Back in the 70's, in that decade of post-Pill and pre-HIV, I was a first year grad student at Berkeley when I met a new assistant prof in the history department. Jed was a few years older than I was, and he was a real product of the 60's: a bushy bearded and somewhat stocky teddybear kind of a guy who loved his dope and loved the sexual freedoms that emerged from those times. He resisted giving up either in the 70's, even when he moved from Cambridge to take a fairly respectable job at Cal.
In those days a student-teacher relationship wasn't quite as taboo as it pretends to be today. We weren't particularly obvious about it, though, since we weren't in the same department and didn't have a formal academic relationship with each other. Jed and I fell in lust, moved in together, then fell in love and got married, all within six months. I was entranced by him. He adored me. And he introduced me to the things he liked best. Good bookstores. Good jazz. And threesomes.
The bookstores and the jazz were mostly in Berkeley and San Francisco. The threesomes were mostly at home. He liked women -- liked to talk with them, liked to look at them, and liked to fuck them. He'd meet them, seduce them, and bring them home to share with me. At first I had twinges of jealousy, but Jed was persuasive and I relaxed about it all. Mostly, I think, he just liked to go to bed with new women, and he saw threesomes as a way to do that and still maintain a steady relationship with me.
The first one was Beth, a woman we met at a club in the City. She was a thirtysomething Financial District secretary by day and a Haight-Ashbury post-flower child at night. She and two girlfriends followed us home that first evening with the promise of a hottub and some grass, and in the wee morning hours her two friends drove home without her. The three of us fell asleep naked in our king-sized bed, all cozy mellow and amazingly comfortable with one another. I surfaced into partial consciousness sometime before dawn, only vaguely aware of Jed on top of rail-thin Beth with her small breasts. Her long legs were wrapped high around his waist, her palms swirling large circles on his back, their mouths locked together as they languidly undulated against each other.
I lay on my right side and watched them through sleepy half-closed eyes, feeling more curious than alarmed. Eventually I reached over a hand to stroke her curly brown hair, and sweet Beth responded simply by gently caressing my left breast with her left hand. She cupped my breast and pinched my erect nipple between her thumb and forefinger every time Jed stroked up inside her and she raised her hips to meet him. Finally, her breathing quickened and her body squirmed and then stiffened, her hand squeezed down and motionless on me, and Jed grunted and finished himself off with her. I could see his buttocks clenching with each spasm of his release. I just kept stroking Beth's hair until we all drifted back to sleep.
The next morning I was more wide-awake. This time Jed and I made love in the warm musky bed while Beth watched. Or rather, she started out just watching, but before long she was touching me, or Jed, or both of us at the same time. We switched places after awhile, with Beth winding up on top of Jed as I straddled his head, face to face with her, embracing and kissing. Then she stopped moving and whispered to me, "He's about to come. It's your turn" and then she rolled off and over to the edge of the bed. I spun around and inhaled Jed's slippery cock into my vagina and, with only a few seconds to spare, felt him spurting inside me as I mashed my hips around and around on him. The tendons in his neck stuck out and his mouth froze wide open as he climaxed, his eyes focused at first on mine, then over to latch onto Beth's face as he emptied himself into me.
Beth was a regular weekend visitor for two months, but she eventually grew tired of the freeway and bridge hassle and of leaving her apartment and her cat, and I suspect perhaps also a little bored with the confining sameness of it all, after the newness of the relationship wore off. One weekend she had some excuse why she couldn't come, and after that her visits were less and less frequent until, after another two months had gone by, she stopped completely.
By then Jed had found another playmate, and we just kept flowing from one relationship to another. Next was Marcy, the redhead Mills College senior with the wirerimmed glasses and green eyes and buxomy body and decided lack of gender preference. Her favorite thing was to dance her mouth on my pussy as her fingers diddled her own clit and Jed filled her with his cock from the rear. When she climaxed she would suction my clit between her pursed lips and hold me there, transmitting a long, drawn-out moan into my body that pulled me over the edge to join her.
Then there was Denise, the petite Chinese-American waitress who served us at a coffee shop on Telegraph Avenue and who we later served in our bed at home. She had pensively mysterious eyes, shiny black hair, and small, dark nipples that seemed perpetually hard. Her wispy black pubic hair framed brown labia that blossomed open to expose a marvelous pink interior and an equally hard clitoris. Denise was the most oral person I had ever known, both in giving and receiving, and could string together a half dozen stupendous orgasms over an evening, complete with writhing body and vocal shrieks that we were convinced would result in the Berkeley police knocking on our door. Jed always seemed to relish working his cock into her vagina as a finale. Afterwards he would tell me how snug it was, how he would bump up against the end of her vagina, alongside her cervix, and his erection would still not be completely inside her, and how tight she would grip him when she climaxed in one final thrashing frenzy.
Some relationships spanned months, and others were one-night stands. The shortest, though in some ways the longest, was Karen, our next-door neighbor for more than a year. She and her husband, Ray, had rented the adjacent house not long after Jed and I had bought ours. Karen and Ray had a noisy, combative relationship, arguing about money and Ray's lazy nature and, as Karen confided to me one afternoon over a pitcher of wine coolers on my deck, his frequent womanizing.
Eventually Karen decided that she'd had enough. She showed up at our door one Tuesday evening with shining eyes and a determined jaw. "I'm leaving him," she announced, "tonight, before he gets home. Asshole said he'd be home when the bars close. I packed my things and called my sister in Portland to tell her I'm coming." Jed and I just stood there and listened to her. "But there's one thing I've always wanted to do, living next to you two all this time and watching you and all those other women." Jed and I glanced at each other. Karen walked right up to him, put her hands on his chest, and kissed him.
I suppose it was one of those Goodbye Fucks for the three of us and a Goodbye Fuckoff for Ray, in absentia. It may have been her first time with a woman, but Karen acted as though she'd been doing threesomes all her life. She wanted to try it all. By the time she left our house shortly before midnight, she'd sucked off Jed, brought me to a screaming orgasm with her mouth and fingers, been on the receiving end of the very same thing from both Jed and me, had been fucked to two more orgasms by Jed in three different positions, and had persuaded Jed to finish them both off in her virgin ass. She lay on her stomach on the bed as he took her, her chin quivering nervously, gripping my hands in her two tight fists. Her last orgasm found her with a sweaty brow and wet palms and a profoundly surprised expression on her face, and it left her limp and weak-legged when we walked her to the door. "I'm gonna have 'ta find a cheap motel up the highway for tonight," she said, kissing us goodbye. "I'm in no condition to drive all the way through."
