BY MARK GROWDEN

 

 

Ok, you asked for it. My most fucked up story:

 

 

Back in 1993 I was asked to play music for a sex party in San Francisco. I was a fresh-faced, 23-year-old sitting there in the corner of the room with some cymbals, a hi-hat on my left foot, a bass drum on my right, a lap steel guitar, accordion, saxophone, and various other wind instruments cycling through my hands, and a vocal mic with a delay pedal. My job was to create an ambient soundscape that underscored and also inspired the participants. It was kind of like accompanying a dance class.

 

 

To my right there were three women with strap-ons trying out a variety of sapphist configurations. Over to my left there was a woman on her hands and knees with a man behind her and another man taking advantage of her mouth. There were various groups of folks fornicating on the far side of the room, but I wasn't able to see them very well because directly in front of me, there was a group of about eight men standing in a circle masturbating. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.

 

 

That's when he walked in: some dude who looked like he had just rode his steed over from the Gandalf auditions for the Lord of the Rings films. The guy was probably in his early fifties. He had long, flowing salt and pepper hair; a floor-length, hooded purple cloak; baggy velvet pants; a blousy shirt; and a sash around his waist (he didn't wear a belt) with lots of little velvet pouches with drawstrings hanging from it. I don't think anyone in the room had noticed him... yet.

 

 

The Cloaked One sauntered around the room a little bit before finally choosing the circle jerk as his destination. The circle jerk was welcoming and the participants repositioned themselves to accommodate him before returning to their vigorous wanking. This is when Gandalf first made eye contact with me. He had a strangely competitive expression on his face. He was creepy as hell. Despite the other activities happening around the room, I couldn't stop watching this guy, and neither could all the guys in the circle jerk.

 

 

He slowly and deliberately uncinched one of the velvet pouches hanging from his sash to reveal a small metal object in the shape of a barbell. It was about three inches long with 1/2" diameter balls on each end. He held it up for all the participants to see. Then he reached down, pulled his dick out of his velvet parachute pants, and held it up for all the participants to see.

 

 

This is where things get weird.

 

 

Gandalf proceeded to insert the barbell into his dick hole. Now, this was a pretty kinky crowd, but not that kinky. The other fellows in the circle winced, as did I. Being good sports, they all did their best to keep the feeling alive, but Gandalf didn't let up. He began to pump the rod in and out of his cock while looking around the circle to make sure that the others were witnessing his special talent. And they did, which one by one made them all lose their erections. It was an awkward moment. The guys didn't know whether to stay or to go. It was as awkward as the beginning of a middle school dance when everyone is sitting there waiting for someone to get up on the dance floor, except these guys were wondering who was going to walk away from the deflated wankfest first. Finally someone initiated the exodus and one by one, they peeled away until it was finally just me, my instruments, and Gandalf, as I was obligated to accompany this fellow's antics.

 

 

Now here's the best part: when all the others had left and The Cloaked One was all alone, he turned to me and nodded his head triumphantly with a gloating smirk, smug as a preppy jock in a locker room telling his buddies about how he had boned the homecoming queen the night before.

 

I did my best to keep a straight face and kept the music going.