“Rena,” I look at her seriously. “It’s not too late for you either. You’re not old. You’re not stuck with the kind of men that made you unhappy before. You can still find love, you can find good sex, and have a happy life for yourself too. I don’t know how we could help, but every one of us here in this room would like to, and I’ll bet eventually we could help you find the kind of sexual relationship that makes you happy.”
Rena smiles, and I hope I haven’t bitten off more than I can chew. So far this wonderful tribe of loving perverts has self assembled, almost by accident. I’m not sure that qualifies me to actually and actively seek out and find someone worthy of Rena. But damn it, if I can, I will!
The music stops, and the dancers mill about into new groups, with the sound of multiple simultaneous conversations rising. “Hey everybody, is anybody here brave enough to do karaoke? Or do you have to be drunk to try it?” Joanne’s challenge calms the tittering of the crowd, or at least changes its tone.
“Yes!” shouts Mimi. “Ok,” shrugs Taylor. “Do it!” orders Sonia.
No rearrangement of the room is required. The laptop stand becomes the karaoke podium, the app is logged into, and the big screens on the wall become the visual for the singers and the guide for the rest of us to follow along with. There’s not much else to do but for the attendees to gather in a location that allows them to face the singers. And of course, refills on drinks need to come first. The drinks are mild, juices, water, soft drinks, and some sweet wine. This is not a beer or hard liquor crowd.
Nearly every published song in memory is recreated somewhere as a karaoke version, and for the remaining few that aren’t, there is software that suppresses the vocal track while retaining the primary musical background. The quality of all these efforts is somewhat uneven, but the songs that everyone knows and loves are represented perfectly well. Some can be played directly from the internet, some require a purchase agreement service, but Joe, and even more Joanne, have been doing this for a long time. Mimi tells me they used to host sex and karaoke parties in San Diego before they moved away. I had no idea such things existed, but if they want to restart the tradition here in Austin, I’m all in favor of it. As long as I’m not the one singing, of course.
Jo starts us off with a surprisingly good rendition of the old Michael Jackson hit, “The Way You Make Me Feel.” She’s got the rhythm, she hits the high notes, she sashays well, the hip checks are superb, and she has the perfect gravelly voice for – the Rod Stewart version. It’s wildly entertaining. The fact that she looks really great naked doesn’t hurt at all. She has us all singing along and swaying to each other during the chorus.
The way you make me feel
You really turn me on
You knock me off of my feet
My lonely days are gone
I find myself thinking “Rod Stewart actually could have pulled this one off!”
It’s a great start to the festivities, and we didn’t even have to get drunk to enjoy it. Even Rena is swaying, dipping and twisting, with a big smile on her face as we sing patches of the verses to each other with our fake microphones.
Next up is Taylor. I know what he’ll sing. He’s taken me to karaoke clubs a few times in the past, and while he has a fairly large list of songs that he chooses from, he nearly always sings his first one to me. He’s such a romantic, that’s one of the many reasons I love him. We have an ancient DVD from an old movie, well, not that old if it’s compared to ”It’s a Wonderful Life,” but it doesn’t seem to have set the box office on fire. Called “Pure Country,” it featured country superstar George Strait playing the role of, well, a country superstar, who’s tired of “The smoke, the lights, and the glitz” of his Hollywood style concerts, and just wants to play his country guitar and sing simple country love songs. It’s a bit campy, and every now and then we watch it when we’re in a weird mood. I have to admit the songs are sweet.
Taylor gets in front of the room, certainly without any smoke, lights, or glitz, and without the country guitar for that matter. Also, for the first time, he’s performing it without clothes. It should be interesting. What he does have, is the perfect tenor voice for singing it.
“Our love is unconditional,
We knew it from the start
I see it in your eyes,
You can feel it from my heart
From here on after
Let’s stay the way we are right now,
And share all the love and laughter
That a lifetime will allow”
No hip swinging, no prancing, no twirling. He just stands there, relaxed, cock flaccid, no showmanship, looks directly at me, and sings. And my heart leaps to my throat. If there’s anything that can make me rethink polyamory, it’s when Taylor sings me a love song. I’m such a sucker.
“I cross my heart
And promise to
Give all I’ve got to give
To make all your dreams come true
In all the world
You’ll never find
A love as true
As mine.”
Damn. I can’t say there’s not a dry eye in the house, but there’s not a dry eye in my face. There’s not a dry spot between my legs, either. It happens every time. Joanne is looking a bit weepy too. Rena is sniffling. Phoebe is beaming, while Megan, Hera, and Sonia look more like they’re smirking. They just don’t understand romance, I guess. Angela and Rick applaud politely, as do all the men.
As Taylor and I stand face to face, sharing an intense eye-locking moment, Megan unceremoniously inserts herself, grabbing Taylor’s cock.
“You’re such a romantic,” she says rather sarcastically, and pulls him away and out of sight. The confused look on Taylor’s face is precious.
“We’re next!” calls out Hera, and Henri finds his own cock clutched, as she leads him to the front of the room. He follows good-naturedly, as well as out of necessity, and our hostess Joanne just so happens to have a second microphone available. I don’t know how or when, but apparently Hera and Henri have already worked out a duet. He looks a lot more comfortable in front of the room than Hera does. It’s an entertaining thought that someone who doesn’t hesitate to ride this cock and get pounded in front of everyone, even her own mother, who feels no need to suppress her vocal public orgasms, looks so shy when she’s suddenly faced with the realization that she’s going to sing a song in public. In her nervousness, she doesn’t let go of Henri’s cock at all during the performance, although she does use it as a prop to punctuate her lines.
Henri obviously knows the song better than she does, Bobby McFarrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” I’ve never heard him sing before, but I’m not at all surprised that he does it well, since his speaking voice is so naturally musical. Henri does the main lines,
“Here’s a little song I wrote,
You might want to sing it note for note,”
And then Hera chimes in for the kicker,
“Don’t worry, be happy”
As she sing-song speaks the words, she lifts up Henri’s cock and points it at the audience like a group microphone. Henri takes it like a man.
“In every life we have some trouble,
But when you worry you make it double,”
“Don’t worry, be happy.”
Ok, no grammies here. But it’s great fun, and even more entertaining to see how Henri’s cock actually responds to the constant stimulation throughout the song, and is a legitimate half-mast by the time it’s done. Henri is obviously not worried, and he does look happy. Hera, on the other hand, looks relieved when it’s over.
I’m looking around, but I still don’t see Taylor and Megan.
“Alright, next is Sonia,” calls out Joanne. Sonia does strut. She does swing.
“Nice classics tonight,” she croons. “Anybody ready for something a little more contemporary?”
Of course we’re all going to cheer. What else can we do? The bar is being raised, and this might as well be the last song of the evening, because nobody else will come close. This is Sonia singing.
“I thought about doing one of my own songs, but it’s not published yet, it’s not set up for karaoke, I didn’t bring my band, and nobody bought tickets! But here’s one that’s going to be a big part of my stage show for my upcoming tour.”
I recognize the song immediately, she’s been playing it at Carl’s the last couple of Saturdays during our workout. It’s Janelle Monae’s “Make Me Feel,” and she, without a doubt does just that.
“Baby, don’t make me spell it out for you
All of the feelings that I’ve got for you
Can’t be explained, but I can try for you
Yeah, baby, don’t make me spell it out for you”
She moves across the room, but now she’s not strutting, she’s not prancing, she’s not dancing or walking. She envelops it. We’re all a part of the landscape, and she is the tornado that lifts it sky high. She owns this song.
“It’s like I’m powerful with a little bit of tender
An emotional, sexual bender
Mess me up, yeah, but no one does it better
There’s nothin’ better
That’s just the way you make me feel
That’s just the way you make me feel
So real, so good, so fuckin’ real
That’s just the way you make me feel
That’s just the way you make me feel”
I’ll never be able to visualize anyone ever singing this song again as long as I live other than Sonia. And it must, it absolutely HAS to be performed naked. There’s no other way. But that’s part of the reason Sonia has to do it. Nobody looks as spectacular naked as she does.
I expect every cock in the room to be standing straight up, and every cunt to be leaking uncontrollably. Mine is.
Even Megan and Taylor are back, and looking starry-eyed. I notice that his cock really is in full flight deck mode.
We take another quick break for refreshments. We’re all pretty drained after that display.
Once we’re ready to go again, it’s Mimi who volunteers for the microphone. While not quite up to Sonia’s level of perfection, Mimi looks fantastic naked, especially considering she’s nearly sixty years old. Her cherubic face and smiling eyes compliment her beautiful frame perfectly, and her voice is very easy to listen to. The song she chooses is even more memorable.
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