69 Things to Do With a Dead Princess Read Free

on his jeans, took his prick out. It was soft and squidgy but quickly hardened in my hand. Jill stroked Alan’s erect tool and it sprang up out of my palm. We giggled, then put the phallus away, I was worried someone outside our little circle might notice I’d taken it out. Jill suggested we go back to her place. We all agreed so Alan bought some carry-out beers and we split.
    Jill shared a flat with a girl called Karen. Jill’s flatmate was asleep. We were drunk, still drinking from the carry-out cans. Alan ordered Suzy to have sex with me on the carpet. As I undressed, I told Jill to take Alan’s pants down and give him a blow job. I lay naked on a rug in front of a gas fire, clasped Suzy against my chest. I ran my hands down Suzy’s back. Looked over to the sofa. Alan still had his shirt on but he was naked below the waist. Jill was running her tongue up and down his length. Alan was swigging from a can of lager and looking at me looking at him. I put my hands between Suzy’s legs, she was wet. I fingered her clit, then slid a digit into her cunt. It was warm, it felt familiar, like an old friend. Suzy had an orgasm, then wriggled off my hand and went down on me.
    I looked at Alan. He was excited. He removed his cock from Jill’s mouth. He walked over to the fireplace and pulled Suzy’s legs apart. She lifted her head and gasped with pleasure as he entered her. Then she lowered her head and licked my bits. Jill dropped her pants and hitched up her skirt. She walked over to me and sat on my face. I parted her beef curtains with my tongue. She was warm, moist and tasted of hyacinths. An orgasm exploded in the centre of my brain and rippled through my body. I was helpless, happy, falling. I was washing my face in Jill’s moisture. Jill stood up. Alan was still fucking Suzy. Jill pulled Alan from his mount, pushed him face down on the floor, rolled him over. Guided Alan’s erection between her moist lips, then started gyrating.
    Karen came through from the bedroom, drowsy with sleep. She’d pulled on a dressing gown but was naked underneath. I told her to sit on Alan’s face. She hesitated. I repeated the command, she did as I said. Suzy was still licking me and I had another orgasm as I watched Karen squat over Alan and then sink down. I was staring at the ceiling, drifting on a sea of words, the pattern in the carpet was reflected in the white paint glistening eight miles above my head. I was half-awake, the alcohol, the sex. I snoozed, woke up. Alan was leaving. I told him to wait until I was dressed. I wanted to go with him.
    We walked to the seafront. White foam, gulls whirling above our heads. Down on the beach we couldn’t see the cafés or the esplanade that ran from them to the western edge of the sea defences. The smell of salt. Seaweed that was salt-encrusted. The ocean vast, heaving, amorphous. The white surf, lights of ships bobbing on the waves. White spray, surf, the roar of water forever rising and falling. I pressed a palm against my forehead. I felt all at sea. No longer knew who I was, whether anything separated me from that great mass of work. The ocean, the desert, inside outside, all around. What was I doing? I had to get away from the water. My mind spinning. I was in danger of falling. I mumbled something to Alan. We turned around, climbed up onto the esplanade. Saw that cars were still cruising up and down the strip. The Karens and Garys behind the windscreens were simulating a simulation, out-mything a myth. I found them more seductive than their elusive model, the film American Graffiti .
    We trudged towards Union Street. Alan was talking about Erich Fromm again. He’d read through several Fromm books the previous night. They offended him. He’d sell them as soon as he could. Alan ridiculed the treatment of the futurist movement in The Anatomy of Human Destructiveness . Jibed that Fromm falls behind his own premises. If one is going to use historical methods, then the influence of