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Sexhibition

AN INTERLUDE IN CAIRO | WAR BREAKS OUT | TERROR IN ALEXANDRIA | THE MILE HIGH CLUB | MIDDLE EASTERN ETIQUETTE | MAFIA FLIGHTS | THE TET OFFENSIVE | CAM RAHN BAY | RUGBY AND ROMANCE | ICELANDIC INCIDENT |


 

We were young, inquisitive, and thousands of miles away from home. All three of us grew up relatively sheltered and a sex act piqued our interest. What could be shoddier than the cockfight we had just seen? We followed the men into a small side room.

The five of us again sat on elevated benches about twenty feet from a central arena. Connie, Robin, and I looked prim and proper in our skirts and white blouses; the men looked like they were taking us on a date.

There were roughly thirty onlookers, but from the moment we arrived we were hit by the silence. Everyone stared at us, and no one made a sound.

A handsome man stepped onto the arena, wrapped in a terry-cloth robe. He sat on a folding chair, his side to the audience. In the center was a mattress-covered table.

In the background, soft music played. Chances Are by Johnnie Mathis came from a portable record player behind the stage. A stunning young woman entered wearing high heels, a white blouse, and a red skirt. She looked like a teacher.

Stopping in front of the young man, she slowly undid the buttons of her blouse. She paused, removed her bra, and turned to face us. Her breasts were high and firm, and she was exceptionally beautiful.

As the melody continued, she slipped off her skirt. Standing in only her stockings, a garter belt and high heels, she looked like the classic pin-up. She wore no panties, and we saw the fluff of her pubic hair.

The man in the robe beckoned her and she sat on his knees, gradually unrolling her stockings. After a few kisses, she arose and strolled to the table, sitting on its side and kicking off her shoes.

To the sounds of the song, she curled her body backwards and draped her thick hair over the edge of the mattress. We were close enough to see every detail.

Her hands cupped her breasts, pushing them upwards. Licking her fingers, she tweaked her nipples and moaned with pleasure. She gracefully placed her hands on her thighs and gently pushed her fingers into her vagina.

The young man approached the bed and leisurely dropped the robe. He was huge and completely erect. Robin, Connie, and I gasped in unison.

He started rubbing her feet and spread her legs as he climbed on the table, running his tongue between her thighs and up toward her torso. When he was completely on top of her, he kissed and lightly blew on her nipples. He positioned his penis to her vagina and slowly entered.

I glanced at Connie, sitting with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. Instead of being at a sex exhibition, she could have been in church. Robin leaned forward, her fingers gripping the edge of the bench. She looked like she was attending a football game. I sat still and thought of my father’s anxiety about my chosen profession.

We heard the pounding of their thrusts. Then the climax. But not another sound. Dead silence.

They lay together for a moment, exhausted and spent. A glow of sweat engulfed their bodies. A maid came in with towels and robes, wrapping them as they dismounted the bed. Despite the romantic music, the scene was too vivid and the lights too bright.

“Most of the time, I’m told, you hear whistles and catcalls,” Jack whispered. He added, “I think the soldiers were embarrassed to have women in the room.”

Another event started soon after—one between a donkey and a woman. The five of us decided we had had enough local “entertainment.” Even my free-spirited mother would have been horrified.

Our ride home was unusually quiet. We had been overwhelmed by the drama, and our hollow reactions made our escorts uncomfortable. At the cinderblock motel we left the jeepney and walked to our rooms.

“Do you think the other gals will believe us?” I asked.


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