Her chest began to ache and she pulled back, licking the bottom of his cock from base to tip as she disengorged. When he was completely outside her, he drew in a long sustained breath through his mouth, making a sound like escaping steam. And at that point she remembered to suck air into her lungs. They stayed frozen in their attitudes, breathing heavily, sorting out the wildly complex impressions they had just been immersed in. The whole gesture had been so finely tuned, so essentially cerebral, that it barely passed muster as a sexual act at all; or rather, it was as though the sexual gyrations were a pretext for some other, less obvious, form of exchange.

  Snapping to like a man roused from a trance, Aaron seized her by the hair and brought her lips to his cock again. This time he used her, rocking her head around to offer different angles from which he could fuck her in the mouth. He pressed in against her temples, covered her ears, rendering her deaf and stoned, reducing her to the single function of cocksucker. He pressed his fingers into her neck so that her jaw relaxed and she opened further to accept his fierce thrusts. And once a momentum had been built, he released her, allowing her to go wild as she went down on him. She sank into a shaking oblivion, emerging as a slobbering animal, lapping and licking and nuzzling into his crotch, her hair wet from sweating, stringy over her shoulders and down her back. She growled as she gnawed at his cock.

  He was drawn into the spectacle and began to slide from the edge of the bed. He fell forward like a wounded bear, pushing her back. She moaned and flung her arms around his thighs, gluing her mouth to his cock, begging by sucking to continue to suck. He came to his knees and then toppled over until his chest lay on the floor; she wriggled under him, pinned by the cock which was rammed between her stretched lips. She kicked her heels into the floor as he pressed the full length of his cock deep into her throat, and when he pulled out she fought to keep the erection in her mouth, her tongue flickering vainly to lick it one last time before he removed it altogether.

  He rolled the bulk of his body down her stomach like lava inching downhill until he lay fully on top of her. Her warm thick breasts bulged against his chest, her still writhing lips found his mouth, and her hot cunt pressed against his groin. He reached down to slide one hand under her ass so that he could push his cock between her buttocks as he slid the base of it against her clitoris. Their bodies rocked like buildings in an earthquake as the imperative to fuck, the deep biological spasm of coupling, seized them spontaneously. With a single motion their hips rotated, their genitals swung back until the tip of his cock was at the opening to her cunt, and they joined together in a single movement.

  “Fuck…me…cock…” she said as the heavy organ split the furrows of her cunt like the prow of a boat slicing through the water.

  “Oh my dear God yes,” she said, and her arms and legs closed about him like the petals of a flesh-eating plant surrounding the insect which had landed to taste its honey. Her limbs grappled him in an embrace which did not allow him any freedom of movement. Blind and driven as a mole in dark earth she forced her way forward until she was completely impaled by the thrusting pole between her legs. The impact of the penetration shocked her entire system, so that she forgot his presence as the bearer of the gift and spun off into grunting grasping convulsions, a unitary reaction of Aaron’s cock bursting enormously inside her. As obscene as a twelve-year-old being humped over a garbage can in an alley, she rejoiced in her conditioning. All the years she had been taught sex was filthy formed images which she now brought to life with her body. For a short searing space of time she was being the dirtiest little girl in the world.

  He could not match the assault of her unbridled fury of lust. He began to withdraw from the closeness of the contact, and placed himself at a distance, servicing her by holding himself against her, acting merely as the surface she rubbed herself against. He cursed inwardly as his cock began to wilt. But she took no notice of the shrinking penis flopping aimlessly in her cunt, for she had already begun to negotiate the upper reaches of her climb to orgasm. He gave himself up to her use and wished desperately that he could have maintained an erection in order to derive the fullest pleasure from the moment. The energy which was blocked from entering his cock went to his brain, and he became ensnared in his thoughts. And as he drifted off into an interior reality, she pumped into him like a dog in heat, her cunt seeming to want to pull his entire pubic bone into itself.

  “You hot-assed bitch, you murky whore, come on my cock,” went the refrain through his head. But he could not say the words. His momentary impotence made him circumspect, as though only the sustenance of an erection gave him the right to assume attitudes of power, in the way that a bishop will not issue proclamations without holding on to his mitre. He feared appearing ridiculous. It was best when she lay under him, his buttocks crushing her mouth, his hands invading her cunt and pinching her nipples. Then he was able to lavish paragraphs upon her. Now he felt like the male in the embrace of a female black widow spider, paying for his ecstasy with his potency. The sensations in his cock were exquisite, more detailed and erotic than if it had been stiff, but he wondered whether she would climax on his limp penis.

  As often happened at such moments, he thought of Cynthia’s being with another man. “If I were someone else,” he said to himself, “would there be any difference in her reactions? Or is this just a thing she does when she reaches a certain level of excitation, regardless of who is lying on top of her?” Whenever he had asked her about that she had hastened to reassure him that she could be that way with no other man, but there was something about the speed with which she replied that only fired his suspicions further. It was inconceivable that she would lie outright; and yet he found it impossible to believe her. And as his doubt congealed in his mind, the flow of energy between them ceased, like a thread being snapped. Although there was no change in his outward behavior, the shift in mood changed the precarious balance of their act. She gasped, faltered, made one futile effort to leap to climax, missed, and then slid, tumbled and rolled down in series of spastic clutchings into a state of tingling frustration. She lay for a few seconds in a fit of listlessness, and then caressed his face and licked his throat in chagrin and gratitude, because she had been so high and come so close. The flavor of ecstasy was still on her tongue.

  He waited until she came completely to rest before he stirred. She lay under him like a stricken pigeon. Her mouth was as tender as it had been when she was sixteen and her face had temporarily lost all the lines of experience that had, after twenty-eight years, made her a seasoned woman. To his unfocused mind, to his floating eyes, she was a virgin once more, and he the lover who was the first to enter her. Her attitude seemed one of total trust and innocence mixed with palpitations of expectation, intuiting that she would soon be traveling to frightening peaks of pleasure, sensing that the man would be there to catch her as she swung from one pinnacle to the next. Her cunt was liquid with warmth and his cock mushroomed into hardness once again.

  “Oh sweet love,” she said as her legs rose like counterweights on a cantilever bridge, awesome in their scope.

  He gazed upon her and sucked in the precious rarity of that open captivity which is the finest favor a woman can bestow upon a man. She unfolded layer after layer of her nature, the beauty of her womanhood overflowing the outlines of her body until each portion of her anatomy glowed blue and yellow. “This is what I love,” he said, “when you are this soft, this vulnerable. All your other moods have no real meaning for me.”

  “Oh Aaron, fuck me,” she said, “just fuck me.”

  For her there was nothing but waves of heat, particles of cold, currents of air, vibrations of earth. Sensations as fragile as hummingbird wings blended into a single sense of ultimate yearning. She was at the outermost limits of her ability to maintain her awareness of herself as an entity. She evaporated into the consciousness of the enormity of existence and in her careening amorphousness felt the chill breath of death upon her forehead.

  “Aaron, hold me,” she said.

  Her breathing a ragged sighing, he lifted and lowered himself onto her, his cock bathing in the churning froth of her gaping cunt. He fucked her gently, not letting his feelings flood his awareness of the person who provided him with such unspeakable sensations. They fucked together, each in touch with the other, both in touch with themselves. Where there had been only a him and a her, there was now an us, and in the security of that knowledge they began to fly more freely, like acrobats who have finished their preliminary testing of one another’s reliability. He searched instinctively for some deep crevice inside her by following the arc of his own excitation. His cock homed in through its own intelligence. His conscious mind was relegated to the background, to act either as cheering crowd or critical audience. Her legs spread wider, her toes flexed, her heels pushed toward the ceiling. She gave him all the cunt she could.

  His pelvis dropped and he brought his cock in from a lower angle. She made a cry like tearing silk and clutched his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. He pushed his cock harder into her, and held it against the spot where she had been transfixed. A long moment passed in which there was no movement, and then a long low groan began deep in her throat, and erupted as a cry of primeval pain. She felt as though she were giving birth and being born all at the same time. An electric current zipped through her and she bunched herself around him. He slid his hands under her buttocks and shook her ass until the rocking motion spread from her crotch to her belly, loosening her spine and setting her head to rolling from side to side. She wept without tears and spilled herself out in a hot splashing orgasm which fell upon them like a thundering waterfall.

  While inside the vital passage through the center of his cock, the sperm trigger trembled for the full duration of her climax, threatened to fire, and then subsided into a state of quiescence. He did not come. He could continue to fuck. And he wilted at the thought of repeating the same delirious cycle again.

  As he collapsed on top of her, as though on signal, she once again wrapped herself around him and started the low shoveling movement which signaled the beginning of another ride. He became soft in her arms, his mind as throbbingly vacant as a nodding junkie’s. In the same way that it had taken spanking and forceful fucking to bring Cynthia to the point where she could contact the feelings which flowed beneath the characterological tensions of daily living, so it required her orgasm to relieve him of all sense of duty and allow him to relax into an unstructured exchange, one in which he did not have to dominate. She rolled him to his side and then to his back. She sat on top of him, her legs bracketing his hips, her cunt mouthing his protruding cock. She lowered her weight onto his body, and kissed him, her tongue greedy for the inside of his mouth and the responses in his lips that her pressure would give rise to. His lips were slack, and she took advantage of the relatively rare moment when he was no longer doing, but was content simply to be. His passivity translated into defenselessness for her, and all her tenderness was aroused. She slid her legs down outside his, and then on top of his, and moved between his thighs, forcing them to open wider. Her hands cupped his ass and pulled him into her. He traced the outline of her face with his fingers, his eyes closed, gently caressing her nose and cheeks and ears. Like a languorous woman under an energetic man he yielded his body up to her promptings, letting her take him with her rhythms, her methods, her insights.

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  The simple word was like a lash across her legs. She began to fuck him. Her knees dug into the bed and she rocked her cunt into him with a heavy beat. His knees came up to balance and grip her, and he put his arms loosely around her back. With each thrust he moaned, the sounds bubbling up involuntarily. Her own sounds began as excitement flushed her entire body and she started to flop around, her breasts slapping against each other, her head thrown back, her ass churning in all directions.

  “She’s going wild,” he thought.

  The image, titillating and distracting, had the effect of a grain of sand dropped into the delicate works of a fine watch. At the high velocity at which they were operating, the thought upset the timing of their act. He was ripped away from the immediacy of his involvement like a child being torn from its mother and the extraordinary fucking which had seemed so intensely real, became at once an obscure activity indulged in by people with whom he had only a faint acquaintance. Like a careless participant at a peyote ceremony glancing up at the stars and introducing cosmic insignificance into the drama, he tasted, at the peak of his sexual pleasure, the fear of his own nothingness. Immediately his cock softened and shrivelled into itself. As she felt it leave her she panicked and tried to grab it by contracting her cunt. But the sudden movement startled him and he turned his face to one side as he lost his power once more.

  The disgust he felt at himself was mirrored by the expression on her face. Before her humanitarian instinct made her understanding, she gnashed her teeth in frustration. Then she lay down on top of him and held him tightly. They moved into an embrace with the loving knowledge only possible between those who have fought many sexual wars together and have learned compassion through necessity. Without ever having articulated it as such, they shared a deep respect for the difficulties that man and woman share in any attempt at joining together.

  “I can’t do any more of these tonight,” she said at last. “You’d better come now.”

  She edged off him and lay on her stomach next to him. She was offering her body to be used for his climax, knowing that when he became totally selfish in his fucking he was like a stoker pouring coal into the flames, and she was more than happy at having her cunt be the oven he built his fire in. They looked into each other’s face with the knowingness of ghouls. They grew serious. His eyes smiled. Her mouth pursed. He slithered on top of her, adjusting his position until her buttocks slipped perfectly into the hollow of his groin. She continued to hold his gaze, turning to peer at him from over her shoulder. She did not exhibit the least change of expression as he dangled his cock between her cheeks and trailed it over the entire curve. It hardened as he moved, and when it was stiff he slid it between her thighs. Still watching him, she tilted her ass up and altered the cant of her cunt to meet his desire. He pushed forward and the thick organ entered the pink hole. As he penetrated, her lids began to fall. He looked deeply into her, and she let him watch as the overwhelming power of the sensations in her cunt flooded the lighthouse of her associative intelligence. She went under, and until the very end watched him watching her succumb.

  Her head dropped forward and he gently bit the tendons along her neck. She raised her haunches until she was on her knees, her thighs pressed along the tops of her calves, her back a long ski slope, her arms along her sides and going inward to her fingers which fondled her cunt lips and rubbed her clitoris. She gave up all thought of everything, including the man who was fucking her, and stepped bravely into the most frightening solitude, the loneliness of bliss.

  She was wracked by four orgasms, each a jagged peak of tension which brought her to a pitch of paralysis followed by a long fluttering release. Like a man tipping his hat in the presence of a funeral procession, he toned down the raucousness of his thrusts into her bottom after each of her climaxes, but did not drop his rhythm. When she had spent the fourth time, he knew he would come soon, and pulled out all the stops. Each breath exploded in a harsh bark, his hands formed fists and flew apart into planes again and again, like a man grasping and letting go, grasping and letting go. He fixed his stare on the sight of his cock sloshing in and out with such vigor and her cunt completely relaxed, taking his fiercest plunges crazily.

  The trembling began in his thighs and swept up his pelvis and then his spine, until he shivered from his knees to his head, the whole sinuous movement transmitted to her through the single energy focal point of his cock, which fucked her until she was white with screaming. He reared back like a man attacked by the flailing hooves of a maddened horse, and let the sperm shoot from his cock in a series of bursts, spill out, and subside to a dribble, and finally be squeezed out as his pumping reflex continued and she gripped the shaft with her cunt, sucking out the last drops of fluid. He felt the exquisite pleasure that comes to the vampire’s victim, the thrilling transfer of energy from one body to the next.

  Before he closed his eyes and collapsed beside her, he looked at her round mysterious ass and realized that if there were a dozen men in the room she could kneel like that for the entire night, taking one after the other, letting each fuck her until he came, allowing each of them four and five orgasms, until they were exhausted, and could then just rise, stretch her cramped legs, and feel as though, for once in her life, she had been properly satisfied.

  2

  In The Middle Of A Middle

  “I did it again,” he thought. “Fell asleep after fucking.”

  He had fed on fantasies of Cynthia’s body for the entire day as he shepherded twenty-nine eleven-year-olds through the prison-like paces of sixth grade. He was in his fifth year of teaching, having started in the Hunts Point ghetto and finding that when he had enough seniority to switch to one of the white middle-class schools, he preferred the black children, discovering in them a capacity for vitality which made the dreary routines of his day tolerable. Cynthia had wondered at his refusal to take a position in one of the “better” schools. As he sat at his desk, overseeing an inane exercise from the back of one of the reading books, he pictured her at her office, her knit dress clinging to the most delicate curves of her waist, the bulge of her breasts, the cleft of her ass. He had visited her there once, and knew that the other men who worked there watched her whenever she passed their desks, projecting their own desires into the inviting woman. For a moment he pretended he was one of them, and felt the fierce frustration at so badly wanting to touch and lick the sensuous flesh, and having no access to her. And holding on to the feeling of mounting unfulfilled passion, he pictured her naked body under his, as it would be that night, and exulted in the joy of having her. One of the things his relationship with her had taught him was that jealousy was merely the resistance against admitting how much he wanted other men to want her, and have her. In his mind he allowed her to be fucked by everyone, and the more he was free to imagine her with his stable of fantasy-men, the more exciting became her fidelity to him.

 

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