“Let’s find Walter,” I said, pulling her clothes up around her as I stood up. We walked down the hall, drawn by the heaving of bedsprings. We entered the guest bedroom and stood there staring at the bed. Walter was on the bottom. Sonja was above him, her pussy enveloping his dick. Beatrice was behind Sonja humping her ass with a black strap-on dildo. As Sonja was penetrated from below and behind, shock waves of pleasure moved through her fleshy body. Walter smiled as he saw our faces and motioned Robinette over. When she reached the bed he pointed at Sonja. An obedient Robinette then leaned forward and began fondling Sonja’s breasts and kissing her neck.

At that moment I vowed, “This is not gonna be the motherfucking cab all over again!” After ripping open a packet of my favorite green-and-white Trojans and doffing my coat, I placed myself behind Beatrice’s active little ass and found her sweet spot.

The other four bodies had to adjust to my presence and, for an awkward moment, I felt like an intruder, like a DJ playing Bach at a down-home blues joint.

But then we found our collective rhythm. Beatrice adjusted her stroke to mine, Sonja arched her back higher, Walter thrust his pelvis differently; and Robinette, well, she didn’t do anything but close her eyes even tighter. For a time we were all in harmony.

After a while, it felt like I was standing outside the pile, just marveling at the beauty of these five undulating brown bodies. It was gorgeous in the way of some erotic African wood carving—the kind they keep under wraps at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. My mind took mental snapshots of this moment, moving around the bed like the camera in The Matrix. It was sex, but not sex as I’d experienced it in my previous thirty-plus years. It wasn’t just fucking—it was a full-fledged never-to-be-forgotten freaky-deekey-funkadelic jam. I was already nostalgic for it, and the night wasn’t even over.

It was like a sequence of edits in a film as we shifted from person to person, position to position. It seemed like I spent most of my time with Sonja, doing a duet that was deep and funky, while Walter somehow handled Beatrice and Robinette in a balancing act involving fingers, mouth, and penis.

Things took an even stranger turn when I became aware I was kissing a leg that was a touch hairier than it should have been. I looked up to see it belonged to Walter. “Go ahead,” urged Beatrice as she returned my lips to his leg. “Lick it,” she ordered. “Now kiss it and use your tongue.”

And so I did, as the three ladies murmured their approval. Walter sniggered and said, “Don’t be a trick, Dwayne.”

“Shut up,” Sonja said.

“And,” Walter responded, “what does he get for licking me, ladies?”

“Yeah, what do I get?” I chimed in.