The Pat Wong Diaries

"It was hard for me to imagine you in Marianne's place," Harry said to me when he came back home that night. "I tried, but I couldn't imagine it. Or maybe I was distracted by all the strong images of sex.... It's incredible that all of this was happening under our nose all along, and we never suspected a thing."

Harry was philosophical about what he had just experienced. We were lying on the bed, side by side, naked. The TV was off and it was dark.

"Stew looked like he was enjoying it. He would come into the camera shot once in a while, masturbating, but mostly he gave his wife loving words of encouragement and chatted with Carol. When Marianne would curse or spit at him, his excitement would heighten and he would egg Paul on to screw her harder. He also referred a lot to Paul's penis and how it was huge and how he envied him and wished he had his cock. At one point he got up and extended a clenched fist to Paul, while Paul was violently thrusting his pelvis against Marianne's ass. Paul's face was red and contorted with sexual determination; he looked at Stew and extended his fist and frowned, then quickly bumped Stew's fist and turned his eyes away and down on Marianne's ass. Stew smiled and then turned to Carol and congratulated her and shook her hands, saying: 'You have done a great job finding a man with such a large dick.' Hearing Stew say that, Marianne flared up and cursed at him again. 'Don't touch her!' she yelled, 'don't touch that slut!'"

I listened to Harry's stories, the one he was telling me that night and the previous ones about Carol and the men that her husband brought to their bed to have them fornicate with her in front of him, and I shook my head in astonishment. So this is how these white Americans lived behind the curtains of those perfect glass houses.... Maybe that's why the grass was always cut clean and the bushes so exquisitely chiseled. Maybe it was all done to compensate for the sordid lives they were living behind closed doors....

"A marriage must be very strong to survive something like this," Harry continued, thinking out loud. "The men that Paul brings to his wife are not handsome, but they are very charged sexually. In the tape, Paul is the one in charge, telling them exactly what to do and how to do it, and they always followed his orders. You know, even though he doesn't get into the act when it's a video of a man screwing his wife, he still gets naked, walking around with a fully erect, foot long cock, giving directions. And you could see the men intimidated by that cock, stealing furtive glances at it, unable to avert their eyes."

"Did she seem to enjoy it?" I asked.

"You mean Carol? Yes, she enjoyed it. But I could tell that in these videos she was not completely herself, half-withdrawn, focusing on executing the individual sexual acts she was engaged in, one act at a time. I remember one scene with the short Indian man where she seemed to be more like her friendly self, hugging the man tightly and aggressively thrusting her large nose into his sweaty, hairy armpits. 'I love to smell curry,' she said, 'I love curry.' The Indian man cracked a rare smile, his white teeth flashing beneath his lips, and slapped her ass. He seemed to be delighted by Carol's declaration about the smell of the curry and decided that the best way to reward her was to sting her ass cheeks. Carol winced and flinched. From behind the camera, Paul could be heard groaning with displeasure. 'Please refrain from any violence,' Paul said. The Indian man stopped cold, took his cock out of Carol's pussy, crossed his hands behind his back and apologized to both Carol and Paul. Carol said that it was nothing and asked him to put his penis back in."

Harry fell silent for a whole minute, and then said, "You know, after watching a few hours of video of a man supervising fornication sessions between his wife and other men, and then some more hours of the wife attending sessions of her husband fornicating with other women, you start to wonder why all the fuss about sex. Here are these healthy, highly intelligent, highly educated adults, who are doing very well in life, polite and considerate people who do the right thing almost every time, who help others and take care of their families, who sacrifice so much and put up with endless chores and duties. And yet these same upright and moral individuals engage in making a full mockery of the sanctity of marriage and exert their imagination to come up with new ways to outrage that sacred bond."

I listened and nodded. Another three minutes of silence passed by. I always liked it when we lay down side by side, whispering softly to one another and thinking quietly.

Then he said: "You know, he has yet to talk about you. But today, he said that he has never met an Oriental woman he didn't think was beautiful. He said he relishes the sight of an Oriental woman, especially if she is past forty. And he also said that he has tasted every kind of vagina, except the Oriental kind. I told him that they were all the same, but he just shook his shoulders, as if to say, 'that's easy for you to say.' Isn't it amazing that he would show me all these tapes of his wife being screwed and him screwing all sorts of women, but he wouldn't think it appropriate to come right out and just say that he wanted to screw you? He said that he has been going to the Chinese supermarket lately just to get a chance to bathe his eyes in a sea of Oriental women. He said that he is even developing a taste for the stench of fish that Chinese supermarkets are famous for, now that he associates it with Oriental ladies."

I laughed and shook my head.

"He said that whenever he buys something and the cashier is Oriental," Harry went on, "he would make sure to caress the woman's fingers as he took his change, staring at the woman right in the eyes. 'I think they like it, but I'm not sure they fully understand what is going on,' he said. He then added that whenever he acted friendly with an Oriental woman, she would laugh and get giggly, not knowing what his show of affection really meant. 'Maybe they just think that I am doing what I'm doing for some inexplicable reason, and to most of them, I bet you, it just doesn't occur to them that I am really sexually attracted to them and that my heart aches to kiss them and smell them and penetrate them with my big healthy cock.' So, when he shook my hand before I left, he said that he needed my help with his 'Oriental challenge' and that he counted on me to 'figure a way out of this riddle.' Then he added, grabbing my arm: 'Like Orlando told Rosalind in the Forest of Arden, "How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.'"