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Sexpo Danish Style


Sexpo 70 they called the sex fair, dedicated to the proposition that "sex should be a completely pagan fun thing... a rollicking, joyful, yelping, giggling, gamboling game at which any member can play." Except that things soon became more complicated!

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Sexpo Danish-Style

Peter Kanto

This page copyright © 2007 Olympia Press.


“SEX,” BEN HUFF said, “should be a completely pagan fun thing. It should be a rollicking, joyful, yelping, giggling, gambolling game at which any reasonable number can play.”

“But, baby,” Trudy protested, all eyes and lips which were naturally wet and tempting, “you can't even walk in the park.”

“True,” Ben said, “but I'm talking about sex as a parlor game, not as a perverted, sado-masochistic, repressed, animal neurosis. I'm talking about sophisticated sex, the pleasant pastime of liberated people.”

Ben was holding court in the apartment he couldn't afford, overlooking the park in which one couldn't walk. He had come in from the outside chill to find his neighbors, two pretty bits of cloth-of-gold fluff, stymied by the relative shapes of a box and the incinerator chute and, in his scheming, one-way effort to bring said pieces of fluff together with a bottle of vodka, had neglected to remove his long, belted suede jacket The scarf, loose at his neck, matched his brown eyes. His wiry, sandy hair was curled wildly by the cold wind of the canyons outside and his cheeks were just beginning to warm.

“Oh,” Rena said, “you mean like the pill and sexual liberation and all that.” Rena was a delicate little morsel who had immigrated from the cold vastness of some northwestern state. She found the New York December to be balmy. She had lank but clean hair, long, brushing her small shoulders and a soft sweater, an engaging bit of something wrong with one eye which was, on her, not a handicap but an endearing characteristic which made a man want to hold her and tell her, nevermind, honey. It wasn't what you'd call a real cast or anything. It was just a pretty little something which made her very human and made her look as if she were always just about to close her eyes to be kissed.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “Like that.”

“But don't you think it can be carried too far?” Trudy, gamin-haired, sensuous, small-breasted and dark, frowned an intellectual frown at a wall plaque which read in bold red-white-and-blue letters: FUCK COMMUNISM.

“Are we talking about sex or language?” Ben asked, smiling. He had a disarming smile, toothy, more a grin than a polite smile. It made him look more boyish than his thirty-one years. “Because if you're talking about yonder slogan,” which, incidentally, he'd had printed in quantities of five thousand per lot, “it would lose its shock value if we said, for example, INTERCOURSE COMMUNISM, wouldn't it?”

Trudy flushed. Rena giggled.

“Let's take some other four letter words,” Ben said. “Take the word kill. To me, nothing can be more obscene. I know it's not an original idea, but have you seen any movies lately? The big gig now is blood. They kill people on the screen. Hell, they've always killed people on the screen, but in the past it's been sort of impersonal and make-believe stuff. Like John Wayne would shoot a gun and it would go bang and a bad guy would say, ohhh, and just lie down. But now—just the other night I saw a guy kill another one with a ball point pen, jamming it into the jugular vein in close-up and full color. Then when there was a love scene they faded away. You can show killing but you can't show love-making, huh?”

“Gee,” Rena said, shaking hex long, dark hair, “I'd never thought of it that way.”'

Trudy, meanwhile, had undertaken a tour of the main room. She paused before a black and white enlargement of a girl named Carol. Since Carol was modest, she'd insisted that her face not be included in the print, which showed a lush set of breasts with excited nipples. (That was natural, Ben thought, with a self-satisfied grin of memory, since he was fairly adept at exciting nipples.) The print also showed long hair down a smooth back, graceful arms, a thin, indented waist and a navel which was not indented. It showed legs folded under and the lush, dark vee of pubic hair which seemed to fascinate Trudy.

“It's really quite nice,” Trudy said, with Ben standing at her elbow.

“I think a woman is the world's greatest art form,” Ben said.

“Is it, I mean did you—” Trudy couldn't finish.

“Did I take the picture?”

“Yes. I mean—”

“I did it with my little brownie,” Ben said.

“Gee,” Rena said, “I think it's nice.”

“Sure it's nice,” Ben said. “What's to be unnice about it? A pretty girl with a lovely body, an art form.” He grinned into Rena's face. She sipped vodka and tonic and met his eyes. “Have you ever posed in the nude?” He watched her reactions. She didn't shock.

“I had a job modeling underwear,” she said.

“Let's take some nudies,” Ben said, still grinning at her.

“All right,” Trudy said. “Take off your clothes.”

“That's not the way it works,” Ben said. He walked to a table, opened a drawer, took out small prints of Carol. He handed them to Rena, concentrating on her because of the look of natural sexiness about her. She thumbed through them. All were arty poses, nudes, but artistic. She was genuinely interested.

“She has a nice body,” Rena said.

“So do you,” Ben told her.

“Are you in the business or something?” Trudy asked.

“What business?”

“I mean photography.”

“No. I just like taking nude pictures of pretty girls.

“I'll bet,” Rena giggled.

“Most girls enjoy it, too,” Ben said. He took Trudy's' glass and poured two full ounces of vodka into it, topping it with a squeeze of fresh lime and a taste of tonic water. Handing it back to her he said, “I'd like to take some of you.”

“Oh, no you don't,” Trudy said. “I've heard about that sort of stuff. The guy who prints the pictures runs off dozens and sells them and then they show up in magazines and—”

“Polaroid,” Ben said, lifting a new 360 with electronic flash. “Instant editing. You see the print. I see it. If you don't like it we destroy it.”

“You're really funny,” Trudy said. “We walk into your apartment for the first time and you try to get us nude before we've even finished one drink.”

Ben laughed. “O.K. So I'll stop trying until you've finished two drinks.”

Rena giggled. Ben had her pegged as a girl who was sensitive to alcohol. She was already showing the effects after only two ounces of hundred-proof stuff. He restocked her. He sat down and examined them, legs, arms, breasts, all the standard equipment for girls. Both of them were assembled nicely. Both of them, he knew, had active social lives. He could hear the music and laughter from their parties. He'd seen them coming and going from the house with various escorts, none of them handsome enough or rich enough to be serious competition. He knew enough about them to be hopeful. Rena worked as a shorthand and typing secretary. Trudy was currently between jobs. This was one of his hole cards. He was in the market for girls.

“What do you do, Mr. Huff?” Trudy asked, almost as if she sensed the direction of his thoughts. “I mean besides taking nude photos?”

“At the moment I'm involved in putting together the greatest show on earth,” Ben said.

“Sure,” Trudy said.

“Oh!” Rena looked at him with a new interest. “Are you a producer?”

“Try me,” Ben suggested with a bawdy leer.

“No, really,” Rena said.

“Ever hear of Sexpo?” Ben asked.

“Expo?” Trudy said.

“No,” Ben said. “Sexpo.” He said it clearly. “S-E-X-P-O,” he spelled.

“No,” Trudy said coldly.

“You will,” Ben said. “Now let's take some nudies.”

“I think we'd better go,” Trudy said, standing. She had a lean figure with womanly hips and breasts which looked to be about bite size.

“I'm currently staffing,” Ben said.

“Staffing?” Rena looked knowingly at Trudy. Ben didn't miss the look. Because his rent was due and because he didn't have the money to pay it, he was fully aware of the cost of living. Even cut two ways the rent on one of the apartments overlooking the park was tough. “Let's not go just yet, Trudy,” Rena said. “Tell us more, Mr. Huff.”

“Not unless you forget this formality and call me Lover,” Ben said.

“All right, Lover,” Rena said. Ben noticed with satisfaction that she'd already almost killed the second man-killing drink. “Tell us what you're staffing.”

“Well,” Ben said. He paused. About Sexpo, he was serious. It was fun to tease with the girls, but when he started talking Sexpo he had to be serious. Sexpo was another word, in his vocabulary, for survival. He had every dollar he could gather together tied up in the plan. And he was meeting his banker the next day for more dollars, borrowed dollars, if he could convince a hard-faced, slick money-man that his idea was the greatest thing since Disneyland.

“I need high class personnel for many positions,” Ben said. He centered his gaze on Rena. “For example, I'll need secretaries. I'll need secretaries for good, solid work, and if they're sort of, uh, well stacked and, uh, pleasant to look at, well, there will be other opportunities.”

“Like?” Rena was smiling, but she was being serious, too.

“Guides. Hostesses.”

“Just what is Sexpo?” Trudy asked, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again. Ben's eyes, as are the eyes of all men, were drawn to the flash of girl.

“God, I love short skirts,” he said.

“Yes, I've noticed,” Trudy said, but she was thawing. The talk about positions had her turned on. Her smile was real.

Rena looked at her friend and said to Ben, “What do your positions pay, Mr. Huff?”

Since they were talking business, Ben didn't challenge the use of the formal mode of address. “What are you making now?”

“One seventy-five,” Rena said. Actually, she was making one and a quarter.

“I think a good girl, a really good one, should earn at least two hundred, don't you?” Ben wasn't saying he would be paying two hundred. Not at all. He wasn't even sure he'd be paying anything, but he did, in truth, feel that a good girl was worth two hundred. He saw the flash of sudden interest in Trudy's eyes.

“Lover,” Rena said, smiling, looking at him with that sexy little something in her eyes, “let's us talk.”

“First,” Ben said, “let's get comfortable. Who wants to pose first?” He held up the camera and grinned.

“This man has a one track mind,” Trudy said.

“Well, you realize, of course, that I must audition all talent,” Ben grinned.

“I thought we were taking secretarial positions,” Rena said.

“With extras,” Ben grinned.

“Woah,” Trudy said. “Let's define those extras.

“Looking pretty in brief costumes,” Ben said. “It's as simple as that. Now I notice that you're both wearing pantyhose. I happen to think that the pantyhose is one of the world's sexiest garments. If you'll just drop your skirts and keep on your tops—”

“Tell us more about your, uh, operation,” Trudy said.

“Somehow,” Ben said, “I can't seem to concentrate with all this clothing around.” He suddenly remembered that he was still in his street clothes. He stood, took off his suede coat, tossed it across a chair, threw the scarf after it. He was dressed in a black shirt with a high neck. It showed his chest nicely. His trousers were beltless and taut over a rock-hard belly which showed little ribs of muscle. “Now, in all seriousness, girls, I'd like to see your legs.”

“Legs?” Rena asked, laughing. She'd finished her drink. Ben laughed with her. He had her glass filled within seconds.

“It's important for the job,” Ben said.

Rena stood up. She wore a short skirt and a neat sweater. Her legs were well formed, very attractive in the light colored hose. “Do I pass?”

“I can't really tell,” Ben said. “I'd like to see more.” He opened his camera, turned on the flash. The marvelous little gadget whined and then started beeping to show that the flash was ready.

“Look,” Rena said. “Is this on the level? I mean, are you serious about a job paying two bills a week?”

“Deadly serious,” Ben said. Indeed, he was. He was so serious he was staking his entire future on his ability to pay not just two, but perhaps two dozen girls as much as two hundred a week. He didn't tell them that there were still a lot of ifs involved.

“All right,” Rena said. She lifted her sweater. She showed a tantalizing glimpse of midriff, taut, all girl.

She opened the waistbutton, zipped, and the little skirt dropped to the floor. Her sweater came to the point of her pelvic vee, just barely hiding the sweet little darkness which rested there. Ben pushed the button. Flash. Rena jumped. “Hey!”

“Just us,” Ben said, jerking out the white tab, taking the film out. He put the camera back down and waited for the beep which would tell him the picture was ready. He was using color. “For my records. But if you don't want me to keep it—”

Rena, in sweater and pantyhose, was a delight. Her legs were smooth. The pantyhose were light up to the mid-thigh and then darkened. The contrast was lovely.

Beep. Ben stripped the backing away from the picture. “Ummm,” he said. It was damned good. A look of surprise on her face, full length, long, lovely legs, the sweater just hiding her sweetness.

Rena's curiosity was too strong. “Let me see.” She looked over his shoulder.

“Beautiful,” Ben said.

“Hummm,” Rena said. Secretly, she was very pleased. She liked the way she looked in the brief attire, legs long and sexy.

“Now let's try one sitting down. Sit on the couch and put one leg up. You know, just cock it up and let the other one sort of fold under you.”

She was willing. She sat on one leg, cocked the other, heel on the edge of the couch. Ben shot. The picture was nice, but she'd kept her legs close together. “You make a good model,” he told her. 'You photograph extremely well.”

Rena looked at herself in color and licked her full lips. “Hey,” she said, “I know a pose—”

He had her. But there was another one to consider. “Let's audition Trudy first,” he said.

“I think I need to know a bit more about this job,” Trudy said.

“Come on,” Rena said. “With those nice legs of yours I'll bet you'll make a good model, too.”

“I'm sure she will,” Ben said. “Just take off the skirt, honey.”

“Ah, hell,” Trudy said. “Well—” She rose. She had a white, long-sleeved blouse tucked into her skirt. She pulled it out. The skirt joined the other brief one on the floor. She was taller than Rena, but her tallness was well proportioned. The blouse came to the top of her thigh, making the very shortest of coverings for her pubic vee. Ben shot. One minute later the three of them examined the photo. Meanwhile, both girls worked on the double-strength drinks.

Ben really did like pantyhose. And he was extremely pleased to find that neither girl wore anything under them. It gave him a warm glow of satisfaction to know that only a thin membrane of material enclosed two of the sweetest treasures he'd been near in months. He could imagine them under the pantyhose, hot, mellow, closed up by the tightness of the pantyhose but ready to open like sweet, hot-wet flowers. He posed the girls separately, together, sitting, standing. He used up two rolls of color at over fifty cents a shot and the dollars and cents made an unpleasant ringing in his head, but what the hell. It was only money, and things were getting interesting.

“I think it's sorta fun,” Rena giggled, after Ben had coaxed her into opening her legs just a bit in a seated pose. The color picture showed her dark vee through the dark hose. “And it's not at all like I thought it would be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, taking nudies, I mean. I always thought it would be sort of snicker)' and all.”

“The female body can be an art form,” Ben said. “I can take pictures of you completely in the nude which will be artistic and not snickery.” His mind was working.

“For example, see that table?” His coffee table was low and solid. “You could pull off your blouse, your sweater, and sit on the rug behind it. We'd concentrate on your breasts. And we'd make the picture tell a story, make it seem natural.”

“Yeah?” Rena was definitely interested.

“Yes,” Ben said. “I mean, well, you could be working a jig-saw puzzle.”

“But no one would look at the puzzle,” Trudy said, “not the way she's hung.”

“Let's try it,” Ben said. He knelt in front of the table, held the camera to his eye, tried to look professional, tried to hide the fact that he'd long since developed a massive erection.

Rena considered it for a moment. As so often happens, the ham in her was coming out. She liked being the center of attention. She liked having pictures made. She had always been proud of her body. What harm to show it? What harm to have it photographed? “Turn your head,” she said. Ben turned his head. When he looked back Rena was sitting on the rug behind the table. She had her hands in front of her breasts. Ben looked through the viewfinder and focused.

“Spread the puzzle out with most of the pieces up, so they'll show color,” he said. Then, with two white, taut, rounded breasts clearly defined in the viewfinder, he felt his hardness give a frantic little throb. He shot. The picture was surprisingly good. Fresh, clean breasts made the focal point. Nipples at rest. Soft rose circles about them. Rena was looking down seriously at the puzzle, a piece of it in her hands.

“Jig-saw puzzle with breasts,” Ben said, showing them the photo. “Nice?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Rena said. “Girls pose for magazines all the time. Nothing wrong with it.”

“Of course not,” Ben said. “The female body is an art form. I can take full length nudes which are just as artistic.”

“You do it, Trudy,” Rena said. “Let's take a picture of Trudy, Ben.”

“Sure,” Ben said. “Trudy, why don't we take a full length shot, just to show that it can be done artistically.”

“I think they're nicer with some clothing,” Trudy said.

“Oh, sure. You sort of use the clothing to drape and add accent.” Ben rose, turning quickly to hide his erection. He brought a silken wrap from the closet. “I don't know how it got here,” he lied. He knew full well. A cute little chick named Rose had left it some months past when he said that marriage was out of the question. “But we can use it as an accent piece. Just take off your clothing and put this over your shoulders.” He held his breath. The success of the present venture depended on Trudy now. And curiosity, vanity, whatever it is that makes girls wants to be photographed in the nude, won out. Trudy dropped blouse, bra, pantyhose. She was wrapped in the silk gown. She showed through darkly at the pelvis and pointedly at the breasts.

“Just lie down on the rug,” Ben said. She lay down. “Now let the gown fall open.” She let it fall. He saw tantalizing breasts, big and full, the whiteness of belly. She held it over her pubic area, however.

“A bit of pubic hair is acceptable,” Ben said. “It adds a certain dimension.”

“Here,” Rena said, moving forward, forgetting that she was dressed only in pantyhose. Her rump was a lovely sight, accentuated, as she knelt beside Trudy and pulled the green silk material all the way off the lovely, female form, left the dark vee of hair visible, the white stomach, the big breasts. Sam was panting. He shot the full length nude. He showed it to them. He posed Rena on the couch. She bent one leg under her, let the other stretch out. She pulled her sweater just over her stomach, but left the breasts, the vee of hair, the thighs showing. Ben shot. He felt slightly dizzy anticipating the pleasures to come.

He examined the two nudies. He licked his lips. “Art,” he said.

“Art, hell,” Trudy said. “Don't give me that art jazz. You're getting your kicks.”

“I won't deny it,” Ben said. “But to be truly sexy, you have to be a bit more basic in pictures.”

“How much more basic can you get?” Rena giggled, admiring her nude figure.

“Well,” Ben said, “to really turn me on it would take crotch shots.”

“Huh?” Trudy asked. She killed her drink.

“To show the, uh, basic female anatomy. That's what I like, if you're asking.”

“I wasn't, Trudy said.

“Since we're all friends,” said Ben, “why don't I show you what I mean?”

“You mean you want to take a picture of, uh, a real, live, uh—” Rena paused, searching for a word.

“Vagina. To be clinical about it.” He pushed Rena onto the couch. “All right?”

Rena looked at Trudy. She shrugged.

“Take off the pantyhose,” Ben said. She stripped. Ben felt his hardness ooze passion. “Now just sit up and open your legs wide.”

She spread. Then she closed her legs after Ben had seen a pink-lined darkness. “Don't take my face, huh?”

“O.K.,” he said. He got close. He focused, drinking in the view of, and it was time to start thinking basic, I cunt. Cunt. Cunt. Cunt. God, it was sexy. It was lined with hair and a pinkness was around it. The lips were closed over the opening. It was a long, lovely slit of flesh between her soft thighs and he was throbbing with need.

When the picture developed, Rena said, “You got my face.”

“But you had your head turned away. And besides, we can destroy these pictures, you know.”

“Take Trudy's,” Rena said. Sex had definitely entered the drama. Ben licked his lips in anticipation. “Take it real close up, huh?”

He put Trudy, still with the green robe over her shoulders, on her back. He used his hands, savoring the warmth of her legs, her thighs, to spread her. Her cunt was slightly more haired, had slightly more developed labia, but still had the lovely sleeping look of wonderful cunt. He shot close. The picture showed the long slash, the brown rose of anus below, the softness of crotch around the cunt.

“Two together,” he said. “That really turns me on.” He put them on the couch. “Spread, ladies,” he told them. They, giggling, feeling the booze, feeling the sexual stimulation which made the air seem heady and thick, spread. “Wait,” he said. “I can't see Rena's.”

“How's this?” Rena asked, putting her right leg over Trudy's thigh, spreading her cunt for him.

“Glorious,” Ben said, snapping the picture.

“Whee,” Rena said, giggling, when she saw the color shot of two nice cunts side by side, feminine legs intertwined.

“Double whee,” Ben breathed, hardly able to keep from grabbing one or, preferably, both of them.

“So you've got your crotch shots,” Trudy said, grinning, looking at the two exposed cunts with a soft fine glow in her eyes.

“Lovely,” Ben gulped. “Lovely.”

“That's about the ultimate,” Trudy said. “That's about as sexy as you can get.”

“Not quite,” Ben said.

“Huh?” Rena asked, licking her lips. Then she grinned. “Yeah, we haven't taken a nudie of Ben.”

“That's not the way it works,” Ben said.

“Why not?” Rena asked. “Take off your clothes.”

“I warn you,” Ben said, “that the preceding activities have not left me exactly unmoved.” But he was willing. It was as good a way as any to get naked, and to do what he had in mind he had to he naked. He pulled off his shirt. He pulled off his pants and shorts at the same time and noted that both pairs of feminine eyes drawn to his rampant cock. It was long, hard, wet-nosed with eagerness. “O.K.” he said. “Now what?”

“I'll take a picture,” Trudy said. Ben showed her how to operate the camera, taking the opportunity to rub his hip against hers. She did not pull away. He knew he was in like Flynn. The thought boggled his mind, left him slightly groggy. He was no virgin, but two girls at once was still a new experience for him, and he sensed that both of these luscious chicks were to be his, his for all he could do to them, and he had several things in mind.

“Slowly take a seat on yonder couch,” Trudy said. “And we will begin.”

Ben sat. His cock stuck up along his belly. “Push it out,” Trudy said. “So we can see it.”

Ben put his hand on his cock. It pulsed, grateful for any contact. He pushed it out. “Wait,” Rena said. “It'll look better this way.” She sat, all nude and softness, next to Ben. She put her hand on the base of Ben's cock, squeezed to show him, privately, that the touch did not leave her unmoved, then smiled as she and Ben, almost smiling, looked down at Rena's hand on his hard cock. Flash. It was a new experience for him to look at his cock in a picture. He thought he had a fatuous expression on his face, but what the hell. The center of attention, aside from Rena's great set of tits and her nudeness, was his cock, all hard and enclosed at the base in Rena's hand.

“Now, I'll take one,” Rena said, when they had examined Ben's cock shot. “You sit next to him, Trudy.” Trudy sat next to him. She was larger than Rena, making that much more woman for loving. Ben felt thunder and explosions building up in his loins.

“Uh,” Rena said, looking at them through the view-finder, “why don't you pretend to eat him, Trudy?” Trudy, feeling the overwhelming atmosphere of sensuousness, bent, her hand on his cock. Ben leaned back, put his hand on Trudy's back, felt her heat and softness, caressed her with her lips inches from the wet head of his cock. Flash. Ben put his hand on Trudy's head and pushed, raising his loins $t the same time. She resisted only for a second, her lips closed against his cock, then opening, her body shuddering as his hand slid down to press into the crease of her rump and his finger reached under into heat and softness. Her lips, hot and wet, slid down the rim of his penis, her tongue wrapped around his cock, sucked. Then, almost guiltily, she jerked away, sighing. There was a hot period of looking at the latest picture, then discarding it with the others on the coffee table.

“You eat Trudy,” Rena sighed, her mind made fertile by stimulation. “I'll take the picture.”

Ben was more than willing. He was vastly stimulated. In short, he had a champion case of hot pants and the thought of kissing the sweetness between Trudy's legs made his breath come short. He positioned her on a low hassock. He lay flat on his stomach, his hard cock pressed against the stiff rug. He leaned forward, spread the lips of her cunt with his fingers, let his hand ride up to press against the bulge of her pubic mound and extended his tongue, whipped her clit back and forth with a flashing stroke before he lunged, sucked, took as much cunt as he could into his mouth, tasting the never duplicated womantaste, feeling the sensuous slickness, letting his tongue penetrate into the slightly stronger tasting opening and then pressing his nose hard against Trudy's clitoris. Trudy's loins bucked up, almost on their own impulse. She gasped. He worked her. He backed off slightly and tongue lashed her clitoris until she was squirming. Rena thrust the finished picture in front of Ben's eyes, along Trudy's belly. Reluctantly, now realizing he'd been eating her for a full...


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