The Pat Wong Diaries Ch. 24

Harry's visits to Paul were beginning to take their toll on Harry's physical health. He had been masturbating at least twice a day, every day for three weeks now, spending hours at a time watching pornographic tapes and DVDs with Paul and talking about sex, and it was starting to show. He was bleary-eyed and started sniffling, and for the first time in years, pimples started to appear on his face.

"This is not sustainable, Harry," I informed him. "You are exhausting yourself. You are fifty nine and you need to pace yourself."

Harry agreed. He fully trusted my instincts when it came to health issues and never resisted my suggestions.

"Maybe he can do it, day after day, but he is younger than you. You need to slow down. I know you enjoy it," I added, trying to sound understanding, "but you have to keep your balance."

Harry nodded. "He ejaculates three or four times a day," he said, shaking his head in envy. "Once a month, he forces himself to ejaculate six times, once every four hours, on the hour. He says it is very good for the prostate and keeps him young."

I ordered him to limit his visits to the weekends and to ejaculate only four times during the weekdays. I also put him on a high-protein diet of goat milk, Brie cheese, and egg whites, and a strict sleeping schedule. When he masturbated, I insisted that he limit his session to less than half an hour, which was plenty for him to get himself roused enough to ejaculate.

I also insisted that we had at least one coitus session together, apart from his allotted masturbation half-hours, and that during such sessions, he would focus on pleasuring me and bringing me to orgasm. I insisted on this because I was getting concerned that the relentless exposure to porn and masturbation he was experiencing would spoil his natural disposition to want to please me and to revel, as he always did, in watching me enjoy myself during sex. (Harry loved watching me masturbate and enjoyed it more than he enjoyed any porno movie, the sight of me having an orgasm.)

When he brought back tapes of Paul fornicating with women, or Carol being penetrated in front of her husband, Harry usually had me watch with him, encouraging me to masturbate and to come as often as possible. And the tapes were arousing enough and I did enjoy watching them. But more than the wanton images of a man with a large penis copulating with women he was not married to, and doing so in front of his wife, or a wife being egged on by her husband to open her legs wide and give herself fully out to other men -- what excited me was the commentary that Harry whispered to me as we watched.

"His wife is watching," he would say, pointing to the screen as we lay down, side by side, masturbating. Then he would get up and walk up to the TV, bring his face close to the screen and say, "Are you watching, Pat? This is what these people have been reduced to! Wanton fornication!" Then he would lapse to Chinese and begin to mouth out stern, wooden formulations that often made no sense in the context he was speaking them, such as, "Respect your elders," or "Keep your mind open and your mouth closed," or "Understand and make others understand," and so on.

I often laughed at such times. This was a sign that Harry was overly excited and was not able to contain his overflowing exuberance. Other times, when he couldn't contain himself, he would begin to stammer or, if he were speaking in English, his Chinese accent would become heavy and choppy and would start coming in the way of what he wanted to say.

"This is what it's all about," he often would whisper breathlessly, repeating one of his favorite all-American phrases. "This is how these white people live.... Men giving their wives to other men to do with them as they pleased.... Sex! Not the way we do it in our pure China.... And look at her.... Look at her big nose, Pat.... The nose, Pat, the nose.... I want to eat the boogers inside that nose.... Look at how she looks at her husband.... The cock... The cock...."

In the tapes, while being penetrated by the men, Carol often asked, addressing Paul and looking straight into his eyes, "Do you love me?" Paul always answered in a clear, strong voice, saying something endearing and always original: "I love you more than all the treasures on this lonely world, my sweetheart," or, "More than the cash and gold in Fort Knox." And whenever they engaged in such an exchange, Harry would explain, as though I needed an explanation, saying something like, "She wants to know if he loves her! She just wants love, Pat. All the cocks and the balls and the asses and the sweat and the semen -- all of that are just distractions. She just needs to know that her husband still loves her. And look at Paul. He loves his woman and cares for her like a lion. That's why he gets real mad when a man plays rougher than he should with her. And the men are afraid of him and his cock. They are afraid that he may turn against them and screw them in the ass."

And he went on like this, giving free range to his most intimate thoughts and impressions.

"And you know why I say he loves his wife truly? Because he proves it to here every time he screws another woman in front of her. For one thing, he never touches a woman without doing it in front of his wife. Now that's commitment and dedication. And second, he never tells the woman he screws that he loves her. He just grunts like an animal and focuses on penetrating, sucking, and aggressively kissing. The only person he says 'I love you' to is Carol, even when the woman he is penetrating says it to him and pleads with him to say it back to them. When they ask him for it, he bluntly turns to Carol and says to her, 'I love you my darling, only you!'"

It was what Harry said that always triggered my orgasms, rarely the lewd images and the bawdy language in the tapes. Harry was absolutely right: there was unmistakable love between Paul and Carol, love and respect and joy in their marriage. They had stumbled on a truth, a solid truth, about the nature of love, and they reveled in reaffirming that truth to themselves and to anyone who was alert and alive enough to glimpse it.