CHAPTER FIVE: Wynn
My flight into Midwestern Regional Airport landed on time at 9:15 Friday night after a quick connection in Denver. The little airport was relatively deserted at that time of night, so it didn’t take long for me to find the Hertz counter and pick up the 2017 Nissan Maxima the psych association had rented for me for the weekend. I tossed my bag in the trunk, rolled down the windows, cranked up the music, and nodded at the lot attendant who was dozing in the little gate house as I passed. As I pulled out of the airport and onto Interstate 45 south to Madison, I felt like I was going back in time.
It had not been that long since I was a struggling professor of psychology at Midwestern University, one of the small regional universities dotted around the state. I had come to Midwestern just over four years ago when my old college roommate and best pal on the planet Holden called to say there was an opening in his department.
At first, I was hesitant to leave the sunny days and sandy beaches of California, where I was working as an assistant psyche professor at a small community college while working on a motivational book called The Psychology of You.
I know. The title was pretty fucking hokey, as was the whole concept behind the book, which was probably why I never got past writing the first chapter. Chapter One… uh…
Honestly, I was inspired by another buddy of mine named Lane Curtis—Dr. Lane Curtis, to be exact—who had written several books on psychology and now made a fortune doing seminars and on speaking tours. Lane was a former college linebacker who was much smarter than he looked. Still, I figured if Lane could do it, so could I. Granted, I’ve since written a mega-bestseller, but at the time I was in way over my head.
Then Holden called to tell me about the job at Midwestern and I realized that my affinity for surfing and fucking beach babes was only matched by my affinity for eating, and since I was barely making enough to keep my surfboard waxed and my belly full, the job at Midwestern could not have come at a better time.
Two weeks later, I flew in for a round of interviews, ended up fucking the woman in charge of the hiring committee, and the rest was history. I started a week later, and spent the next three years sleeping in Holden’s spare room and fucking my way through the student body and much of the faculty, often with Holden on the other end of the same woman.
I had not been in town three days when Holden and I resumed our little adventures in the land of group sex, which we had perfected back in college and grad school. We had been best buds since our freshman year at UCLA and had double-teamed our first girl that same year: a brunette undergrad named Beatrice Porter who had the biggest tits I’d ever seen in my life. I mean, honestly, the damn things were huge, with nipples as long as your thumb. Seriously. Like down to her waist huge. Like four handfuls huge. Like more than enough for two guys huge. It was amazing, what Beatrice could do with those giant tits, not to mention the rest of her body, which was proportionately small compared to her breasts.
Our most memorable time with Beatrice, at least for me, was the night she ordered us to take turns fucking her cleavage while the other fucked her pussy. Hell, me and Holden were up for anything, so we took turns. Holden straddled her belly and she held her tits together with his cock sliding between them. He fucked her cleavage while she leaned her head forward to lick his cock each time it came through.
At the same time, I had my cock buried as deep inside her as it would go, and I was jackhammering her like there was no tomorrow. She had her legs wrapped around my waist and kept nudging my ass with her heels as if she were riding a horse. We all three came at the same time and nearly broke her bed in the process.
Then we caught our breath, smoked a joint, drank tequila shots, and did it all over again, this time we me fucking her tits and Holden between her legs. I gotta tell you, that Beatrice was something else. Last I had heard she was living in Des Moines with an accountant named Irv, raising three kids, all of whom I’m sure had been breast fed.
I pushed thoughts of Beatrice Porter out of my head because I was getting a freakin’ boner just thinking about her. Hard not to think about those tits… simply amazing.
I turned off the highway and soon found myself driving along the main drag that snaked through the center of campus. It was a Friday night, but there wasn’t much going on at Midwestern. It was early fall and a lot of the kids had gone home for the fall break. I pointed my nose toward the window and took a deep breath. I always enjoyed Midwestern in the fall; the changing leaves… the cooler temperatures… the coeds with thick sweaters and no bras… fucking in front of a roaring fire…
Holden’s house was on the north side of campus, in a community of well-kept older homes where most faculty members lived. I arrived at his house around ten and parked on the street. The street was dark and quiet. Holden always said folks on his street went to bed at sundown. Apparently, he was right. The place was quiet as a tomb.
In the driveway sat Holden’s old Jeep Cherokee and a late model Hyundai with a student parking sticker on the back bumper. Jude’s car, I expected. I switched off my rental and stared at the house for a moment. There were lights still on, along with the porchlight. I was sure Holden and Jude were inside. I licked my lips, wondering if I was going to catch them in the act. And if so, might they be open to a third player for their little games?
Holden had suggested that Jude was open to the idea of a three-way, but you never knew how someone was going to react once things became real.
A lot of women cringed outwardly at the thought of having sex with multiple men at once, even if the thought was exciting on the inside.
I think most men would take part in a three-way if they weren’t horrified at the prospect of accidentally touching another guy’s cock with their own, or terrified of their wives finding out that they were unfaithful. I always found it funny that fear was what kept most men faithful. Fear of their wives and fear that they might immediately turn gay if their junk touched anther guy’s. Hell, my cock had crossed Holden’s numerous times during our sexcapades, but we were two of the most ardent heterosexuals around.
My psyche training told me that such resistance to group sex was more often than not borne from the values, morals, and opinions of society that were instilled in humans from birth, even though humans were not necessarily meant to be monogamous animals, at least not from a genetically-wired point of view.
The fact is only three to five percent of the roughly five-thousand species of mammals on planet earth ever form life-long, monogamous relationships, and that includes we humans, beavers, wolves, and some species of bats. That’s it. The other ninety-five percent of mammals have a hey-day fucking whatever they want to fuck without worrying about getting in the dog house when they come home. Male gorillas are not fearful of their wives. Lucky them.
Then there is what is called social monogamy, which is the term that refers to creatures that pair up to mate and raise their offspring, but still have flings no the side. They are not sexually monogamous, but socially so. It would be like your dad and mom were married and raising kids, but your dad was still banging his secretary on the side or your mom was banging your uncle Ralph. They were socially monogamous, but not sexually so.
Confusing? You bet, especially if you’re a guy like me and the call of the wild occasionally makes your balls tingle. Those who study the psychology of evolution (serious stuff compared to me studying the psychology of pussy) suggest that we men are more likely to fuck around than women, partially due to that little snag in our DNA that urges us to spread our seeds like dandelions spores in the wind.
Males are genetically predisposed to finding females who would make “good breeders” and planting their seeds to keep the species alive. That’s why men are often most-attracted to women with wide hips and big asses and big titties. A woman like that is, at least in our cave man minds, a good candidate to keep barefoot and pregnant. She is good breeding stock. It is our genetic duty to keep the species going, yet society tells us that’s not the acceptable thing to do.
I know, sounds like I’m making excuses for men to fuck around. Maybe a little, but the fact is that males are not genetically predisposed toward monogamy. Think about the bible; if Adam and his sons had been monogamous (and not attracted to their own sisters), and if all those other dudes like King David and Gideon had been monogamous, there would probably be a lot fewer humans on the planet right now. Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
Would I ever commit to a monogamous relationship? Me, the guy who has never been faithful to one woman ever? The guy who breaks out in hives at the thought of commitment? The guy who cannot fathom the prospect of being with—and having sex with—only one woman for the rest of my life?
I never say never, but at this point in my life I can’t imagine committing to just one woman. Even if I met a woman and fell deeply in love I think there would always be that little cave man sitting on my shoulder yelling at me every time a beautiful woman walked by.
“Fuck her! Fuck her, Wynn! Go on! You know you want to! FUCK HER!!!”
I smiled and tugged the key out of the ignition, then got my bag out of the trunk and walked up to Holden’s front door. I still had my house key, so I opened the door and quietly let myself inside. I set my bag in the foyer, closed the front door, and stood listening for a moment. I could hear soft music coming from the bedroom. Then I heard glass tinkling from the kitchen.
I tiptoed across the hardwood floor and peeped in through the kitchen door. There was my man Holden, standing at the kitchen island fiddling with the seal on a box of cheap wine. There were two empty glasses on the counter. He was totally naked. His long schlong dangled like a meaty sausage between his legs.
“Still drinking that convenience store box wine?” I asked, leaning against the door frame with my arms folded over my chest.
Holden looked up at me, startled for a moment, and smiled. “I am unless you brought something better.” He picked up a towel to wipe his hands and came toward me with his cock swinging. He put me in a bear hug and grunted.
“Okay, get that thing away from me,” I said playfully, holding up my hands and taking a step back. “God only knows where that thing has been tonight.”
“That things, as you call it, has been to paradise tonight,” Holden said, grabbing his cock and wiggling it at me. “See? It’s smiling.”
I smiled back as he moved back around the island. He pulled a third wine glass from the cupboard. I held up a finger. “Hang on, I brought you something from Cali.” I went back into the foyer to retrieve my bag and brought it into the kitchen. I set the bag on the counter, unzipped it, and brought out the bottle of wine I’d brought along wrapped in a t-shirt.
“Let’s drink this,” I said, handing him the bottle with the label up. “It’s a Cabernet Sauvignon from Oprah’s vineyard in Napa Valley. It beats the hell out of that swill you call wine.”
“That swill I call wine costs $10 a gallon,” Holden said as he found the cork screw in a drawer and proceeded to open the bottle of wine I had brought. He popped the cork and poured us each a glass. He held his glass up to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Okay, that sure smells better than the 7-11 brand.”
“Wait till you taste it,” I said, taking a sip from my glass. “Go on. Try it.” Holden took a cautious sip, then titled the glass high to drain it dry.
“Mmmm… okay… that’s pretty fucking good,” Holden said, smacking his lips. He smiled at me with his eyes. “So, how was your trip?”
“My trip was good,” I said, nodding. I glanced around the kitchen. It looked exactly as it had the last time I was here. “Place looks the same. A real shit hole.”
“It’s not a Malibu beach house but it’s home,” Holden said with a smile. He pulled a third glass down from the cupboard and picked up the bottle of wine. “Want to meet Jude?”
“She’s here?” I asked innocently, though I knew she was.
“She is,” Holden said proudly, like he was about to show me something magical. “She is in the tub.”
“Lead the way,” I said, sounding nonchalant. “I’d love to meet her.” The truth was, I couldn’t wait to meet her.
“One thing,” Holden said, hesitating before going through the door. “We haven’t really talked more about the three of us partying, so…”
I held up my wine glass and my free hand. “Hey, no worries. Honestly, I’ve been awake going on twenty-four hours. I’d rather get a good night’s sleep and talk about that tomorrow. If I tried to have sex now, I’d just embarrass myself. I’m sure you’ve created quite a legend for me to live up to”
Holden gave me a frown, though I saw relief on his face. “You sure?”
“Positive,” I said. “Why don’t you introduce us, then we’ll see where things go tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Holden said, hitching his head toward the door. “Come on. Let me introduce you to Jude.”