The Mammoth Book of International Erotica

by Maxim Jakubowski

  Kathy mumbles, eyes closed, she mumbles Christmas . . . family . . . always the same . . . my sister . . . but I love her . . . and my father . . . no matter what.

  Cynthia caresses both of Kathy’s legs and says you have nice limbs.

  Kathy goes ummmmn, thank you.

  Cynthia says they’re beautiful.

  Kathy says do you like?

  Cynthia says to me hey don’t you think she just has the sexiest legs?

  I say huh? oh yeah: sexy.

  My mind is still on the story.

  I say her legs have always turned me on.

  Cynthia says this is one thing that has always made an impression on me about you, Kathy: these legs. Lesjambes de vous if my French is correct. The shape; the muscles; the tan; wonderful, wonderful columns.

  Kathy says that feels good, your hands there; your hands are smooth.

  I say girl hands.

  Cynthia says I like touching you, I like the way you feel.

  Pause.

  I say I see the two of you making love, it’s very clear in my mind; I see you both undressed, on a bed; maybe Kathy’s bed. You are touching her, Cynthia, as you are touching her now, only more so, and it is obvious that you care a great deal for each other; you could be deep in love. You are both kissing, passionately necking, and holding onto one another. You make love in this room, which is dark, the only light comes from the screen of the word processor, the words&sentences of the text flashing on you, your naked bodies. I am sitting in a corner, sitting in a chair, smoking a slow smoke, and watch; I watch your sex, lighting one cig after another. I do not join, for this is something between the two of you. In fact, I am not invited; I only watch.

  Cynthia says I can see that, too; I can see it just as you describe; I can feel it; I can taste it. I want that, I want to make love . . . Kathy? Kathy . . . Kathy?

  I say Kathy?

  Cynthia says hey . . .

  I ask is she asleep?

  Cynthia says she’s asleep.

  I say she’s dreaming now.

  Cynthia says I have a story too and she looks at Kathy, still cuddling Kathy’s legs and she says well maybe she’ll hear in her sleep and have dreams about my story and she asks do you want to hear my story, Mike? I tell her that I do. Cynthia says I have been thinking of this story, this story of mine, and trying to figure out where it begins. Where it begins, I believe, is some years ago, three, no, four years ago, on my twenty-first birthday, I had just turned the big two one, the legal drinking age, the age I could get into bars. I didn’t know Kathy then, but I would soon, I would meet her at the school. I was going to college then, before I realized that I wasn’t made for academics and was doomed to the working world. But these girlfriends of mine, Nicole and n, they decided to take me out. They were already twenty-one. So they took me out to one of those places where exotic male dancers dance; you know, men with all those muscles and have all that oil on their hairless bodies and perfect tans and perfect teeth. I won’t get into the details other to say that I enjoyed myself; what woman would not? Wd been drinking, my friends&I, wd been drinking and smoking a few joints. I was pretty high, and when I came out of this bar where these good-looking men danced their dance, I was horny. I was really horny and mad that I didn’t have a boyfriend. I had a boyfriend not too long before that, and he was good in bed l admit, but he was a real jerk, a creep, and this is why I dumped him, I said later days to you, boy blue. Anyway, I was mad that my desire would go, on my twenty-first birthday, unquenched. Gretchen must have seen this on my face, she suggested maybe we could go to a bar I could pick up a hunk not unlike the hunks we had seen dancing and, in fact, maybe I coulve picked up one of the hunks who were hunk-dancing, and had some fun. (You see, it was announced in that club that it was my b-day and one came up and wiggled his naked ass at me and told me I could touch him, so I did, I reached into his g-string and felt his dick&balls but his dick, although warm, was limp because he was probably used to this all the time.) But I said no to Gretchen. I’m not, and never have been and nor will I ever be, the kind of girl who goes into a bar to pick up a dick. So – drunk, stoned, horny and alone, I went home. I was still living with my parents at the time. It was dark, everyone was asleep, and I went to bed. I got into my nightshirt, I went to bed and, well, masturbated. I had fantasies of those men. I fantasized ( almost ashamed to tell you this but I will) I fantasized that they were all in my room, a dozen or so of them, and they were all naked&hard, standing in a line, each one taking his licentious turn, a good twenty minutes or so from each, on me, in me, just the sort of naughty birthday present that only exists in your subversive head-thoughts, and so thas how I satisfied myself, finger to clit, dreaming of being gang-banged by a bunch of muscle-bound men I did not know, unknown faces&cocks in the dark. I mention this episode because where it really started – you could call my night out with the girls the prologue to this tale – was the next morning, which was Sunday morning. I woke up and looked out my bedroom window and saw, in the backyard, a beautiful boy. My bedroom window looked onto the backyard and this young boy, wearing cut-off shorts only, was mowing the lawn. I know who it was: Daniel, the boy next-door. I used to baby-sit him, when he was just a kid. But looking at him, I saw that he was a kid no longer; no, this boy was no boy but on the edge of being a man. Perhaps he had been lifting weights, as boys his age start to, for he had the beginnings of a fine definition on his chest, stomach, and arms; but certainly not as much, as abundant, as those exotic dancers the night prior. He had a nice tan, too, and I remembered that Daniel made his spending money by mowing&tending lawns around the neighborhood. My fathes health was poor, and I don’t have brothers, so we hired Daniel to mow&tend the back&front yards each week. Paid like fifteen bucks, I think. I had seen him before, many times, but why was I now seeing him in this light? – I mean, why was I checking him out like meat? He was only thirteen. Yes, thirteen. I remembered what I was like at thirteen, the sexual feelings I had. I didt lose my virginity until I was fifteen but the first time I had given a boy head, I was twelve. He was fourteen, a freshman in high school, the brother of this girl I knew. He had long hair, listened to Led Zeppelin all the time. He introduced me to pot and oral sex. The first time scared me and I hated it when he came in my mouth. But after a while, I began to enjoy this, especially when he did it back to me and it made me shudder. Why didt we fuck if this went on for so long? I would have let him if he wanted to, but he never wanted to. All he was interested in was oral. This lasted until I was thirteen. He got into trouble and went into juvenile hall and I never heard from him. It was a while before I had another boyfriend. Anyway, I was looking at Daniel and realized, too, he was no kid anymore, not that bratty kid I used to baby-sit. I thought this absurd, me being twenty-one now and giving the eye-ball to a fricken thirteen-year-old. I knew this must have been the remains of the night, those feelings, so, lying in bed, watching Daniel mow the yard, I masturbated again, hoping to get it out of my system. I didt think about him again, not until I saw him – it was about a week and a half later, maybe two, and I was driving home from college, at the time thinking I should quit because it wasn’t for me – and I saw him walking home from school, the junior high nearby. He was with some buddies and they all had their shirts off with slight muscles and dammit if I didt think they all looked just good. I thought there was something wrong with me, I thought I was a pervert. I shocked myself even more when I stopped the car, which was my VW bug at the time, and called out to him. Daniel! I said, Daniel, you want a ride home? Is me, your neighbor, Cynthia, I used to baby-sit you, we live next-door to each other, do you want a ride home? His buddies all made sounds and punched him in the arm and I could tell they were pushing him to go, take the ride, look at that older girl! I should have driven away. I looked at myself: I was wearing a sundress with a ribbon in my hair. The dress was cut low, showed a lot of skin. Did Daniel take my offer? Yes. Slowly, embarrassed – his face was red – he came over to the car. I asked him if he wanted
a ride home, or was he doing something with his friends? Daniel said well is not that long of a walk. I said it is, it’s almost a mile. Daniel looked back at his friends; they were all watching, and I knew, as he knew, that he had to, just to impress his buddies. So he got in and his buddies all said all right! Way to go Dan! and I acted like I didt hear them and so did he, and we started to go and Daniel said those guys. I told him I was sorry if I embarrassed him and he said it was nothing. He still had his shirt off, and closer now I could admire what his body was turning into; I saw a small line of hair from the bottom of his navel disappearing into his jeans. He saw me looking, blushed, and moved to put his shirt on. I told him not to, I grabbed his arm and said no. I felt a rush of heat from him. What was I doing?! This poor kid. Was I crazy? I musve been, because I was feeling turned on. Id been some months since had any sex and I was . . . crazy, nuts, I guess. I asked do you remember when I was your baby-sitter, Daniel? He said sure. Now that I think of it, I baby-sat him when I was with my oral sex boyfriend. This is what gave me the dirty idea. I told Daniel not to be afraid and he said I’m not. I drove to a remote area, where they were building new houses. No people around. I parked the VW. I turned to him. I was rubbing my leg like rubbing Kathy’s, and he saw my dress go up. I noticed something in his jeans: he was getting hard in there, an erection was pleading to burst. I could tell he was nervous; he was fidgety. I told him not to be. He said what are we going to do? I said what do you want to do? He didt know. I told him, my own face flushing. I didt know why I was going to do what I was about to do but for him not to get the wrong idea. I didt know what the hell I was saying but he said okay. So I got my head into his lap. He was tense to say the least. I told him to relax. He said okay but he didn’t. I unbuttoned&unzipped his jeans. He was wearing white underwear, the kind boys his age wear. I pulled his jeans and underwear down and his cock sprang out. Like that – boing boing, bouncy-bounce; all red with heat coming off it. Wast a big cock; thin like a thin hot dog; would probably get bigger as he got older. I took him in my mouth and not five seconds later he came! He came so much I couldt swallow it all. It spurt, like a bottle with pressure, a good five or six times. Come rolling down his dick and all over his little balls. I have to admit I was quite shocked; I mean, with that one boyfriend I had, and other boyfriends too, there was never so much; but they were all older, of course. He was only thirteen, you know, and he probably had so much building inside him. Another thing that surprised me was how sweet he tasted. Come is always a little bitter for me, always salty; but his was kinda sweet, and I wanted more. I licked it off his balls. He was still hard, so I sucked him some more. This time it took a minute or two for him to come again. I sat up, wiping semen off my lips, and looked at him. He still smiled (still embarrassed) and asked what he should do. I didn’t say anything. He reached to touch one of my breasts, but he didn’t have any idea what to do with it. I looked out the car window, wondered if I was a dirty old lady. Me, twenty-one, corrupting this kid. But when I looked at him, I thought what a fine, handsome kid he was, and I felt turned on all the more. His dick was getting hard again, can you believe it? So back down I go; his thing still wet with saliva and come. This time he ran his hands through my hair, relaxing, getting into the flow of things. The ribbon unraveled. I didn’t take him out of my mouth after his third ejaculation, kept it there, sucking my merry way to hell. His dick was limp only for a short while. I had his little thing and his balls in my mouth. I knew, since he was so excitable&young, that he could achieve a fourth hard-on soon. In no time, he did. Now, this time, it took him like fifteen or so minutes to come, and there was very little, but still sweet, and when he was done I told myself that’s it, I’d just blown him four times and my jaw hurt. One of my tits was sticking out of the dress; I pushed it back in, sweaty. Daniel pulled his pants up, like he knew that was that, like he knew maybe he couldn’t get it up again. I saw my reflection in the rear-view: my make-up was smeared, my hair was a mess, come on my chin. What must this boy be thinking? I drove us home. We didn’t talk. He put his shirt on. Before he got out, he tried to kiss me; I turned my head; he pecked me on the cheek. I watched him go to his house, looking at his butt and thinking he had a nice butt and wondering what. . . I went in, no one was home, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, then took a bath, not unlike the bubble bath I just had with your help. Thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. Who was I to do such a thing? But I thought, I gave him something he’ll never forget in his life, thinking of the first time my first boyfriend went down on me when I was twelve, making me come several times like I had done with Daniel, eating me out for an hour, and the wonderful memory, albeit decadent, I had/have of that time. Pondering on what I had given to this boy, I became excited, and in that bath I fingered myself, pleased myself, knowing it was not, and never had been, enough, knowing that I may go even further in this new chapter of events. What did I do? you ask. I did go further. But not so soon, because there were other things going on. Well, yes, I did seduce the kid again; he came over, when he knew I was alone in the house, and I did do to him what I did in the VW, splendor in the bug, and I could see it, I could see what he wanted: he really wanted to lose his virginity. That’s what he told me; he said he wanted to pop his cherry and I had to laugh, it sounded so funny coming from his mouth, that sweet mouth. So we did it. What other way is there to say it? I took him to my bed and we got undressed. He was so – eager, and didn’t know what to do; I thought this was sweet. This went on for a while. Not all the time. I had college, he had school, but the closer summer came, the more we got together. He seemed to mature, sprout, with each passing day (now doesn’t that sound like a cliche?). He had a slight mustache now. I was impressed with him and impressed with myself because by that time he’d become quite a good lover; he didn’t come so fast, and I’d taught him how to, well, uh, eat. He started sending me love letters then, in the mail or leaving them at my door. He was in love, I guess. This is when I started to get nervous. Hey, I was just doing this for fun, okay, you know, teaching a boy how to be a lover and having some fun in the process. I didn’t want this to happen but I guess I should’ve known it might. But that’s not the worst, no, the worst is the morning I was going to my car, I was on my way to a class, some dumb-ass class I didn’t want to go to but I had to, and I was a little hungover because I had been out drinking with Nicole&-Gretchen again, when I heard someone call my name, a woman calling my name, she says CYNTHIA I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU! It’s Daniel’s mother, a woman in her forties, she’s in a robe, hair in curlers, and she has this notebook in hand. She’s stomping my way, she looks furious, and she’s waving the notook like an evil wand and she says I WANT TO TALK TO YOU YOUNG LADY and I see the notebook has Daniel’s writing in it, and I’m thinking oh shit and she says I’VE BEEN READING SOME OF DANIEL’S WRITINGS and I’VE BEEN READING ABOUT YOU! I didn’t know what the hell to say so I say should you really be prying into your son’s private stuff? and she goes HE’S MY SON AND I CAN DO WHAT I DAMN WELL PLEASE and this is when she tells me that she knows what I have been doing, she says YOU’RE A DIRTY GIRL and that I should have shame. I’m just standing there, frozen; I don’t deny anything, but I don’t admit nothing as well. She says to me IS IT TRUE?!? She says OR IS HE JUST MAKING IT UP? I tell her it’s none of her business but I guess I could have lied, said, Oh, he just has boyhood fantasies. So she says YOU BETTER STAY AWAY FROM MY SON YOU LITTLE TRAMP AND YOU’RE LUCKY I DON’T TELL YOUR PARENTS ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN DOING I COULD EVEN HAVE YOU ARRESTED FOR MOLESTATION! I wanted to tell her he was hardly a kid anymore, but the law might say otherwise. Oh, Jesus could you see it, me arrested?!? I got into my car and left. I knew it was over and part of me felt relieved that it was. Daniel wrote me a few more letters, saying he was sorry that his mother found the notebook. I ignored him. His mother sent him away for the summer and that was probably just as well. It was. When he came back, he didn’t seem to have any interest in me. Maybe he met another girl. But that isn�
�t the end of this story. The real end is this: not too long after the encounter with his mother, while Daniel was away that summer, I had another going-out-to-my-car encounter. From out of the bushes this boy emerges, a boy Daniel’s age, and he just gets into my VW with me, no asking, no words, he just does it. I recognise him as one of the boys I had seen Daniel hanging around with. He smiles and says hi, says his name although I can’t remember it now. I asked him what he wanted. He says to me I know what you’ve been giving Danny and I want some of it. I act like I don’t know what the heck he’s talking about. He laughs and tells me Daniel has been telling them (his friends) all about it, about us, what I do, and I believed it, you know how boys are: they always have to brag about their conquests; I was the same, actually, and still am: always telling my sexy stories to girlfriends, when I have sexy stories to share. So this bold kid says to me I want some, I want what you give him. I tell him to get the fuck out. He reaches over, grabs my hair, he says give it to me bitch my dad always says you gotta get rough when the bitches try to nigger out on what they’re born to give and my did it hurt, the way he had my hair, so I screamed and punched him in the nose. He wasn’t expecting that, I tell you! His nose begins to bleed. He puts a hand to it, looks at all the blood. He starts to cry. I say get out or I’ll hit you again you brat! and he runs out. It was after that I changed, this is when I knew I had to change: I had to readjust to a violent world.

  I tell Cynthia I have a story similar to that, that I had an experience, at twenty-two, with a thirteen-year-old girl. I ask Cynthia if she wants to hear my story and she says yes, I want to hear it. We both look at Kathy, who still sleeps, legs on Cynthia’s lap, Cynthia still rubbing them, and Cynthia says so what’s your story? I say if I were ever to write this experience down, I would title it –