2 years old.
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I'd expect that my most interested readers would have been born
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during the pre-War, 1925 to 1940 period. They may remember the
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English actress Deborah Kerr. Eileen looked like a mix between
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Taylor and Kerr, somewhat similar to Kerr, with a stronger jaw, a
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very classy dame.
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The companion video has been filmed in accordance with a script
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which has also been included in the book collection, in case
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particular readers don't have access to the video. The script gives
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the voice narration which is dubbed in on the video to accompany the
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visual image. The tabular entry preceding the audio dubbed material
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gives the duration of the narration, and the point in time at which
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the narration starts. The script was used as the guiding document
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for making the video.
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I know I sound very technical, and my writing also sounds sort of
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technical, too, or "intellectual". Frankly, I've never been to
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college, but I grew up in New York, and my Mamma made me into a
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bookworm. I've read everything, so I'm self-taught. I mostly sell.
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I sell real estate, I sell anything. But I always haunted writer's
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groups. I took courses on writing, on film writing, too. So I've
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written tons of material over my life. The "intellect' is only skin
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deep. Underneath it I'm still pretty much of an animal. As you'll
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see.
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This is the first place in the books where I'll slice a cut, or an
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extract from the video script into the book. Appropriately the
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opening part of the script is titled Book 1, Chapter 1, with
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identical titles to book and chapter. The video more or less travels
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along in parallel with Books. In the opening section of the video I
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show Eileen's face for the first time, just the way I've described
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her. These are the script extracts from B01C01 video clips 01 and
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02.
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# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
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MIN SEC MIN SEC
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01 Desk portrait of Eileen 95 0 37 0 0
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Script:
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This pearl-necklaced, bare-shouldered portrait of Eileen, my very
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young and classy looking Irish-born wife, was taken in '63 when she
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was only 21 years old and the mother of our two small children, aged
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1 and 3. I was a 36 year old hustler, a self-educated, ugly, bald
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and fat Italian, and very vain about my wife's heritage, the classy
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English side which gave her the snooty look you see. I proudly kept
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a silver-framed version of this photo at work, which co-workers
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dubbed "the Princess Portrait". I adored Eileen and kept a wallet
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version for showing off, too.
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# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
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MIN SEC MIN SEC
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02 Color head portrait 104 0 41 0 37
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Script:
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Not only was a miniature of the desk portrait in my wallet, there was
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a full figure photo shot taken in the same photo shoot as the
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bare-shouldered portrait, on a Sunday dawn, in July, at 5:30 A.M., in
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our deserted Town high-school football field. Eileen was wearing
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pearls, dress patent leather high heels, and was stark naked,
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grinning from ear to ear, her nipples rosy, red, erect, with a
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shocking thick bush of pubic hair, posing. I often flashed these
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photos as a teaser for prospective stag party contacts, or for kicks,
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on travel, in darkened bars, when other guys showed wallet photos.
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Our Public Exhibitionism
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I'll make a comment on that script piece. That football field was
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the reason Eileen and I moved into the small New Hampshire town where
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we settled and raised our kids. It was way down in this hollow,
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below the line of sight from the Town high school and elementary
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school complex.
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Eileen indulged me, early in our marriage, by accompanying me as I
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cruised around searching for deserted places where I could play at
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the risky sport of having public sex. Outdoors I usually pulled
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quick photo sessions of my nude babe, and then had her get down on
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her knees to suck me off, naked, or fucked her standing, while she
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bent over to get pumped. Rarely on her back on the ground. But
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mostly with her nude, and me dressed. Usually at dawn, in picnic
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grounds, or other kinky locations.
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It was during on one of my excited hunts over the landscape of
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Massachusetts and New Hampshire, heatedly looking for places to
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publicly fuck my amused, young, gullible and accommodating bride,
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that we went through this sleepy small New Hampshire town. I took a
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dog-leg off the main road because I'd spotted a school sign. That's
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how I'd stumbled onto this great, half-hidden, half public outdoor
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location.
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For a long time, while we lived in the Town, I played this risky
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game, teetering on the edge of being discovered. Fucking Eileen by
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the football field meant taking the tantalizing chance of being
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discovered, in our own Town, at the same time minimizing the risks of
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discovery, because of the time of day, and depression of the field
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below the line of sight. We had enough close calls to keep it
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incredibly exciting.
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There's no thrill like a set of headlights coming down the road, at
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1 or 2 A.M., on a weekday school day morning, on a totally moonlit,
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bright warm Spring night to give your balls an extra thrill, when
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some teen-age parker or make-out artist is seeking to drill his date
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for excitement. This happened.
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The moon is full, the sky clear, and it is brilliantly lit. Eileen
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and I are both naked. Instead of being close to the slope which led
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up from the hollow to the road which led into the area from Main
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Street, we are in the open, the furthest part of the field away from
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the slope, the most likely spot to be looked down on and seen. But
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it was also the easiest position from which to run to cover, you
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could dash it, with your dick dangling, naked, dragging your
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clothing, within five seconds, the dashing distance to the area
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behind the rickety iron stands, and then the covering darkness of the
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Norway pines.
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My sweet naked wife is bent over, hands on her thighs, I am fucking
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her little pussy. She must have been all of 20 or 21. I had my dick
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in my own wife's pussy, while she's bent over naked.at the edge of
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the field. The car is approaching the field, slowly. There I am, in
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the middle of an ejaculation, as my sweetie is grunting, Uh-Uh-Uh,
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right in time with my pumps, bare-ass, biting her lip, trying not to
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shout as she has orgasm after orgasm. She is grunting, muttering
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that they were going to see us, they were going to see us. Because
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the headlights are shining way above us, into the trees line.
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Oh, shit, I was coming. That's an ejaculation caused by headlamps.
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My prick squirted off a gusher into Eileen's vagina. We both grabbed
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clothing, crazy, and scrambled for the woods, suppressing giggles at
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the surprise and the situation. Eileen left a baby blue sock lying
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in the field.
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And while we dressed, in a hurry, about to crawl back home, the
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fucking intruder became just that. Two sets of minds with two great
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thoughts. A huge, tall humongous guy with a teeny little girl, it
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looked like a high schooler with an elementary school girl, headed
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for the same field. Right square in the middle of the fucking field,
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yeah, that's what I said, the fucking field, this kid, this guy, gets
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down on the moist grass, on his back, both kids fully clothed. No
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nakedness for these two youngsters. The little girl drops her
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panties and climbs on to the prick of what I would bet was one of the
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school's football players (I would bet it).
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We were the ones who were supposed to be the fucking performers on
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this field! But there they were. Fully dressed. I kidded Eileen
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that we should join them, in a foursome, my mouth literally in her
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ear. She winced because it tickled her, the idea, and had to
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suppress a giggle. What could they do? I told her. Caught
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red-handed, no red-pricked. No, she wasn't in to that, shaking her
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head vigorously.
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It was too dark under the trees, I could barely see Eileen's face.
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The teen agers were maybe 200 feet away. You couldn't see any
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details. This was not the standard porno suck and fuck. We watched,
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but were pressed to get the hell out of there. You know, we got this
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"after-fuck" letdown, and wanted to be home in bed, just then.
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Eileen was giddy because she'd lost her sock, as we walked behind the
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Church on the Common to our house, grinning. The Town totally
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asleep. A farm Town. I didn't know why Eileen found it so funny.
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I didn't get back to the field for several days, was too busy, and
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Eileen's sock was gone. What the hell did anyone want with one lost
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sock? Probably a dog got it and used it as a rag toy. Out of
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curiosity I walked around where the two kids had been fucking. Deep
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in the newly growing Spring grass, there it was, the condom,
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somewhere about the same area. That started me searching, from then
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on.
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That was a busy place, "our" field. I wonder how many others had
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skittered off and watched Eileen and me fuck. The grass was pretty
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worn down on the field, during the summer. The upper field was used
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for baseball, but the football field always had kids playing on it.
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There were condoms under the stands. Interesting. Fucking on the
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slats and pulling it off? There were, on average, two or three used
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condoms a month. A lot of them close to the steep slope, up the
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hill, at the base, and others close to the tree line. Pretty few "in
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the open" fuckers. How about that?
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The apartment we rented in an old New England farm house converted
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into three rental apartments, was, literally, within walking distance
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from the field, just by dumb luck. The house was 600 feet from the
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Town Common, and the entire school complex, and the field itself, was
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only 1300 feet from our front door. This meant that, any time of the
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night we could skulk over to the field, totally clear of street
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lights, just crossing the street at like 3 or 4 in the morning, and
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taking one short block's walk to the "way" that led to the field. It
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was our own private public exhibitionistic stage, weather and time
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permitting.
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It was one of the features of the Town, this location for fucking
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Eileen at dawn, which attracted me to the Town when we had to move
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and look for a place, just before Eileen delivered her second kid.
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Anyway, after we moved to Town we used this location many times,
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unobserved, as one of various places in the Town where I pursued this
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screwy business of fucking my wife in public. As we became settled
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residents I also used our Church sanctuary, and various meeting
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rooms, because I had keys to the building, and even eventually got a
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key to our Town Hall, because I'd gotten involved in Town politics.
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Anyway, on the occasion when I shot these wallet photos the Town was
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fast asleep, and our only audience was an occasional stray dog who
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watched this strange performance. The situation was always exciting
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for me, and on this occasion, too, Eileen ended up giving me a blow
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job, pearls and all, till I squirted my sperm into her throat, which
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she swallowed. I was too excited fucking Eileen's mouth to fuck
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around with cameras, just then. After Eileen swallowed my cum for me
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in one of my public exhibitionistic adventures I would always be so
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happy, really manic, actually, that my elated state would amuse
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Eileen. I'd be giggling and joking. Like I would be after she gave
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stags for my pleasure, later on. I would fawn over Eileen. After we
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returned to the house I'd feed her breakfast. I'd spend an hour in
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our bed frigging her, fucking her, bringing her off to one orgasm
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after another. Those days she'd be treated like a princess.
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Eileen's Body
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To flesh out my description of Eileen; the girl was short, barely
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five-feet tall, had slight down-sloping shoulders, they were very
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slim. On top Eileen was a petite girl. Her mouth-sized little
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titties were far apart on the outer edges of her upper chest, close
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to her arm-pits. She could've worn deep V-neck blouses with no titty
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cleavage showing. Eileen's breasts were crowned with nipples that
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erected into very prominent suckable teats when she was sexually
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stimulated. At least half-inch long pointy teats.
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My Irish Eileen had a rather longish torso, with broad hips, a big
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ass, and shapely dancer's legs, accentuated by strong thighs. My
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tiny wife's broad hips had prominent love handles which begged to be
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grabbed so her pussy could be pressed against an erection, hips that
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were very sexy on such a little girl, and gave her a slight
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pear-shaped body. The pretty young mother was blessed with an ass
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that jutted out, a big round Irish ass, while up front she flashed a
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bushy Irish pussy that stimulated desires in some guys to bury their
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faces in her hairy crack and eat her cunt. It wasn't my dish,
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because as far as I was concerned my wife had a nasty-tasting snatch.
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Eileen was never taught, and never consistently practiced any sort of
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basic feminine hygiene.
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Here's the script from the next video clip which illustrates that
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description I just gave of Eileen:
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# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
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MIN SEC MIN SEC
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03 Eileen in stag rehearsal 87 0 34 1 19
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Script:
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As my first book opens I describe Eileen's face. You've seen her
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beauty now. In the book I lovingly describe Eileen's naked body, and
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here she is, laughing and teasing, flashing open her coat on her
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pussy and titties the way she did in one of her first gang fucks in
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1966 at a bowling alley in Willimantic Conn. This Polaroid was shot
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during a fuck and suck photo session I held in our living room as a
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sort of cunt and cock "warm up" before the gang fuck activities of
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that night, when Eileen diddled her hot red pussy in front of a
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drooling audience.
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Today's Boring Sex Reality and Sex Fantasy
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I want to make a comment on the difference between a true story and
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the loosy-goosy fantasy stuff that seems to dominate all porno media,
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whether it's video or text. I find that stuff, a lot of it, anyway,
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so dreamy, vague, or repetitious, with all the same dirty words, that
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it's boring. I think what I'm laying out for you may be a lot
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different, unlike the swinger stories of today. Today nothing is
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shocking. Or really gut-wrenching, stimulating, either. Nothing is
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exciting. Everybody has seen everything, and porno is the most
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boring thing in the world. Boring, boring, bo-o-o-o-ring. But what
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we did, won't happen again, with the freedom, and all the
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possibilities we were able to explore. I can't see, in post-AIDS,
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nudity-shocked America that a straight couple could exploit the
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innocence of their crowds, and their own adventurous spirit to do the
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unimaginable, the surprising, the utterly unthinkable. Everything is
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thinkable, there are no surprises, no stimulations that don't have to
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be utterly sick to cause some kind of reaction, even if it's
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revulsion.
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Because of AIDS-fear, how can a truly happy, ordinary couple fuck
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groups of ordinary guys. Without formula. Formula garters, formula
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high heels, formula shaved pussy, formula whore outfit. Formula cum
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shoot off. We played original sex games with guys who would never
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have fooled around, in their whole lives, unless we had tripped our
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funny sexy way into their lives. Guys who'd never even looked into
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their wives' pussies spread, seen any snatch wide open, in the light
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of day. I'll tell you something, jaws dropped, literally, jaws
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dropped open when I exposed my wife's spread cunt to some of these
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guys. You know what a kick that was for me? There I was, in front
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of an audience, wheedling and seducing my apparently resistive and
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embarrassed wife into giving the guys a look, getting her to bend
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over and spread it wide. Just to see the looks on their faces?
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These days I've sat at a nude bar and watched some cocaine-doped up
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angel spreading her 19 year old pink pussy right over me, and gone on
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drinking with a bar buddy, ignoring a display which would have
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brought down the house when Eileen and I were doing those things.
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Times really have changed, for the much, much worse.
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Today ordinary guys, regular guys are scared of their shadows,
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would never, in their right minds, hold a free-for-all gang fuck,
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like we did, without fear. They're scared their dicks will fall off.
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Today what ordinary guy would even dream of dipping a bare cock into
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a gal's holes, without the perhaps realistic fear of dying a terrible
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death? AIDS-fear chills a dick, for real. What kind of gang sex is
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that, with condoms? Beat your meat!!! You meet a better class of
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people. AIDS has turned us all into a nation of meat-beaters,
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masturbation is definitely "in".
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--------------------------------------------------------------------
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Epilogue
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If these reworks of Pace's "Books", as he calls them, interest you,
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I will continue to post them here. From start to finish each page
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costs me about an hour and a half out of a busy life. Reactions are
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motivating. Especially appreciative reactions. I am not a
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masochist and do not thrive on negative or nasty carping.
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I believe that what he told me actually did happen. Would also
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appreciate feedback in the form of remarks or information from other
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people about other couples who indulged in similar activities. Or
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first person descriptions by males who may have attended either
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Pace's performances, or other such performances by amateurs,
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especially from the New York, Chicago, Dallas, New Orleans, LA or Bay
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Area.
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Such couples as Pace and his wife Eileen intrigue me. If anyone
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has has indulged in similar activity, correspondence or email of any
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quality would be appreciated.
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--
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