Elisa, Nov 2002

                     

                          

 

Elisa is showing me how to take them off. She puts my hand on the position my drivers ED instructor once told me was ten and four. She is telling me that I need to slough her attire in one slope. The pets have just been let in from the outside. It is late November and it is freezing. I am trying to warm up by entering into her body.

 

            She writhes, a separate creature, a red carpet coming to life under the unsuspecting hoofs of celebrities, she writhes. She devours. The condom has long snapped and I find myself wading inside of her, trying to press and come into the mattress, wading, striking my limbs, trying to press myself deeply into the mattress only she is there and I must escape through her body first. I must come out of one end of her. I must press my entire body through her central orifice and come out on the other side alone, wet from her residual warmth, naked. The heavy thrust and gray dirge of the kicking November Wind rattles me further inside of her. Still I am stuck. I am trying to find my way out.

 

            He room is like the inside of a tea cup; an ice cream social. Everything is neat and precise. There are hat boxes and Smith albums on the wall.

 

            Falling inside her, Joseph descending into the well, the light above winking into a period side slant of darkness. My attire on the floor, being gnawed by salivating dogs.

She keeps telling me that I am hitting the spot. She keeps telling me to keep doing what I am doing. She tells me that I am hitting the spot. She tells me to fuck her, She wants me to ram her. She wants me to carelessly thrust everything I am inside of her. She wants me to throw her across the room with me still in her body. She wants me to keep on doing this. To keep on hitting the spot. The alarm is going off inside of her entire body right now, and she demands that I continue. That I continue savagely thrusting her like this. Pumping up and downs. M whole by acting like a water pump or an oil well, mercifully thrusting, trying to drill deep enough so that something erupts from her face and her body relaxes, she comes. Everything is a rushed current. I can feel the subtle waves rocking underneath. I can feel the hair on her arm applaud, granting the motions of my body a standing ovation. But I am not finished yet.

 

            Biting down hard, my teeth gnawing my bottom lip into pulp, I harness my arms and steadfastly fasten them around her bottom, taking deep breathes as if I am about ready to drown, I thrust even deeper, harder, waiting a calculated three seconds before each thrust.

            Her eyes begin to rattle. I can feel every organ inside of her tightening up. I can hear her loose breath, and see her eyes clasping shut, a private opera entertaining beneath the drawn limbs, taking her to a place I have never been.

 

            Slowly I continue to thrust and measured intervals. Her eyes slightly wedge open. Her mouth slightly cuts into a half-smile, half-frightened look. She is going to the place where I am taking her, the conductor, now, She bites into my back with her nail chiseling into my flesh. She is sloping off of a precipice. She is tumbling. She doesn’t want to let go and free fall but she knows that when she does I’ll be right here to catch her. I’ll be right here to hold on to her. She falls through the heavens of ecstasy only to wake up in the arms of the person who brought her there, the person who cannot fly to such heights himself.

 

            Forcefully I thrust, trying to breath life into a tight, petrified body. She wails out at me to keep going. She wails out at me to keep fucking her. She wails out at me that she never wants me to stop fucking her. She never wants to leave the place where I am taking her, the place where she is in my arms.

            I keep going. I keep thrusting. One more time. I need to make her come a third time. I need to make her yell out that I am everything she has ever wanted in the world. I need to bring her to the realization that we are perpetually continuing life here on this planet. That we are, by this very act, engendering hills and rivers and sunsets; instigating a populace; planting seeds, armies, constituting universities and cities. I keep fucking. I keep trying to devour her with the rattle of my pelvis. From the gazed look in her eyes she is going back to that place again. She is retreating back to that place I bought her. My tempo increases.

All of a sudden everything inside of me is emptying in spurt from the center of my body. She is biting into me. I am letting go of whatever it the albino white of my torso was gripping.

She is nothing but giggles and bites and smiles and lies we tell ourselves in order to come alone, together.