Take Me There

by Tristan Taormino

  Amanda lives on display, especially when she leaves the house. She tries not to think about anything that isn’t ten feet around her. It’s easy for her to numb herself and dress in bright colors when she’s already a target. Derrick isn’t doing anything special.

  Eventually he relents. “You be good or I’ll know,” he says and hangs up.

  Amanda grabs the mail and wanders into the house she rents with a half-dozen other queers. It would be nice if the house could fly, as long as the garage comes with it. That’s where she keeps her bike.

  Later in the evening, Naoto parks his uncle’s hand-me-down VW Rabbit nearby. He calls it “The Zombie” after the ring of rust that has eaten the underside of the car’s chassis. He has a bike too, but it’s not safe to bike at night from this house in this neighborhood.

  The odds were against him ever meeting Amanda. His uncle runs a pawnshop in the next town, where Naoto lives since his mom kicked him out. One evening, a kid came over with a half-dozen laptops to sell. Naoto’s uncle had him keep the kid still while phoning the cops. Amanda came over the next day to reclaim the laptops. The kid had been one of her roommates. Naoto complimented her on the raccoon-girls and badger-girls she had drawn over her own laptop. Amanda said they could always use another player for game night.

  Of course, he needed a warm place to stay after game night ended, since he’d biked over that first time. Her pointed elbows bruised him and she left bites deep enough to last into the next month. It was the best night he’d had in a long time.

  Naoto lets himself in the house and waves to the bodies on the couch. He knocks on Amanda’s door but she doesn’t respond. He calls her on her cell phone. She realizes where he is after she takes off her headphones.

  “Hey,” she says between heavy breaths as she pounces on his lips. She squeezes his butt to flatter him and drag him out of view from her roommates. She slams her door shut. They kiss until it’s silly.

  “Just a second,” she interrupts. She darts to her laptop to save the story she was working on and close her chat windows.

  Naoto strips off his clothes and flops naked on her bed. He doesn’t have the option of going naked all the time but he wouldn’t decline it. The fan on her nightstand cools his hair.

  “How was your day?” he says.

  “Derrick called me,” she says.

  He sits up. “Really?”

  “It’s no big deal,” she says. “He doesn’t have the bus fare to come all the way down here.”

  “Well, hon, you should at least file a report. If anything happens to you, they’ll know who to look for.”

  She isn’t looking at him. “No, I’ll tell them anyways if it comes to that.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah,” she says and presents her laptop to him. “I wrote this today for Telianna. Tell me what you think.”

  He lets it go. She thinks ten feet around her and that’s the only way she’ll survive.

  While he glances at the laptop screen, she slips her dress over her head the way water nymphs shed their modesty before diving into a lake. She is proud of her hairless skin, ten years younger than it was before she started estrogen. Naoto would have her body if he could. His own skin is peppered with dark Italian hair, which regrows faster than a hydra’s heads. It’s better to ignore. He admires her instead and closes her laptop.

  “Do you mind, hon? I’m not really in the mood to read this,” he says. “Someone brought in a box of porn DVDs and my uncle spent all day watching them to make sure they worked.”

  “Anything good?”

  “Did I bring any of them with me?” he says. “Argh, most of them were these bad transfers from VHS with eighties floof hair and sitcom sets.”

  Amanda wraps one leg across his hips and sits on him. Her smooth shaved ass straddles his cock. She leans over to rub his shoulders; not too deep though, with his muscles as tight as they are.

  Her own cock flops on his belly as a curious prehensile tail installed on the wrong side.

  “So, did he have his pants down all day?” she says. “You should have pulled the fire alarm on him.”

  Naoto looks up to her predatory smile, creepy as a wolf that hasn’t decided whether to kill him yet. “No, that was the freakiest part,” he says. “He had his pants on the whole time. He only got up to turn down the volume during the gang rape scenes.”

  “Ooo,” she says and hunches over him. Her nipples graze him while his cock bounces against her. “You know what? I should burn a bunch of DVDs of the dyke porn I have on my hard drive. Then you can swap them with your uncle’s collection. So someone will buy one from him, thinking they’re getting gang rape but instead it’s a bunch of lovely lovely dykes fucking the body paint off each other.”

  Naoto glowers at her. Her nose is within reach and he bites it. She squeals.

  “It’th tempting,” he says while he squeezes his teeth against her cartilage. “But I like having a job.”

  She wriggles on his hips. He grabs her hands so she can’t squirm free. “You’re being mean,” she says.

  “You’re being delicious,” he says. He licks her through his teeth.

  She struggles and forces one of her hands into his long-curled hippy hair. She pulls hard, balling it in her fist. He shakes as he keeps her other hand from going for his head as well. After one good pinch on her side, she collapses on his chest. Their entwined arms smack the fan on her nightstand, which knocks the lamp on the floor. The bulb fizzles out, leaving them in darkness.

  “Fuck,” she says. “We let go of each other together. Ready?”

  “Why?” he says, still gripping her nose.

  She rocks back and forth, trying to wriggle her nose free. He can feel her grimacing every time she sways her hips. “If you’re trying to keep your nose, this isn’t the way to do it,” he says.

  She releases his hair and goes limp. “I surrender,” she says. “You may do with me as you will.”

  He strokes her back, drawing curlicues down her spine. “Okay,” he says, “Tabby and Maybelle are having a fight again about a journal entry Tabby made that outed Maybelle. Terril-lip’s cranky about having to live with his mom for three years now. Califlora is mad because she didn’t have any ecstasy when Ballyhoo came to town so they didn’t hit it off. I’m tired of giving them all advice. You do it.”

  Amanda licks his chin with a viper’s flick. He softens and releases her sore nose so he can bite her tongue and suck it into his mouth. It’s rough on the edges where she chews it. His lips stroke hers and he passes his own tongue to her. Her teeth are sharp. They never came in right. They bite so much nicer than his.

  She rests her forehead against his, stroking down his neck. “I thought Maybelle was already out,” she says.

  “Not in that community,” he says. “For crying out loud, it’s why I like you, hon. You never ask me for relationship advice.”

  She purrs and kisses him slow, down his cheek and neck while mixing little nibbles in between. His firm, tired hands reach under her to knead her breasts. He rolls his fingers to hear her gasp.

  “Though you know,” he says, “there are times when I wish you would ask me.”

  The salt of his skin has a lovely taste and his cock is pressing happily into her. If only he could keep his thoughts to himself.

  “Look, I know what I’m doing,” she says. “Derrick got his jollies off by calling me. As long as I don’t block his number or anything, I’ll be okay.”

  “Okay. I just worry.”

  “I know.”

  Amanda is getting better at making him unintelligible. She extends her tongue as a record needle and plays his chest hair all the way down to his cock. She nuzzles around the base so slowly, stoking its heat with her breath. She licks small strokes, lapping his workday sweat and musk. He’s dirty, broken, like her. She maps the rigid veins that collapse under a little pressure and the smooth top of his cock, soft as sealskin. She bats the tip with her nose before diving over it, sucking it a
s if it was the sweetest sourball ever.

  Her box of gloves and lube tubes fell between the bed and the wall months ago, and remained there due to convenience. Her lips and tongue slide up and down his shaft while her hand grasps for a glove and bottle. She lifts herself up long enough to slip on the glove and slather it with the room-temperature lube. Two of her fingers wake the fleshy tips of his anus, which relax and part for her. He purrs and pants as she plunges onto his cock again. But she’s going too slow. The edges of his anus, pressed together for too long, are open, free, radiating pleasure the more she strokes them like a bow on a violin. He lifts his hips up to speed the touch his ass craves. She gets the message. She speeds her rhythm until he begins to lose control of his legs.

  Naoto grasps at his own nipples, wishing his chest were as prominent and sensitive as Amanda’s. If only his body were as accessible and pliable as hers in public, so that desirable strangers would want to touch him as they wanted her. His body shakes as some reptile thing inside him is stirred. His cock is him. His anus is him. But his hips, his belly and the absence on his chest are not him. If only he could move the pleasure welling up his shaft to deep inside him. Then the pleasure would spill all around his legs and chest instead of emptying into the air inside Amanda’s mouth.

  He grasps the mattress as his body convulses. “Stop hon,” he says. “Please, not yet.”

  She withdraws her fingers and sits up in an instant. He thinks about his uncle in front of the DVDs and holds himself together until the urge to cum subsides.

  “Too much?” she says.

  “No, perfect.”

  She ties her glove inside out and tosses it in the approximate direction of the trash can. She listens to the moans of a job well done. Then she remembers.

  “I still need you to read that story I wrote for Telianna sometime,” she says. “I got the check from the last story I wrote him today. One more like that and I can get that latex catsuit from Canada.”

  He reaches up to cup her hips in his hands. “You suck,” he says.

  She smiles. “Very well. I picked up a long coat from Goodwill last week. I was thinking I could wear my catsuit outside under it.”

  He strokes her softly, which tickles her. “You would wear a hundreds of dollars catsuit outside in this weather with the sort of neighbors you have?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He pinches her until she squeals at the pitch he’s listening for. “Darlin’, I’m not questioning your intelligence. Just your sanity.”

  “Ow. My what?” she says.

  “Exactly.”

  He waits while she basks in her own silliness, repeating the conversation in her head. While she is distracted, he thrusts himself up, grabs her and pulls her on top of him.

  She bats at his face. “Eeep! Let me go.”

  He drops his arms and lies still. “Okay.”

  She snorts. “Fine, you can ravage me.”

  “Really?”

  “Well,” she draws out. “Unless you would prefer Miss Cobra to ravage you.”

  Miss Cobra is a green snake dildo who lives on a shelf over Amanda’s bed. Miss Cobra has her own supply of condoms that come in all the colors of a free clinic grab bag. There is only one fluorescent pink left but Amanda is willing to risk using it for the chance to wield Miss Cobra.

  “I wouldn’t mind a visit from her,” Naoto says.

  Amanda strokes his cheeks and rubs her face over his. “Miss Cobra will expect you to be extra good,” she says. “Miss Cobra will expect you to cum extra hard.”

  He runs his fingers over the rim where her hair meets her scalp, following it back down her spine. “I don’t care what Miss Cobra wants,” he says. “As long as she gives the Nebula-winning performance she always does.”

  They kiss again. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says.

  She rises over him using only her calf muscles and sways in the warm Southern air. She rattles the harness off her shelf so he can hear it jingle. She imagines this will instill some Pavlovian response in him eventually, if they don’t break up first.

  “I’d like you on your knees,” she says.

  “Not tonight. They’ve been acting up.”

  She rubs the leather straps against each other as she loops and tightens them around her leg. “Well, I can pretend,” she says.

  “That’s fine,” he says. “I appreciate whatever she wants to do to me.”

  Another snap and Miss Cobra is ready for her close-up. In the darkness over Naoto, a condom pouch rips and a new bottle of lube has its cherry popped.

  Amanda shakes her hips to make sure that Miss Cobra is well secured to her.

  “Miss Cobra will make you especially beautiful tonight,” she says. “But to be a good little toy for Miss Cobra, you must only speak words that contain the letter s. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Miss Snake,” he says. He raises his hips off the bed, ready for the pillow that will hold them up.

  She bops him on the chest with her pillow, teasing. “Good toy,” she says, and hisses as she slides the pillow under him. “Miss Cobra thinks she deserves a kiss before she starts.”

  She slides up his chest and lets him taste the condom before it enters him. He wraps his lips around the serpent’s head in gratitude.

  The moment always begins with a kiss to Miss Cobra. Touch, taste and fellatio can only bring Amanda and Naoto so far. The hot scented skin of a lover reveals scars, moles, coarse hair and fat when examined too closely. Amanda needs a room of her own to seal away the rational world and create a joyful realm where she rules with a tender hand. Only then can she guide Miss Cobra into him. She can be the diva she was always meant to be. Naoto squeezes Miss Cobra in his mouth with the tenderness that only a very docile fleshbot can provide. When the tip comes in, his tongue must fall. When it strokes the back of his mouth, his throat must open. His cheeks suck in and he lifts himself back with care. He only has three simple things to do. Forget the world. Forget his uncle. Forget everything but the worship at hand.

  Naoto’s tongue ripples around Miss Cobra and Amanda feels the aftershocks in her own mouth. If she could capture this moment, turn off all desire in Naoto except to fellate Miss Cobra, she’d use it to ride the beat of Miss Cobra against her crotch throughout the night.

  Instead, she waits for him to slow before he strains his neck.

  “Shh,” she says and slides away from his lips.

  Naoto pets her arms as she anoints Miss Cobra with the sacred lube. He wants to feel every glob fall. He can live without its processed smell but…oh, god. When that finger strokes between the cracks around his prickly anus. The ring spills pleasure as her fingers orbit it. Fuck bodies and their shapes. Nothing trumps the moment and…. Oh. My God.

  Miss Cobra slips her head in him while Amanda holds his wrists down. “Miss Cobra will let you touch your breasts,” she says. “Provided that you squeeze mine when I tell you to.”

  He surrenders to the smile that spreads over his face. “Yes, Miss Snake.”

  Amanda leans her hips deeper between his legs and frees his arms. She pushes Miss Cobra one twist deeper, in and out.

  His anus nubs and the hollow within him beg for more touch. Amanda takes her sweet time and keeps to her own rhythm.

  If only the world could see her now, rocking her hips like an Olympic gymnast. The magic of sex shrinks the universe to bubble size. Everything there is, was or will be shakes on this bed and hungers like Amanda’s skin. She knows all the people who have ever lived wish they could lie between Naoto’s legs as she is now. Each thrust from her washes through the generations. The faceless, exotic people in her mind worship her, stay jealous of her, and urge her onward. Oh, god, for this short moment, they love her. This phantom horny mob turns her on so goddamned much. If only they could stay around to fuck her and Naoto afterward.

  She pushes Miss Cobra deeper as his warm hole widens to plead for her.

  “Now,” she says. The hands that paw and pinch her breast are mere pu
ppets, jerked about by the audience. Her toes clench. Her toenails leave marks on Naoto’s thighs.

  In his mind, Naoto is metamorphosing into something very smooth and full of light. He floats in a wire-frame wonderland and his tongue can’t stop licking the inside of his mouth. He pushes himself into Miss Cobra lest the world fall apart if he stops. The rings of flesh that seal him from the universe melt away. He softens as Miss Cobra shakes his cock and balls with every thrust. The nubs around his anus demand and receive all the attention they can ask for. His nipples cry for pressure but he cannot release Amanda’s. He grips hers as hard as he wants to grip his own. Amanda’s rhythm would make stones dance and the dead rise. He drives her down, shaking her chest as a rider whips the horses. He gasps as Miss Cobra completely enters him, in and out. Intensity above; greed, hunger and wide mouths below. Oh, god, his cock is radiating enough light to consume the sun.

  “Please, please,” he says.

  “Do it!” she says.

  He takes ahold of his crying, aching cock, as large as the moon. It shrieks at his touch. His crotch wells up in electric pleasure. He is bringing joy to the galaxy. All the unloved and the denied are given unconditional joy and rapture. He can have everything he’s ever wanted. Just a little pressure and a few deep, fast caresses.

  He rockets Amanda out of him as he orgasms. She giggles.

  Miss Cobra is held aloft by Amanda’s own excitement. Amanda smears his semen on her belly as a war trophy, and bends down to kiss his cock once. He shudders.

  “Too sensitive,” he says. Story of her life.

  Miss Cobra is released and replaced on her perch, and her condom is hurled somewhere near the trash can. Amanda nestles in beside her happy boygirlfriend and lets his gentle breaths graze her face. Naoto wraps his arm around her waist and lets his forehead fall into hers.

  Then the phone rings. It’s muted—under something. They both shake. Naoto isn’t sure where it’s coming from. Maybe they’ll need light to find it. He waits for her to speak. He keeps waiting as it rings again.

  “Oh,” she says. “That’s my roommate’s phone.”