. . . [the uncanny as it is depicted in literature] is a much more fertile province than the uncanny in real life, for it contains the whole of the latter and something more besides, something that cannot be found in real life.
ON THE EL from the airport, they sat next to each other in a molded plastic seat designed to boundary two strangers via a slightly raised bump that travelled down the middle. Which they could feel as they sat very close to each other, bodies pressed left to right, leaning slightly against each other’s side. He reached up and across her chest, grazing the front of her leather jacket with a prickly wool sleeve to grasp the raw silk scarf that lay around her neck. He slowly pulled on it until her face was very close to his, never breaking the gaze. She inadvertently fanned her fingers out to touch the side of his body as he pulled her toward him, feeling his chest through layers of wool and cotton as they sat on the rattling train, thighs warm and pressed against each other. They could only get together every other week, living as they did in different cities during the school term. But they were relatively mobile and able to arrange four- and five-day weekends.
They walked together, hip to hip, through the courtyard right up to the stairway of his building, where they separated to walk up the two squeaky flights to his apartment. She watched him walk ahead of her. In the apartment, she dropped her brown suede backpack into a Breuer chair by the door. They watched each other unzip and take off their jackets, flinging them onto the backs of chairs. Holding the gaze. Unwavering control. Unsure about what they were doing. In part. Playing with tropes. Mutual recognition. He lifted her bag from the floor to place it on a chair, saying, “You travel light. It’s good.” Then he walked away into the kitchen to pour them each an ice-cold seltzer. Coming back with two glasses, he handed one to her and then raised his glass in a gesture of acknowledgement. Which she responded to by leaning toward him, kissing his neck with a sweep of tongue and lips cooled by the liquid.
He walked slowly toward her. His hand reached over to her shoulder, gently pulling her body into contact with his. Her arms met his, embracing him back, pulling him toward her, feeling him along the length of their bodies. Noting her soft breasts against his hard chest, pubic bone to hardening cock, the firmness of their touching thighs. They began to kiss, slowly and gently at first. With a sweep of his tongue, he took her entire mouth in his, then resting his tongue at the entrance of her open mouth, poised, moving it only when he felt her tongue envelop his. Then, opening his mouth to contain hers, he sucked her in and released her, over and over, resting his lips against hers, for a moment resisting her tongue meeting his, then pushing against her with closed lips, now seeking out and trying to suck her tongue into his mouth.
They loved to kiss, she thought, running her tongue along his cheek all the way down to his chin. She licked the tiny ridge under his lower lip, feeling the pull of the rough texture of his nascent beard offer resistance. If she stayed more than a moment kissing or licking a cheek, or lip, or eyelid, he couldn’t bear it. His tongue would then seek out her mouth, moving over her lips from side to side, savoring their moist pliancy. Their tongues darted around each other, slowing down and speeding up, drawing back, then hurrying on for more. He would moan and move to nibble her ear, to take the bird from her earlobe with his lips. In the same way he would kiss and lick her belly down to the top of her underpants, sometimes grasping the elastic band in his mouth and pulling them off with his mouth.
Their bodies pressed into one another, seeking out the radiant center of their genitals. They move against each other. She cannot stop herself from moaning slightly. Suddenly he grasped her, hands squeezing her shoulders, and pushed her away. “Not so fast,” he says, reaching for her scarf. Which he placed over her eyes, winding it around her head and tying a knot with an emphatic tug “Now, you will feel it more,” he said, sucking and biting her lips before opening his mouth to kiss her deep and long and hard.
Then he stopped. Grasping her hand firmly by the wrist, he pulled her to walk with him, and led her around the apartment until she could feel her legs touch the side of the bed. He pushed her slightly so that she sat down, one hand caressing a breast with increasing firmness as he leaned into her until they were lying along side of, then under, and on top of each other for long intervals. Until one of them would indicate a desire to vary position. Slipping his hand underneath her blouse, he brushed her erect nipple with the side of his hand, running his fingers around the aureole. Then he pulled her shirt over her head, and nuzzled his head between her breasts, pillowing into her with a sweep of his head, then rising to take as much of a breast into his mouth as he could. He nibbled and sucked her breasts until she moaned, feeling some direct connection to her clitoris that pulsed in rhythm to the firm pressure of his tongue.
When he stopped, she would seek his mouth strongly, falling into him and opening herself to his eager lips. Their bodies pressed up hard against each other, moving their hips in sync with each other. She sighed to feel his hard cock through their clothes, delighted but almost alarmed by its hardness, her wetness, the power of their desire for each other. “Enough of this,” she said suddenly, pulling the scarf-blindfold off her head and holding it as she looked at him, reaching over to stroke the outline of his erect cock through his jeans.
“Now, I will tie you up,” she said to his moan, pushing against her hand. “Stand up,” she said, grasping his belt and pulling him toward her. “Take your clothes off,” she said, rubbing him through the thick jeans material. As he pulled off a cotton sweater and unbuttoned a flannel shirt, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. Then his hand met hers, cupping it and pressing it against him through his clothes for a moment before finally shedding his jeans. She sat down on the bed, savoring the sight of his body, naked now except for his shorts. She looked at his erection, tight up against the white cotton material, seeing a few drops of preejaculate, a circle of wet against the shorts. Lifting them over his cock in order to pull them off, she smiled, noticing a drop quivering on its glistening tip. Following her gaze, he smiled and said, “I’m very wet.” Touching him lightly and smiling broadly, she said, “So I see.” He moved closer to her, bringing his head close to hers. “Kiss me,” he said, before wrapping her mouth in his.
Tying two long silk scarves together, she wrapped one scarf around his right wrist, running it like a chain under the mattress until it met his other wrist from the opposite side. Next, she attended to his legs, knotting old silk ties together to secure his feet. She made one loop gently but firmly around an ankle, proceeding under the mattress to the other. This way each wrist and ankle were held as widely spread as seemed comfortable. She looked at his legs spread far apart but held tightly in position, centering his outstretched body on his pelvis. She had tied him spreadeagle to the bed. She wanted to see him struggle, beg her to release him, entreat her to fuck him, to never let him loose.
He had watched her as she tied him up, a slight sweat bathing his forehead. “Kiss me,” he said, “please.” She watched him thrust his pelvis up as much as the bonds limiting his motion allowed, craning his neck up towards her. Coming over to the bed, she lay down next to him and began to kiss him, caressing his cock with her hand, as she rubbed herself against his leg, feeling her slippery wetness as she slid her hardening clitoris back and forth against the bone of his knee, noting that he moved slightly to meet her motion. “You’re very hard,” he said, with a deep sigh, head thrown back, as she moved to kiss him deeply in reply.
“What would you like to do?” she paused to ask, raising an eyebrow as she looked at him. She inclined her body towards his from her position stretched out next to him, resting her head on her hand, supported by an elbow. She had one leg slung over the “X” his body made on the middle of the double bed. Her knee slowly rubbed his penis lightly back and forth. With her free hand, she grazed his chest, stroking and pinching a nipple until it grew hard, bending over him to tongue it and suck it until he groaned. “So, are you going to tell me what you want to do?” she asked, moving her knee away from his hard penis and resting it on a thigh. “Well . . .” he said, casting a glance over his immobilized torso, the erection quivering slightly, delight and embarrassment mixing in his look.
She began to kiss him again, taking his lower lip between hers and sucking hard on it, then running her tongue over it from side to side, moving to his upper lip until his tongue came to meet hers. She opened her mouth to take him inside her, gulping him down with tiny sucking motions, their tongues finding each other and twisting around and around until one of them would alter the motion.
She moved over to lie on top of him, holding herself up with her arms so that their bodies were touching only at the groin. He thrust his hips up, pushing his cock hard up against her belly, and she leaned into him, savoring his hardness. “Fuck me,” he said, “please. I can’t stand it any more.” “We’ll see what you can stand,” she said, moving herself over him so that his penis slid effortlessly against her totally slippery wet vulva, rippling against her hard clit with each stroke. “Oh. Fuck me,” he moaned, straining to push his cock against her as far as his bonds would allow. “Take me inside you,” he said, looking hard at her. “Stop torturing me.”
“Not so fast,” she said, as she rolled off of him and lay next to him. She reached for the seltzer bottle on the night table and filled her glass again, greedily sipping it because she was parched. “Do you want some,” she offered. He nodded, so she refilled a glass and held it to his lips until he had drunk his fill. Then she slowly began to kiss his face, making her way down from his lips to his ears, then biting and sucking his neck until she rested at a nipple. “Oh, I love it when you do that,” he said of her hardening a nipple with her tongue. She loved the absurdity of mouths on breasts.
Moving herself slowly over him, she changed directions on the bed to suck his toes, tickle and rub his feet, making her way to the center of his body, to nibble the inside of his thighs, alternately licking, sucking, kissing, and biting him there with her mouth while her hand kneaded and softly caressed his other thigh and leg.
Taking his balls into her mouth made her dizzy with his smell, anchored by their rougher texture. He moaned continuously now, moving his hips and straining against the scarves that spread him open, setting a rhythm to her sucking and biting, which had not yet reached his penis. “Oh, God. Suck me. I can’t stand it. Not another minute.” She nipped at the many tiny folds of skin around its base, then licked him from base to tip, first hard, then softly, alternating the top and then the underside of her tongue, back and forth. He lifted his pelvis to meet her mouth, emitting cries and tossing his head from side to side. His body shuddered in waves of desire.
She ran her tongue around and around the top of his penis, taking his head between her lips and making shallow thrusting motions with her mouth and tongue. With one hand, she grasped his penis, encircling it and taking special care to press hard against the ridged area just below its lip that connected the sides. She sucked him, especially forcefully down the backside of its shaft, which he had told her was particularly sensitive. With each thrust she would rest her half-closed mouth firmly around the lip of its head and pressing her lips against him for intervals that she varied, until his groans urged her on. “Oh, more. More, more,” he said. Then she swept her tongue around the head of his penis, sucking him deeply into her mouth and moving her tongue over its length, while her hand ringed him at the same time, attentive to his most sensitive spot.
Sliding her hands under his ass on one of his lifting motions, she grasped his cheeks, rubbing and working them along with the motion of her mouth on his cock. “Put your fingers inside me,” he moaned, “fuck me.” In answer, she moved her fingers back and forth along the crack of his ass until she felt the tiny wrinkled opening, warm and moist, throb against her gently circling finger. Pausing to lubricate her fingers thoroughly with the bottle of almond massage oil they kept on the night table, her hand followed the line from the base of his balls right up to the crack of his ass.
He opened to meet her like a flower, and she eased her middle finger into him, hearing him cry out in pleasure, feeling his sphincter tighten around her finger, release, then tighten again. She worked it to his rhythms, never going further until invited, but stopping only when her finger could easily enter him no further. She moved her finger inside him, slowly back and forth, pressing up against the front of his rectum, allowing his thrusting to work her hand, setting the pace. “Now try two fingers,” he said in between gasps. All the while her mouth and other hand never left his cock, moving over him, in rhythm to her fingers fucking him easily as he pressed his ass against her fingers with each inward motion, allowing her more deeply inside him.
They fucked each other like this for a long delicious while. She had no idea. Her awareness contracted almost completely to the sensate liquid cosmos of her mouth and fingers and the sounds of their pleasure. Her world the feel and heat of him between her lips, reaching deep into her throat, the rhythm of his cock back and forth at the same time her fingers slid deeply in and out of his ass, feeling his thrusts meet her fingers. Then, his cock reached all the way down into the curve of her throat at the same time his ass took her fingers all the way in. His body pushed against her hard, stilling into a strong thrusted orgasm that she felt go on for what seemed to be minutes. Her mouth registered the spurts of semen, warm and briny like seawater, flowing into her mouth in several short spasms at the same time she felt his anus contract in little pulses of ringing afterpleasure. After a moment, she swallowed the ejaculate, and slowly leaned over him to kiss him. “Taste,” she said.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” he spat out, rolling his head from side to side, still breathing in gasps, “it’s too much.” “Untie me, so I can torture you.” She kissed him on the lips. “Twist my arm,” she said, fiddling with the silk knots around his wrist.
They took a break to pee, wash a little, and refill seltzers. “We forgot to smoke,” he said, returning to the bedroom with a joint and an ashtray. “And here’s an extra bathrobe in case you get chilled,” he said, draping a terry robe over her shoulders, and pausing to kiss her neck. “It’s a smooth strong green,” he said, sitting down next to her and lighting the joint, taking a long, slow puff. He held it out to her. “Hmm,” she said, reaching for the joint, “smells great.” “What shall we do now?” he said, looking playfully at her. “That depends on what you want to know,” she said, as she coughed, laughing and exhaling a mouthful of smoke. Leaning back into a cluster of pillows, she passed the joint back to him. “I can’t smoke too much. I want to do some work later,” she said. “Good, I have tons to do myself. You can have the computer if you want. I have stuff to read.” “Great. And let’s get some takeout, then we’ll work.” “Thai, all right?” “Fine.” He put the joint out, moved the ashtray, and began to kiss her until they were rolling around again on the bed. It was so easy when they weren’t cripples or psychos, she thought, her arms around him, tongues intertwined, completely happy being with him.
Never predictable, he chose to replicate for her the spreadeagle position from which he had recently been released. “It had a lot going for it,” he thought, as he looked at her body extended in a classic “X”. He loved the way she looked tied up – helpless and completely open to him, her hipbones prominent and breasts flatter and rounder because of her raised and out-stretched arms, her pubic hair wet with surplus secretions. Maybe they liked the trust and the hypothetical risk. Though they had each never felt safer.
After he had tied her up in the same spreadeagle position, he sat up next to her, leaning down to kiss her, tonguing her deeply. Pulling away slightly, he bent over her and kissed her belly, continuing down to her pubic triangle. Moving his hand over her body to cup her vulva, he rocked her with his hand. “Let’s see how turned on you are,” he said, feeling her wetness even on the longer pubic hair that he grasped and pulled at, twirling a small clump around his fingers, absorbing its wetness.
Then he skilfully parted her inner lips with two fingers, sliding his middle finger far inside her, feeling her wetness and the ever-changing texture of her vagina. “Oh,” he said, “very nice,” working a second finger into her and moving in and out with harder and faster thrusts until she moaned and strained against the scarves, meeting his hand. Suddenly, he took his fingers out of her and began to work the area just a tiny bit above her clitoris with gentle firm rhythmic caresses that made her scream in pleasure. Moving down to cover its length and circle the small knob of hard flesh, he moved his middle finger higher up to grasp its hood. Then he opened her inner lips with a separating sweep of his second and fourth fingers, holding them apart as he slid his middle finger firmly over her clit, a gesture he knew she loved because she would always moan more. He worked his middle finger rhythmically back and forth over her clit, rubbing it ever so slightly harder in time to her increasing pelvic movement against his hand. With his other hand, he thrust two, then three, fingers all the way up inside her, faster and faster until her body tensed into immobility, lifting her into a high-pitched moan of an orgasm that rippled through her, rising and falling for a long time.
He immediately arranged himself on top of her in order to enter her while her orgasm went on in wave after wave, which his fucking now skimmed and rode, taking his cues from her thrusting. After slowing to meet her subsiding motion, instead of stopping altogether, he slowly began to increase the rhythm knowing that she could often be brought back into another pitch of pleasure following immediately upon a first. She opened further to this quick thrust fucking, raising her hips to meet his cock, burning with such exquisite feeling she felt almost faint. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” she moaned, “it’s so good.”
He leaned over her, kissing and biting her breasts, sucking hard on one and then another as he thrust high into her, or licking her neck as he withdrew to the entrance of her vagina, then plunging all the way into her until she screamed with pleasure, rocking with him, tightening her vaginal muscles to grip him when he was deepest inside her, making him gasp, squeeze his eyes shut, and whisper, “Oh, God. It’s so good.”
He stopped for a moment to bend over and untie her legs so she would move more. They both reached for pillows to slide under her hips, and she lifted her legs high, wrapping them tightly around his neck, and guiding him back into her. Each thrust pleasured her differently. After a while, she lost the ability to know which one of them initiated a stroke or set of strokes. She couldn’t feel their borders. Who was who. What was what. Sometimes it felt as if they moved in and out of each other fast, fast, fast, with strokes that were close together. Other times their fucking was long and slow, it reaching so deeply into her that she would cry out. Sometimes there was anger in the force of their fucking, and they fucked as much from need as from desire, hate as much as love. She never knew in advance of their bodies joining who or what would move the other or how. Loving invention.
They fucked for a long time until he pulled out of her in order to move to her mouth. “I love being inside all of you,” he said as he straddled her, bringing his cock very near her mouth. Opening to him with a sucking kiss, she could taste the mixture of their secretions, licking and moving her mouth over him, taking him all the way into her, then pulling back on him. Just as she was falling into a smooth rhythm of taking him in and wrapping her mouth around him as he rocked back on each thrust, he pulled out of her mouth, saying, “It’s getting very sensitive.”
He began to kiss her mouth, running his hands over her entire body, pausing to slide his fingers over her vulva, again seeking her inner labia and finally, as she moaned more and more, her clitoris. He opened her slowly, separating the inner lips carefully with his fingers, and pulling the hood firmly back until her clit lay completely exposed to his tongue. He knelt over her, his erect cock resting against her belly, and began to lick her there with wide gulps, wrapping his mouth around her. Her entire body shuddered with pleasure. Then he held her lips apart with the fingers of one hand as he slowly worked the tip of his tongue back and forth over the length of her clit, returning to the spot just above its most sensitive area for a more intense tonguing.
With each motion, she moved to meet his tongue and lips, breathing herself into his mouth, and pushing her pelvis against him when she wanted him to suck her harder and stronger, and moving ever so slightly up or down in the bed to guide his tongue. His other hand reached into her, thrusting hard and slipping partly out of her, then thrusting into her again with gathering force while his tongue worked her clit steadily. He sensed her lifting herself up to him and pressed his tongue harder onto her, moving back and forth faster until her moaning looped itself into an orgasmic cry that seemed to go on for minutes. Her arms strained hard against the scarves that held her taut, his tongue blanketing her vulva hard and safe, and his fingers pressing up hard against her as far into her as he could go, evoking strong sensation inside her as well.
Again, he entered her, thought this time their pleasure was even more strong, pushing himself all the way into her, thrusting up, over and over, coming partly out only to come hard back into her, sighing and moaning more with each motion. She could feel his sweat mix with hers as he nuzzled his face against her neck. They smelled of sex. Yum. When he finally came, crying out, she felt, not orgasm, but a series of tiny but pleasurable ripples in her vagina reverberating from the cessation of motion, that she could intensify by contracting her muscles against his ejaculating penis.
Their weekend continued much in the same vein, their being talking sex, pace Foucault.