Pages Torn From a Travel Journal

by Edward Lee

  Chaos.

  As if by the snap of satanic fingers, I was standing numb & incomprehending, dead-center within an unknowable kaleidoscope of shrieking, throbbing, panting, ever-moving, copulative frenzy: pandemonium fit for the blackest arcades of Gehenna. All the men had either extracted their privates through their flies, released their trousers, or even stripped completely naked, churning, hips pumping in fornicative mimic, as they stroked themselves whilst leering at the mental sexual fodder, to wit: the young women void of garb with their paphian bodies & witch-fire eyes, so to sufficiently inflame their members for the hideous reward to come. The women themselves danced, writhed, & spun enfrenzied, desperately caressing one another’s breasts, trading tongues, titillating the next’s swollen nipples, or even more lewdly ranging their mouths from one bared pubis to the next; while one after another, the vengeance-crazed men—

  There is no other way to relate it.

  One after another (& as profanity is not my wont), they fucked the head of the dead man on that Tartarean table. I may even have drooled like a mad-house idiot, staring out, reminded at once of the horrid graffito I‘d discovered in the garage commode-chamber. But this was no pervert-scrawl. This was real.

  This was taking place right now.

  Hellish images reflecting akin to flashes on a fiend’s falling ax assaulted my eyes: tumid erections plunging into the raw brain like rods into a butter-churner, faces contorted in distilled animality, bodies stiffening & backs arched as if in burning torment yet lidless eyes showed an indubitable opposite; while crazed women danced, sprang, & twirled like an organic perpetual-motion engine, a delirious horde of delectable, voluptuous feminine flesh. & sounds, sounds, the sheer, cacophonic rampage of sounds: machine-gun chuckles; hoots, hollers, whistles, & even rabid howls; waves of climactic moans; hootenanny caterwauls & climactical squeals more beast-like than human; & voices, voices, voices, instilled to madness with satyriac lust; retaliatory appetency; incubic prurience & succubic guttle–the absolutely unnameable abandon which hit me as an omni-directional cannonade from ravening throats male & female alike as the spiriferous melee surged to incogitability:

  “I’se a-comin’, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII’se a-comin’!”

  “Shee-IT, yeah! Thar’s a great big dick-goober in the middle’a yer coconut!”

  “Hump it, hump it, HUUUUUUUUUUUUMP it!”

  “How you lak that, fella? Huh? How you lak my big dick in yer head?”

  “Fill ‘im up, Deller! Fill that evil bastart’s head with cuuuuuuuuuuuuum!”

  “Yes sir! I’se comin’ up a storm in this here killer’s noggin! Ooooooooo-DOGGIE! He’ll likely have my cum drippin’ out his ass!”

  “Git that nut, Tater! I say, git that nut!”

  “Yeah! Squirt it way on up in ‘nare!”

  “Aw, jiminey, I’se got, I say I’se got so much jism pumpin’ out my pecker it done feel like I’m takin’ a blammed piss, it does!”

  & from the hallucinotic outskirt of roaming, roving women, came a Cimmerian chant: “Fuck that head! Fuck that head! Fuck that-fuck that-FUCK that head!”

  My soul smoldered as if I indeed slipped unknowingly into some insupposable byplace of the Hades. Even in the primevous, coruscating background, I could see some of the clan’s boys–Clonner & Jake among them–half-hiding as they leered at the spectacle with pumpkin grins, masturbating energetically. Meanwhile, more adult clansmen had appeared & wasted no time stepping right up & draining the viscid merchandise of their loins into the killer’s cranium like a player in a crap game all taking his turn. Other men whom I positively noticed to have already spent themselves had managed to refract & go again, a few even a third time! Then one very corpulent clodhopper sporting cauliflower ears, only a moment before a very vocal climax, withdrew his curiously arciformed erection from the unfortunate head, slapped the killer’s face to one side, & ejaculated stout opalescent loops into the dead mouth. & just as the flickering, gaggling, moaning, shrieking, swaying, leaping, uncontemplatable mayhem finally would rise to such a pitch as to somehow spontaneously combust, the scene began to relent until it seemed to have run its frightful course, leaving the male participants standing stoop-shouldered or leaning against trees in exhaustion; or lying flat out on the ground, immobile from exertion, all limp-penised, cross-eyed, agape-mouthed; the women, too, sweat-gleaming as if varnished, their abundant chests heaving from fatigue, lay about entwined in one another like spent odalisques of some Plutonian harem. And as a final touch, in this macabre denouement, the aforementioned clan-elder approached the corpse on the table, tipped the head back over the edge, & marveled at the gush of semen that poured out, quite like milk from a filled-to-the-brim creamer. “Tarnations!” he cracked, “Would’ja lookit all that nut we put in this som’bitch’s head!”

  I nearly collapsed in a faint.

  Surely, I’d witnessed enough of “backwoods ways,” even though a part of me had to shrive that this tenebrous mode of capital punishment made hanging, firing squad, & electrocution seem humdrum when juxtaposed. Ordinarily, I would never think of taking my leave of a host without bidding proper adieu (it would’ve been un-genteel) but under these circumstances?

  It was time to leave, with prompt dispatch, I’d say.

  I back-stepped, hoping to be indiscreet, slipped behind a flickering torch, & prepared to canter my way out of these forbidden woods, back to the road which would return me to Nate’s ramshackle garage. I felt myself sinking into shadow, & in a moment had disappeared from the nefarious clearing. Still soul-shocked by what I’d descried, I stumbled away into darkness barely veined by moonlight filtering down through the limbs of the gnarled, serpentine trees overhead; & when I turned to bolt away–

  “Howard!” came a hot, hushed whisper. “Ya can’t up’n leave now! Ya just cain’t!”

  The sudden start may have momentarily halted my heart. At once, moist hands were on me, & then from the darkness, an earthy yet enticing, white figure emerged as of a sensualistic marble statue emerging from a pool of black ink: the preeminently figured woman I’d come to think of as the “albiness.”

  Once I realized who she was, I felt a hair-trigger surge in my libido; but all I had time to speak was, “Um, my, I . . . ,” & that was all the situation permitted me to voice before the woman roughly embraced me, pressed her lips to mine, & plunged her tongue into my mouth. Her breasts, perfect to a preposterous degree, squashed against my chest like ethereal prods, charging me with a steaming, licentious heat; indeed, her nipples were so stoked by goatish desire, they could’ve been bolt-heads poking my shirt. Forthwith, I shot to tiptoes when an importunate hand kneaded my member through my trousers with the deftness of a practiced milk maid’s on the teat of a cow. I tried to pull away–why, I was not sure at this point–but then other feminine hands–many of them–assailed my body & literally pulled me down onto the forest’s carpet. Against my will, my shirt was opened; soft, wet lips lowering to lick my chest & draw in my own nipples. “Git his pants down!” someone commanded . . .

  & it was so, posthaste.

  “Howard,” the albiness pleaded, “please don’t leave us yet!”

  I don’t appear to have much of a CHOICE! I thought sarcastically, because I was being held down with dominance, hands pinning my arms to the ground, more hands following suit upon my legs, unyielding as iron fetters; & then my alarmed gaze roved an upward half-circle to see that at least a half-dozen “creeker” women–the very women who’d participated in the obscene ritual at the clearing, & all still shiningly naked–knelt about me, holding me fast to the ground as if I’d been staked there. Women, yes, the weaker sex, but these women were hill women, with bodies not only staggeringly provocative but bodies toned, conditioned, &, moreover, strong from the rigors of life in the hinterlands, far stronger–I hasten to add—than this spindly, lily-handed, 146-pound scribe. I may as well have had a pallet of grain sacks sitting atop me.

  “See, see,” the albiness panted, straddling me with her bare g
roin to my bare belly, “we just cain’t have it–you leavin’ without a-fuckin’ us. You’se a hero! We need yer seed, Howard.”

  In the moonlight, I gaped up at her face, which was now flushed pink with excitement, as were her breasts & tops of her arms, while the rest of her remained the fascinating slick-white. Her nipples, now, stuck out surely as coat pegs. Eventually, I jabbered, “Mum-mum-my seed?”

  “Aw, shore, baby!” she replied in a voice like warm, exotic fluid while mouths & tongues still laved my chest & more hands stroked my legs. “Ain’t no one special never come through here–”

  “I assure you, Miss, I’m hardly special. You should see my reviews–”

  “—then all’s a sudden you come along’n catch that devil’s-dick-suckin’ bag’a swamp scum that did that awful thang ta Sary. Howard, you’se the first hero we’se ever seen!”

  This again! “Really, girls, you’re very lovely; in fact, if there were one word I could deem accurate enough to be applied to the physical beauty of you all . . . it would be the word superlative—”

  The crowd of faces peering down burst into chattery laughter.

  “Hush, now, with yer fancified words,” cooed the albiness. Her eyes seemed even to glow a startling red. “Just go on’n give us what we need. Cain’t hardly believe ya wouldn’t wanna.”

  Another face–hovering over magnificent breasts, mind you–urged forward into greater moonlight, & considered with concern, “Less’n yer one’a them homo-types, a queer-boy. Well, is ya?”

  Even in the crush of this calamity, I frowned, “I assure you ladies, I most incontestably am of no such persuasion–”

  “He’s right!” another one, a huge-eyed–and huge-bosomed–blonde exclaimed.

  Another, in a lovely, lilting voice: “Well, holy everlivin’ shit!”

  & another pixie simply squealed in glee.

  “Bleechy!” squealed another. “Git’cher ass off’a him so’s we can all see!”

  Back-lighted by a shaft of lunar light, the albiness–“Bleechy,” I’d now been given notice–began to rise from her uncouth but not unpleasing straddle, the shifty moonlight turning her sprawl of kinky hair to a sex-spirit’s orphic aura; & when she stepped aside–

  The response of the remaining women couldn’t have been more gleefully mad. Exclamations of the most shrill & giddy approval shot from every voluptuous mouth.

  “Gawd, durn! It’s huge!”

  A whistle of giggles, then: “It looks like a shaved weasel, it does!”

  “This hero-man shore got himself a rig, don’t he?”

  “That there’s enough dang meat ta hang in a blammed smokehouse!”

  I could not conceive as to their meaning, but then, another shrieked & blurted:

  “Why, that’s the biggest motherfuckin’ dick I ever gandered in my life!”

  Preposterous. Evidently they were referring to the dimensions of my genitals, though I‘m quite certain they sported nothing especial in that department. They must only be saying such things to be polite to a visitor . . .

  Now the albiness, Bleechy, stood over me, one bare foot to either side of my hips, her hands on her own hips, & she looked down red-eyed in the tinseled moonlight & in a manner purred like a feline. My eyes roved slowly upward, examining every perceptible detail of her luscious physique. She was an ivory tower of the most succulent, intoxicating woman-flesh. “Howard, you are, I say you are shorely somethin, you is. Like a breath’a fresh air come through this shit-hole. A hero–”

  My eyes rolled. “Miss, in all seriousness, I’m not a h–”

  “–and smart as a whip and all full’a big fancified city words–”

  “I’ll admit, I’m a bit bookish, have been since I was four. See, I was taught to read early, as well as possessing a connatural proclivity for reading–”

  “–and handsome–”

  Speechlessness struck me like lightning.

  “–and mixed up with all that, what’choo got ‘tween yer legs? A pecker bigger’n any one ever been part’a this clan!”

  A gulp seized me. Could this be true? No! It was only graciousness that urged remarks of such kudos. Notwithstanding, I wasn’t here to be complimented (nor raped by a bevy of young women so attractive they existed essentially as caricatures of feminine desire!) Happenstance had navigated me here, happenstance & only that. All that weighed on my mind–Bliss—had been relinquished to some subconscious repository during the distractive madness I’d just witnessed. Bliss, I thought forlornly. What was she suffering now? What was she thinking?

  & here I was lying with my pants down & my genitals exposed before a rabble of naked “creeker” girls.

  Never have I felt more ashamed.

  “Ladies, I must go!” I asserted in my beefiest voice, & then I summoned all my strength to break the bond of so many hands holding me fast to the ground.

  I didn’t budge, & giggles burst like scattered night-birds.

  “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Howard,” Bleechy’s voice bubbled down. “If’n you ain’t gonna give us yer business, we’se just gonna have ta take it . . . but what’cha gotta understant, hon, is we’se takin’ it with enough thanks ta fill a blammed pig-trough.”

  An . . . interesting manner with which to legitimize abduction, imprisonment, &, ostensibly, the forcible engagement of carnal knowledge upon an unwilling victim.

  “Please understand, gentlewomen,” I implored, “my conscience, if you must know, is bound to another woman. I’m sure I would not be able to . . . perform.”

  More chatterous laughter rose up like alien surf. A wide-hipped, plug-nippled, & quite mind-boggling brunet chuckled to object, pointing downward. “Not perform, huh? Then why’s yer peckerwood hard as a fencepost & dang near as big?”

  I could not contrive a response.

  “One at a time, girls,” ordered the albiness (pronunciating the word “time” as tam), then plopped her shapely groin down on my erection . . . & squealed. In pain-staking slowness, she rode my privates up & down. The sensation was, admittedly, quite pleasurable. “Don’t’cha git’cher nut, baby. Just give us each’a little sit-down first, okay?”

  “I assure you, I do not receive your meaning!”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head as one possessed by a daemonic entity, & the moan that escaped “Bleechy’s” throat seemed unworldly. “Ah, oh, hon! Fuck–oh, Howard . . . Ain’t never felt nothin’ so’s good as this!” Her hand quickly plied her own privates (baring a peach-seed-sized clitoris out, shiny & pale-pink) during the course of my penetration, when, with a chilling promptitude, she shrieked with all the force her lungs could conscript. Meanwhile, a darkly lovely face huddled close–it was one of the breast-heavy women who held my arms immobilely to the ground–and whispered, “See, Sir, we’se need ya ta give us all yer nut.”

  My face must have corrugated with confusion. “Pardon me, but . . . my nut? If by that you mean my semen, then I’ll point out the impossibility of one man trafficking his sperm to a dozen-plus women in a single foregathering!”

  It was the sated Bleechy who now knelt beside me, patting my head as though I were a listless pet. “Just don’t let’cherself come while each gal has a nice sit-down on yer prick–”

  “What?” I raised my voice at the absurd inference.

  “Just you think ‘bout what fellas do when’s they’se holdin’ back, then leave the rest ta li’l ole me. See, I’se got a system!”

  I had not an idea in the world of what she spoke; I could only assume she expected me to slake the loins of all these women . . . without ejaculating?

  Bleechy continued, as now the 4th or 5th woman took her turn being impaled by me, “We’se need ya ta git’cher seed up in us, all’a us, so’s some of us might get pregnant . . . ”

  “It’s a hero’s nut we all need up’n our cunnies,” another preposterously chested girl explained, “a smart, handsome, city-man’s nut!”

  “—so’s ta git some of us knocked up with a hero’s baby!”

>   Oh, for the sake of Agamemnon!

  It proceeded as thus: one stepped on, sat down, rode her hips manically until her crises was reached, then stepped off to make room for the next, & throughout I was forced to listen to the most shrill cries of satisfaction:

  “Feels lak I’se got a gopher stuck up me!”

  “This dick’s twice as big as anythin’ I been fucked by!”

  “Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh . . . . Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

  “Oh, I’se just swear this hero-fella’s peter is pushin’ ‘gainst my stomach!”

  “Oooooooo, that there’s just the best the best the best the best everlin’ fuckin’ I’se ever gots in my whole cotton-pickin’ LIFE!”

  & more of the same.

  So aggravated was I by their misconception of–I cannot help it–conception, my mind felt quite divided from my undeniably aroused member, such that the annoyed distraction did indeed enable me to forestall orgasm, while the women continued to use my erection for a, so to speak, carnal “scratching-post.” Bleechy kept patting my head as the waiting line, at long last, dwindled.

  & when the last woman was finished?

  “Now, Howard,” gushed Bleechy, “now you’se can have yer nut,” & she swivelled where she knelt, lowered her face, & pulled into her mouth the entirety of my sexual architecture. Instantly I clenched, my toes curling as if to break the souls out of my shoes. Through delectation-narrowed eyes, I managed to glance at the locale of the act, & saw Bleechy engaged in very methodical & adroit fellatio, her lips stretched painfully tight around the girth of my organ. It was rhythmic, machinelike, & rife with suction but the culmination she apparently wanted felt unsummonable: my mind was still at odds with sundries, & when I remembered my chief worry–Bliss–I felt, oddly, that I was being unfaithful to her, an absurd notion, I know; nonetheless, I was even less confident that I would be able to finalize the act to completion.

  Bliss. What further horrors had O’Slaughnassey inflicted upon her since I’d departed? What lies might he be telling her about me? Did she now dismiss me as a coward?