I knew I was in foreign territory now, a million miles from my “home”—my beliefs and upbringing. Yet, this foreign land was intriguing, and beautiful, and sensual.
I was beginning to like it here.
After she oiled it, she lay down on her back, and opened herself to me. A beautiful woman was lying in front of me with her legs open. I saw her sparkling eyes, her white porcelain skin, her soft breasts, her smooth legs…and her open sex. I took hold of the dildo, and stroked it a couple times. I looked at her, and I felt like I was a man coming to give her my manhood.
I lay down on top of her, and our mouths met. She reached between us and guided it inside of her. I slowly pushed it into her, keeping in mind to be gentle. I felt her slowly accepting it…letting it move inside her and open her. She gasped a couple times, and grunted as it moved deeper into her. I understood that internal pressure and how exciting yet scary it could be. I also knew she was taking it and enjoying it.
And then I was all the way in. The soft rubber balls were against her. And me. I wondered if this was how a man felt, being deep into a woman. If only this dildo could transfer the feeling to me the way a penis would to a man. All these thoughts raced through me as I lay on top of her, giving her my rubber sex.
I began to move my hips into her. She moved in rhythm with me. We found an instinctive rhythm to our strokes. She kissed me passionately, and I kissed her back. I kissed her hard. I raised up on one elbow, and squeezed her breast. I was inside her and having her body. I was taking her.
I pushed up on both hands, and saw her beautiful body beneath me. I began to thrust harder into her. She accepted these thrusts, and began to push back against me. Our eyes met, and she smiled at me.
“Yeah, honey, fuck me with your dick. It feels so good.” Her words were hungry.
I don’t know why, but that turned me on even more. Maybe I felt like a man at that moment. I was giving her my cock and she was taking it. And I was loving the feeling of giving it to her. I could feel her getting wetter and looser. The more I pushed it into her, the more she was accepting of it.
And she was so beautiful. Soft, smooth skin. Shiny, beautiful eyes. Long hair spread around her. I was seeing her how her husband, Mark, saw her. How David had seen her. She was the woman, and I was the man pushing myself into her. And she spoke more.
“Oh honey, you fuck me so good. Fuck me with that hard dick. I love it.”
And I couldn’t help myself. I growled back at her. “You want this cock, baby? You want it hard?”
“Yeah, honey, give it to me hard. Fuck me with it.”
And I did. I began to push as hard as I could. Now, we women aren’t built like men…it took everything I had to thrust forward with my hips the way a man would. But I did. I kept my legs together and used my body weight to drive it all the way in, with as much anger and aggression as I could. She hooked her heels against the back of my thighs and pulled me in with all she had. She was pushing back as hard as I was pushing.
“That’s it, honey. Fuck me. Oh God…Oh God, I’m going to come!”
And then she did. I felt her push against me one final time and then she shouted out a loud, mewling cry. Her nails dug into my arms. Her feet kicked against my thighs. She was thrashing below me. The more she thrashed, the harder I pushed into her. Her eyes were slammed shut and she was crying out. I swung my hips into her as roughly as I could manage. It felt animalistic. It felt aggressive.
When her cries became softer, I shortened my movements and softened my strokes. I moved very slowly in and out of her. She finally looked up at me and smiled. Her eyes were shiny.
“That was great, honey. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Do you want more?”
“Can you give me more?” she asked.
“Yeah, but this position is making my arms tired.” While some women have the shoulder strength, I didn’t. My arms were already burning.
“Okay, let me turn over.”
I pulled out, and she rolled over onto her hands and knees. I moved up to her. She opened herself and I slid in. She was loosened up and ready, and I was slick from her.
I began to move in and out of her again. This position was much easier on my arms, but harder on my hips. She helped by pushing back against me. She was very wet and open, and I could see her eyes already get a distant look. I knew it wouldn’t take long. She was already talking dirty to me, which excited us both.
“Yeah, fuck my pussy with your big cock, honey. It feels so good when you’re in me. I want you to fuck me all the time.”
“You love fucking my cock? You like when I’m in you?” I growled, using the deepest voice I could. I wanted to be a man for her.
“Oh yeah, honey. You make my pussy so wet. Keep fucking me, honey. Keep fucking me.”
And I did. I kept swinging my hips into her. Though my back and legs were cramping from this exertion, I was so excited I just kept going. I realized how hard it was to be in the man’s position, but I also loved it. Dominance. Power. Strength. I loved giving it to her. I loved taking her to the edge of pain and pleasure. I loved being in the man’s role. Being a man. My hard dick was slamming inside her. I could feel her softness break under my strength.
As she pushed against me, I took hold of her hips and began to drive even harder into her. I pulled her weight against me, and felt the slapping of her butt against my body. I was picking up power, speed, and technique. I knew I had her. I knew she was mine. I knew she would come again, and that knowledge and power made me incredibly excited.
As I felt her nearing her orgasm, I stuck my thumb in my mouth, and then stuck it into her open anus.
“Oh God, yeah!” she shrieked. Fuck that asshole with your thumb, honey. Fuck it.”
I drove my thumb into her. I drove my cock into her. I was giving her all I had.
And then she buried her face in the pillow and shrieked. I felt her jerking and twitching. She was thrashing and shrieking and crying. Her screams into the pillow were loud and angry. She was shouting as if she were trying to scream to someone miles away. Even in the pillow, her voice was loud.
And then she slowed her motions. Relaxed. I matched her pace. I let her enjoy the last trembling shudders of her climax. I loved that I had just done that to her. I felt so powerful…so strong.
She collapsed forward onto the bed. I looked down at the soaking wet dildo between my legs. She looked up at me and smiled. I lay down next to her, both of us panting, eyes to the ceiling.
“That was incredible, Rachel. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” We were both out of breath.
“You took me like a man…you’re very good at it.”
“Thanks. It felt good.”
“I know what you mean. It’s fun to play the boy sometimes.”
“You like it too?”
“Sure. I’m still a woman and like to have it done to me, but it’s fun once in a while to switch it up.”
I didn’t tell her how much I enjoyed playing the dominant role. Perhaps as much as playing the feminine role—in some ways more. I was still wrestling with my own feelings.
“Honey, can I give that to you?”
“I’m really tired. Can we rest a while?”
“Yeah…we have as much time as you need.”
She slid into my arms. I didn’t even take off the dildo. She nuzzled her head onto my shoulder, and I smelled her perfume, her hair, and our sex. She gently drifted off to sleep in my arms, and I followed her soon after.
23
“What happened when you woke up?” His breathing was heavy. He felt so full in my hands. He was dripping a large amount of fluid, which I was using to wet his swollen gland.
“I woke up when she started sucking my breasts. She had a finger inside me already.”
“Did you like that feeling?”
“Oh yes, I loved it so much. I was dripping wet already.”
“Then what did she do?” His eyes were slammed shut, as if he were picturing
everything in his mind.
“She went down on me. I didn’t think I could come again, because I had come so much already, but I did.” David’s breathing was more rapid now. His balls were already beginning to lift up. “Then she kissed me, and I tasted my juice on her mouth. I was so turned on I needed to come again.”
“Did she make you come again?”
“She put on the strap-on, and then she started fucking me with it. Oh, it felt so good inside me.”
“Did that make you come, Rachel?”
“Not yet. I pushed her on her back, and I climbed on top. I rode her, and made myself come on top of her. She looked so beautiful underneath me. She looked me in the eyes, and squeezed my breasts while I was getting close.”
“After that, what happened?”
“After I came, she told me she loved me, and we kissed forever. I told her I loved her too.” Just then, his penis began jerking in my hand, and I could tell he was going to come. I lowered my face to him, and took him in my mouth. I got there just in time for his burning hot seed. There was so much! I swallowed some, but the rest slid out of my mouth and down his heavy shaft. I pulled on him, trying to prolong his orgasm. I gently squeezed his balls, which continued to twitch for a while.
He slid back down to the pillow, lost in his buzzing orgasm. I lay down next to him, and put my head on his shoulder. I continued to stroke him softly.
“That was incredible, Rachel. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed it.”
“Did you guys do it more?”
“No, I was too tired after. We fell back asleep again…just for a little while. Then we got up and had dinner at the Plaza restaurant. Then we sat up talking until late.”
“About what?”
“Girl stuff.”
“Girl stuff?”
“Yes, girl stuff. None of your business, Mr. Nosy. We drank wine and talked and watched a little TV.” I didn’t tell him that we sat up all night talking about our men. About the life. About our pasts and our futures. I didn’t tell him that she held me when I cried about missing my mother. Keiko was many things to me that night. Lover. Wife. Psychiatrist. Friend.
“Then what?”
“I think I nodded off around two a.m., and she must’ve slept a bit after.”
“Did you sleep in the same bed?”
“Yes.”
“All night?”
“Yes. When we woke up yesterday, I was tired and sore, but refreshed.”
“Did you make love again?”
“No, we ordered room service, and ate in the room. Then I showered and took the subway home to see Dad.” I didn’t tell him that Keiko scolded me for not seeing enough of my father, whom I hadn’t seen much of since I started dating David. I didn’t tell him that Keiko told me that my responsibility as his daughter was to make sure Dad was doing better. We had talked all night about our families and our fears, and Keiko’s sage counsel woke me up to what I hadn’t been doing in my life, because I had been so focused on David.
I had gone home, and found my dad feeling sad and lonely. The house was filthy. He hadn’t been taking good care of himself. I cleaned. Washed the dishes. Bought some food at the market, and made him dinner.
But yet the next night here I was with David. I couldn’t stay away from him long. I did promise to see Dad more often, now that I was living with David, more or less. I mean, we weren’t technically living together…but I spent most nights of the week there.
I cleaned David off with a wet towel, and he was drifting off to sleep, likely dreaming about what Keiko and I had done. I cleaned up and lay down next to him, but I didn’t sleep. I thought about my conversations with her.
We had sat up late, talking and drinking. Part of the conversation had me perplexed, and I couldn’t shake it from my mind.
At one point, I had asked her, “What types of things have you seen since you’ve been in the life?”
“I’ve seen it all. There probably is little I haven’t done, though I’m not a big fan of BDSM, as I told you…”
“Like, you’ve seen Mark with other women? With other men?”
“Yeah, many times.”
“How did you feel about him with other men?”
“Yeah, it’s a bit strange at first…I think as women we think of men differently, and perhaps naturally can’t picture them having sex with other men.”
“I felt so strange when I saw David kissing Mark that night. Even though we had all just had sex together, it felt so weird seeing two men kiss. I didn’t feel the same when you and I kissed. Is that wrong?”
“Well, I guess it’s our societal roles, you know? Why should we feel different about two men kissing than two women? Yet it did strike me as odd when I first saw it. You’ll get used to it, honey.”
“You’re used to it now?”
“Oh sure. I’ve seen Mark have sex with several men.”
“Several?”
“Yeah. I mean, I guess he’s like me…he likes just about everything. He has done all the same kinds of things I have done.”
“Has he ever met men for sex in the afternoon, like we did today?”
“Sure. Many times. Even with David.”
“Really?” I had been afraid of her telling me something like this.
“Yeah…they met at a swing club. David had sex with Mark before I did, though other people were involved.” Sadly, I felt ill hearing this.
“But how did you feel about him afterward?”
“Well, I think it took two or three times to get over it. I was less bothered by him having sex with other women than with men, but after seeing it enough I got used to it. You will too.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to see David have sex with other men. It seems so unnatural to me still.”
“You can’t think that way, honey,” she scolded. “Why would you put anything on him that you wouldn’t want others to think of you? Why should that be any different than what we did here today? If you feel that way, it’s a prejudice you should get rid of.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Those were my words, but I had a lot of socialization to overcome.
“Of course I’m right. If you would judge David, then you should expect him to judge you in return.”
“That’s true, I know…it’s just…”
“Tell you what…when we get back, let’s break you of this feeling…this bias. Let’s get Mark and David together. Making them do this in front of you will help you get over it. You’ll see that it’s no different. You’ll get over it faster so you don’t get surprised in a club or somewhere like that. Better to break that train of thought now.”
“Okay,” I had said, but honestly I was having a hard time picturing the two of them together sexually. I knew she was right…I knew it was a prejudice in me. I knew I had no right to judge either of them. Yet, it had felt so strange, I just didn’t know what it would do to our relationship. Seeing David with Mark could change everything.
David was sleeping next to me, and I couldn’t stop struggling with the idea of the man I loved being intimate with another man. I was to watch the prejudice end soon enough.
24
Two days later, I met with Stella Metz in Midtown. I was shown into her office, which had a great view of Times Square. She sat in her large chair, leaning backward, fingers on her chin. Her gunmetal hair was pulled up and tight.
“I think I need just a couple of more works from you, Rachel,” she said, getting right to the point. “Your poems are powerful, and I think they’ll do well. Still, they seem a bit locked into politics and civil rights. While I know that’s your intention, I think you should try to appeal to a bit broader of an audience.”
“How so?” I looked around the room and saw the signed covers that lined her walls. She had so many that there were several stacked, leaning against the wall, waiting to replace older covers.
“Well, I would love to see a few love poems in your collection.”
“Oh, I
’ve never been able to write about love, Stella. It’s just not me. When I write, I feel my passion burning toward what’s going on in the world. The injustice. The pain and suffering. Poverty and inequality. It’s our national zeitgeist…and I’m just expressing it, you know?”
“I get that, and that’s the part of your work I’ve fallen in love with. Still, I want you to spend just a couple of weeks thinking about love. Consider it. Let your heart explore it, if only a little bit. You might find something inside you, something that yearns to be told. We are women, after all…love comes naturally to us.” She sounded like a school principal lecturing a girl caught sneaking a cigarette in the parking lot.
“Yeah.”
“Love is always in our hearts. Love is all around us. Look at it, and see what comes to you.” If only she knew what was going on with my love life at that moment! I don’t imagine she would’ve wanted to hear about love from me any longer.
“Okay, I’ll try, Stella.”
“Excellent. So, I didn’t just bring you here to lecture you on your work. I have good news.” She opened a small leather purse and produced a long, black cigarette. She lit it from an ornamental lighter on her desk.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You’ll be so happy to hear that I already have a publisher who is interested in your work.” Did she just say…? “Random House has a poetry imprint coming out. They’re calling it Leaves of Grass, after Whitman. They are looking for ‘charged’ poems…poems with energy and anger…poems that strive for change.”
“Oh my goodness!” I felt hot tears in my eyes.
“They have chosen George Hammitt as the editor, and George and I are old friends from our time with Doubleday. I sent him a few of your poems and he loves them.” She had a satisfied look on her face. She flicked ashes into the round crystal ashtray, which sat atop a stack of manuscripts.
Follow You Down (Farfalla Book 1) Page 18