Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

New York City-- I have to confess that a man never seems more masculine to me than when when he is fucking a woman. For that reason, I almost always prefer heterosexual porn to gay. It's exciting to see a straight guy showing his asshole to the entire world. He has to know, of course, that a million other guys are getting off looking at it. That's one of the reasons why, of all the ways of having sex, three-way sex with a man and a woman is near the top of my list.

I have had some wonderful and some not so wonderful, encounters of that kind. The first was a kind of "Ménage à Everybody"-- in other words, a gang bang, and the reader will have to decide if this one was wonderful.

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The girl was my high school sweetheart, Carla. We had met when we were both 15 and attending San Diego High near downtown San Diego. We studied privately with the same teacher. She played the piano like a goddess and I was crazy about her. But the incident at hand came toward the end of our relationship.

Carla, bright and gifted as she was, was also very self-destructive. She loved to fuck, but she used sex for both comfort and punishment, depending on her emotions. As young as we were, our relationship was, from the beginning, an open one. It never bothered me that she fucked other guys; I was fucking other guys myself. She knew about and accepted my bisexuality.

One summer weekend in the late 1940s, she and I, along with a clutch of friends, all male, took a trip down to Tiajuana for an evening of barhopping and general tackiness. The local cervezas there all taste as if they are mopped off the oor of the men's room, but they do the trick and, before long, we were all more tipsy than wise.

In one of the bars our party was joined by two attractive young sailors and they were denitely interested in Carla. It was no wonder. She was beautiful, ample of gure with fabulous big tits and an upfront ever-present sensuality that gave her a very potent allure.

Earlier in the day, Carla and I had had an altercation, one no worse than usual, but she was angry with me. Consequently, she irted outrageously with the sailors, and meanwhile, lost no opportunity to put me down. The sailors, while not knowing exactly what was going on, could sense opportunity.

Finally, after suffering an unusually vicious thrust from her, I turned to one of the sailors and said, "Don't mind her, I've been fucking her all day and she's mad at me because my dick fell off. Maybe you can help her out."

Before the sailor could answer, Dexter, one of our original party, irritated by the way she had been treating me, said, "Why don't we all fuck her?"

Carla turned to glare coldly at Dexter, leaned back in her chair, tossed her thick auburn hair, thrust her tits forward and said, "Yeah, why don't you?"

Well, she was asking for it and no one in the group, except for me, was disposed to let her off the hook. On the way to the car, regretting my part in these developments, I took her by the elbow and told her urgently that this shouldn't be allowed to happen. But it was too late. She had committed herself and a kind of perverse pride prevented her from backing out. Meanwhile, everyone else, especially the sailors, were enthusiastic and excited.

We all piled into the car, three in the front and four squeezed into the back. We drove around the town and at last parked in a dark alley.

We all got out except for Carla. She took off her panties and ung them out the window, signaling her readiness.

Alvin, a friend of hers who lived in her neighborhood (and with whom she was briey married a year or so later), pushed in ahead of everybody.

Dexter, who insisted that he intended to be next, turned to me and suggested that I get him ready. He dropped his pants and pushed me down on his dick, indifferent to the reaction of the sailors. So was I. Dexter's asshole was already known to me, my tongue having traveled there before. When I turned him around to glue my lips to it, the sailors watched intently and groped themselves.

Alvin was not long in completing his business. When he emerged, Dexter took his turn. I was gratied to nd that the sailors expected the same attentions that I'd given Dexter and as the game ran its course I sucked every dick and asshole present. I got no sperm, however, until it was my turn in the car.

Carla didn't really expect that I would take a turn. That would mean I was treating her like a whore just as everyone else had, but I assuaged her by being even more of a whore than she had been. Instead of fucking her, I plowed my face into her cunt and pilfered all the cum from it, obtaining what seemed to be, and probably was, a full cup of sperm.

Even though Carla and I have remained loving friends, that incident probably marked the end of the special connection that we had had up until that time.

She had several marriages, all of them failed until at last, she met a long-distance trucker who really cared for her. She moved to the northern midwest with him where putting her hopes of a musical career behind her, she raised a ock of children, and has been there ever since.

Author Profile:  Boyd McDonald

Born in 1925 in South Dakota, Boyd McDonald entered Harvard as a high-school dropout after serving in the army in World War II. Jobs with Time, IBM, and several Wall Street firms preceded Boyd's career as a chronicler of gay sex. He was the founder and editor of Straight to Hell (alternatively the Manhattan Review of Cocksucking), and later published a number of anthologies of true sex histories. Boyd died in September 1993, two months after completing his final book, Scum.