My girls were shocked when I told them that Harry had been visiting Paul and had been watching pornographic movies with him in his house. But they were stunned and incredulous when I told them that the pornography they were watching was homemade, and that it was Paul having sex with other women in front of his wife, or Carol having sex with other men in front of her husband, and that the sex was taking place on their matrimonial bed.
Tall Mei, who had all along been sarcastic with me, talking to me as if I were naive and innocent, was frowning as I spoke. It was clear that it was dawning on her that she was the naive and innocent one, not me.
I described in detail what Harry saw and heard, and then asked them if they wanted to see for themselves, with their own eyes, a glimpse of the world we had stumbled upon. At first they said "no," but Chun shook her head and declared, "We must never be afraid to confront the truth. Put the tape on, Pat, we need to see this."
Harry had told Paul about my monthly Saturday gatherings and how we had recently taken up the activity of engaging in collective masturbation. He had told him about it because I wanted us to have his permission to screen one of his tapes. Paul eagerly assented and offered Harry what he thought was one of his best tapes: a tape that had him copulating intensely with Virkar's wife, Priya, a stocky Indian woman in her early thirties with young, firm breasts and thick pubic hair.
There was complete silence when the tape started. Here was Paul, large and handsome, sitting on a chair beside a neatly made bed, wearing a dark blue suit and a tie, his black shiny shoes glistening for the occasion. Then came Virkar's wife into the wide shot, holding the arm of her small husband, walking slowly, as if Virkar was about to give his Priya to Paul in marriage. She was wearing a traditional Indian dress, green and orange, with shiny jewelry dangling noisily on her right wrist. Her husband was completely naked, his back and chest a forest of wild hair. As he walked, his wife holding his arm, Virkar limped a little. He looked up meekly at the impeccably dressed Paul and furtively handed his wife's hand to him and then quickly retreated behind the camera. Paul stood up and smiled.
"Welcome Priya," he said, "thank you for visiting me."
Priya smiled and lowered her eyes.
Paul stared directly at Priya in the face and then bent down and kissed her in the cheeks. Priya lowered her head and turned her face away a little. She was blushing, but she was smiling.
Paul took a step back and stared at Priya's body from head to toe, then bent down and started kissing and licking her exposed navel.
Priya laughed.
"She's very ticklish," came from behind the camera. It was Virkar. His Indian accent was so heavy that it made some of my girls laugh.
I smiled, glad that the somber atmosphere had been dispelled a little.
"He's very funny," I said, referring to Virkar.
Paul then started undressing Priya, peeling off her Indian garments one piece at a time, all along kissing, licking, and smelling her. He was still fully dressed in his dark blue suit. Priya stood erect, closely following Paul with wide open eyes, not uttering a sound. When he took her thick, white bra off, her breasts bounced out heavily. They were clearly the breasts of a nursing mother, with wide dark brown circles and goose bumps surrounding her long nipples. Paul grabbed her naked breasts with his thick hands and licked the tip of her left nipple with a pointy tongue. She moaned, threw her head back, and stuck her tongue out.
"She likes it when you suck on her nipples," Virkar said. And the girls laughed again.
"Be gentle, they are very tender," Virkar added.
Paul looked at the camera and smiled. Then he turned to the breast and squeezed it gently. A drop of milk oozed out of the nipple, followed by a trickle, and then squirted as Paul continued to squeeze. Paul bent down and licked the milk off the nippled and squeezed again.
