The swelling goes down a short time after I wake, though on
some mornings I have to wait, lying in bed, like the living dead, ahead of the
ring of the alarm clock, that part of my awakening in some other time zone the
sun has not yet reached, the turning of the planet, tides in my blood, swelling,
the throbs of need I feel, inspired by dreams to which I cannot always put a
face, though my conscious mind later assembles a line up of suspects, wanted
posters on the wall at the post office, leaving me to determine which culprit
is to blame, though I already know who it is, who it always is, even with my
eyes still closed.
I can’t make this sun stand still, delay what ahead of us
must lay to not embrace while we still may, leaves us with nothing to
celebrate.
I would spend a century praising what I see, and fight off
mortality’s inevitable steed, to admire your mouth, your eyes, your breasts wishing
for an eternity for each, leaving still all the rest, hurried as the winged chariot
hurries at our heals, this fate determined to catch us wherever we go, despite
all it is we feel, this need to have now what we won’t have later, to choose
love over all, as our fate hovers, threatening to catch what is ageless, love a
figment of our fertile imagination, a myth we cling to for to lose it we lose
all, and never see love come again, and life without love is not living, so we
cling to it now and hope we can hold on, if not for an eternity, then until we
can cling no more
Beth was Liz’s best friend, although they were as different
as night and day.
Liz was as flamboyant as drag queen, with thick makeup, and
wearing dresses straight out of 1930s Hollywood, coming the club each time we
played with a new movie star personality.
Beth was just as feminine but more demure, wearing dark clothes
that hugged her amazing body like a second skin.
This may explain why I was so attracted to her. She was a
mystery woman in scene where nearly everybody’s motives were blatantly obvious.
I hit on her more than once, advances she rebuffed with a
kindly smile.
“You’re not my type,” she told me.
But what was her type. She wasn’t like the usual collection
of women trying to give blow jobs to members of the band. She seemed as
uninterested in the band members as she was in me.
What appalled me is that I saw her leaving the club with other
men, in particular Bill or Jef, neither of whom I thought were worthy of her.
Each time I saw her leave with one or the other, I got
steamed, and jealous, my brain filled with images of one or the other making
love to her, while I was cast out as unworthy instead.
I mentioned this to her one night and she gave me a sympathetic
smile and a soft pat on my shoulder.
“That’s the way life is,” she said. “Don’t take it
personally. I don’t love them, I just enjoy their company.”
When she turned to leave, she paused, and as an after thought
said, “Maybe you can come and watch sometime.”
Something odd tingled in me at the thought of it, a secret
pleasure I’d not been aware of to that point in my life, all at the idea that I
might get to watch two men fucking her, a cuckhold, getting my kicks watching
them have her when she denied me.
I declined the offer.
“I feel like a cuck just thinking about it,” I said.
She smiled warmly and said, “But you’re such a sweet cuck.
You might like it if you tried.”
The problem was: I really wanted to see her being fucked, my
head filled with those images until I could hardly think of anything else.
I began to question my manhood. Did Bill or Jeff have something
I did not have, big cocks when mine was barely average. Did she think I could
not satisfy her with my almost six inches, when she take eight inches from
other men like them.
I got chills just thinking about Bill or Jeff shoving their
cocks into her pussy or ass.
“My offer to let you watch remains open,” she said “I would
really love to have you there.”
After that, each night I saw her leave with one or the
other, the chills in me got worse, and I kept thinking I was missing out.
Then, one night, she started to leave with both of them; my
imagination went wild. So did my hormones, the whole thing unfolding in my head
like a cheap porno movie.
She smiled at me from the door, and motioned for me to come
along.
“You want me to watch both of them?” I said, shocked.
“Yes,” she said.
“But two of them?”
“I always bring both of them to my place,” she said. “It
wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t.”
“And you want me there?”
“To watch,” she said, making me feel even more like a cuck,
and yet, I could not resist.
“Splendid,” she said and squeezed my hand, telling me to follow
behind her as she drove to her apartment.
It turned out to be a caravan, her in her car first,
followed by Bill or Jeff in their cars, and with me last, like an afterthought.
She lived on a hill, up from the rooming house where I
lived. When I finally parked, she, Jeff and Bill were already inside. I rang
the bell. She answered the door, having already changed into a red night gown.
She smiled and pulled me inside, lust oozing out of her, especially her eyes.
“We’re in here,” she said and led me to the living room,
where Jeff and Bill were seated on the couch. She pushed me into a stuffed
chair across from them, as I waited for her to take her place with them. I was
more than a little surprised when she took a seat in another stuffed armed
chair, motioning at Bill and Jeff to begin.
When they kissed each other, I nearly popped up out of my
chair, not a mild kiss, but one that was deeply passionate, tongues and all. It
didn’t stop there. They undressed each other in the midst of this intense kiss,
Jeff dragging off Bill’s pants, and Bill doing the same for Jeff, until both
men sat completely naked and with cocks standing at attention.
And what cocks!
Both of them were giants, maybe 10 inches each.
Jeff kissed his way down Bill’s torso, pausing to suck at
each breast, before reaching the erect mountain below. He lick’s Bill cock from
the balls to the tip, and then took it all into his mouth – gaging finally, before
Bill grabbed his ears and started to fuck Jeff’s face.
Beth rubbed herself between her legs watching the whole
thing transpire, her moans almost as loud as Bill’s, particularly interested
when Bill started to cum – Jeff swallowing every drop.
Beth looked at me.
“Feel free to join in,” she said, and the two on the couch
repositioned themselves, and Jeff mounted Bill from behind, doggy style.
Barely able to speak, I shook my head, “I don’t think so,” I
said, unable to look away from the love making.
Beth laughed.
“As I said, you’re not my type,” she said, though she did
give me a peck of a kiss on my cheek when I decided to leave. “Remember, you’re
always welcome.”
In the dream, she offered me a flower, and I refused. I was
confused, unable to distinguish lust for love, up to my nose in both, a flower
blooming in season, yet so much more, which I still adore, yet can barely bear,
not merely pretty, but complex, as I struggle to go on to whatever is next –
the fragrance swirling around in my head, in my bed, and I cannot stroke it away,
(and wonder if I’m secretly gay), needing to dress love up at something it is
not, disguising it with bows and ribbons until the flower is not a flower any
more, but something else, darker, more intense. We are always drawn back to it,
even when it became clear and is still clear, she had no use for me anymore, me
offering her flowers and candy she doesn’t want, yet in the dream, all is reversed,
and maybe that’s true, too, she offered, I refused, when I ought not to,
bearing all this on my shoulders, the blossom, my fingers bleeding from its
thorns, each time I try to touch where her bloom had been, finding only thorns,
too potent to grasp without bleeding myself dry
I live with the silence because I have no choice. All options
are off the table. There aren’t even breadcrumbs to follow any more, forcing me
to swallow my pride, even when I’m sometimes still lost in a fog, of my own
making.
The silence in some ways is comforting, after the shrill sounds
that once assailed me, no sharp sword hangs over my head.
I am left to guess what goes on, and if there is any logic
to any of it, life without seeing the big picture, just the pixels, like pieces
of a puzzle I can’t possible put together right.
Silence is all there is. I am deaf, dumb and blind, living in
isolation, accepting as my fate
