Thongs

— 1-

I am thinking all the time of these weeks now, the only weeks of ordinary love I have ever known. Night after night of sensuality. And the days.

When he came into the room, I was lying on the divan. I was still wearing the red dress, long and loose like a curtain which stopped, surprisingly, below my beautifully poised breasts. My nipples were still black, a jet, deep black which heightened enormously the sensual line of the breasts. I had brushed my straight black hair which fell just below the shoulders, and I had given a letterbox look to my mouth with red paint.

He stood for a while just staring at me, as though I had stepped out of the sky, and then, crossing the room quickly, he threw himself to the floor beside the divan and showered my hands with kisses. I lifted his face across the line of my breasts close to my own and held us at a distance of six inches for a few moments until slowly, and sensually, I dragged his lips down against mine. At first I allowed them barely to touch. Sensing his growing passion, I allowed my lips to collapse with a little inward take of breath and his tongue entered gently into my mouth's warm cave. He kissed me for a long time after he put his right hand to my left breast, then he lowered his lips and took the nipple in his mouth.

"You will keep our bargain?" I whispered.

He didn't answer. His whole soul was adoring my breast. I didn't interrupt him. There was plenty of time. I would find out in that time just what he most urgently required of me. It would be his. I would stop at nothing, even, if he saw fit, I would accept death. The thought made the future more exciting. Yes, if Prince B. had the courage to be my murderer, I would gladly give myself up to him. Not for his sake, for at the beginning I had hardly more than a vague sympathy for him, but simply to accomplish dying and to outwit Miguel. Not that I hated Miguel, either. I didn't. But he had for purely selfish reasons deceived me for over five years. Was I flattered? Perhaps. But why shouldn't I deceive him?

But Prince B. was so much like a child in his sucking my breast, or like an adult's version of a child, for a child is often more brutal. I lifted a child in Barcelona one day and gave it my breast. There was no milk and the child put all his puny little strength into sucking.

No. I didn't believe he would never have the power to kill me. Would he, when he lost me, have the power to kill himself? It struck me as strange that I would never know the answer to that question.

He was looking me passionately in the face.

"Carmencita!" he breathed.

I smiled adoringly at him.

He buried his face in my neck. What a child! Should I mother him? Is that what he really desired?

I thought not.

"Suck my cunt!" I said in a vicious whisper. "Come up under my dress, slowly, like a dog!"

When he hesitated, with a defensive look of astonishment on his face, I said intensely, putting lust in my throat: "Do it, my darling! That is what you want to do. Approach gradually with your lips and nose. Come! See if it is dangerous!"

I whirled my full skirt over his head.

With the shame of his face hidden, I pushed his head down gently to the level of my knees. The skirt ballooned over him, his tent of lust.

"Listen!" I said urgently to him, in a soft but breathless and confederate voice: "Do what you want to do! You want to get used to the dark, you don't want to move yet. Don't run home to my cunt like a scared rabbit. Smell it out first! See that it is not dangerous, that you're stronger than it, and then you can take it like a vandal! … But not now! Not yet! For you're not a vandal yet. You are only a mole with a long snout, timorous, blind, you are not sure of what is ahead. It's like being under the sea. It is dark. It has an odor. Deep in this warm tropical sea there is a cave. In shadow. Go with suspicion. There is an octopus in the cave, a great sucking creature, a night. Let your tongue lie on your lower lip and breathe deeply through both voracious nostrils. Pant, but in a muffled way. You don't want the creature to hear. Sniff. Do you smell it? That's it. That. Slowly now, with your nose and tongue smell my left knee cap. Drop a little saliva off. Lick it up. Taste it. Savor it. Now, slide you head 'round so that your nose and tongue touch the soft inside of my right knee. What? What's that? It's not it. It's something else. Warm. Overpowering. It smells like shit. Yes. It is the smell of shit. It is strange and interesting, that smell of shit. No reason for panic. There, now, move your nose up suddenly to smell my cunt, but from a distance, from between my knees, and then bare your teeth; smell through the teeth, salivate, get that wind on your palate. Now, tongue like a little prod ahead, explore the white vastness of my thighs. Dawn is breaking, see, I am lifting my skirt slightly. But not yet, gradually. Stop. You felt a hair at the tip of your nose, a long hair, a hair with an odor; you are near, very near. The tongue. Gently and dripping saliva, let it go forward through your lips. Hold your breath. You feel the hairs at the tip of your tongue? Take a deep breath. A deep smell. Let a noise begin at the back of your throat, a hushed grunt. See, dawn is breaking. Stick your tongue out and lay it with its delicate taste buds on the sweaty mat of hair. The cave is moving like a sponge, gently suppurating, in the tide. The round bowls of the sea's bottom are lifting to your cheeks. It is light. Make a first tentative dent in the hairy mat. See it break red. It is a maw! It is a woman's cunt!"

I shuddered as his mouth thrust itself wetly amid the hair. I farted softly and gripped his cheeks between my thighs in a soft vice. There, his tongue was exploring the slimy pit beneath the mat of hair, tipping over the rubbery parts and sliding voluptuously in the great slime-trickle that moved down like a sap from the dark depths of my belly.

"Suck me dry!" I whispered. "Suck my big hairy slime-pit dry!"

His whole mouth burst into me, the hairs on his upper lip mingling with my cunt hairs.

When he had explored and sucked for about ten minutes, I moved away suddenly, stood up and pulled my dress about my naked loins.

"That's enough for the moment, darling. We must talk a little. I shall ring for tea."

He gazed at me with fascination. He said nothing.