America Essays Pt VIII - God Smiled As Precocious Children Played  

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10/30/2005 4:28 am

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3/5/2006 9:27 pm

America Essays Pt VIII - God Smiled As Precocious Children Played

Back in Salt Lake City the hour was getting late. Jodi and I sat on the couch and Christopher sat sideways on a plush chair, his legs dangling over the arm. Even though I was on his territory, the tables had somehow turned and he was the third cog in the wheel. Although I was the actual guest, he became the guest that wouldn’t leave.

It seemed to be a battle of wills between he and Jodi. His will was to chaperone us in hopes that she would tire and leave with him. Her will was to allow us a few minutes alone, something we have rarely experienced.

I tried to stay removed from the situation. ‘Whatever happens will happen’ I thought. The conversation in the room began to be punctuated by increasingly long periods of silence. Christopher seemed to mope, but Jodi remained firm. In a battle of wills, she was destined to win.

Eventually Christopher sulked out to the kitchen with his head hanging with resignation. Jodi followed him for a few moments of quiet conversation.

“Use a condom,” he implored in a hushed voice.

She hugged him and said goodnight.

‘Oh how civilized we all are,’ I thought. Perhaps he would have been better off to grab me by the scruff of the neck and toss me out the door. Better off to fight for his beloved or die trying.

But like it or not, she was a Goddess whose light mesmerized the minds of mortal men. A man cannot even dream of conquering She who is unknowable, She who he worships, She who he prostrates himself before.

And the true value of a Goddess is that she allows us to surrender ourselves like helpless children before her grace. Although it is to become drunk on a poisoned wine, it is a glorious and liberating feeling. It is like freefalling over a cliff while believing you can fly.

But to worship without reserve, to give oneself with utter and complete surrender, is certain death. It is to lose the soul. In fact, it is to give one’s very self to that greater soul.

I have knelt before that alter and died that certain death. But a man can only die so many times before he begins to inhabit a netherworld, to eat the fruits of life’s abundance like the kings of Olympus, to greet life’s folly with a wry smile, and to carry a serene secret behind his brow. To be banished to those lofty heights is to share a laugh with God, as we too, stumble our way through life. And our curse and our salvation is that we perceive that in each tear of sorrow there hides the sweetness of life, and that within each moment of joy and laughter there is the bitter reminder of life’s cruel game.

But along with the glory, the burden of being a Goddess must be exhausting. To bear the burden of men’s desires, and to hold the weight of their hopes and dreams, must be a responsibility that terribly limits one’s freedom. On occasion even a Goddess must long for something outside her life to surrender to. Like the Beatles seeking the Maharishi, or Jesus giving his fate to Judas. Dominatrix’ in New York tell me that most of their clients are powerful businessmen. It seems that after a week of controlling others and being in control, all they want is to submit completely to another.

It is strange, the writing process can give one self-knowledge, it can reveal the meaning of past events, and it can help one to understand those around us. As I write this it occurs to me that I may have answered my own question, and perhaps herein lies the answer to why Jodi sought me out.

As Christopher took his leave my mind wandered back to that evening on Jodi’s second New York visit when we made the disastrous trip to Webster Hall. Afterwards the three of us went to Heather’s apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn. We pulled out the sofabed that Jodi was to sleep on and all three of us undressed for sleep and fell into it.

I squeezed in between the two girls, thinking ‘this is my favorite place in the world to be.’ After the events at Webster Hall we were emotionally raw and a bit drunk. I slid my fingertips slowly up the inside of Jodi’s forearm, moving cautiously to see how she would react, and to see how Heather would react. Jodi laid her head back with her eyes half open and her lips parted slightly.

Heather sat up and gently ran her fingers down Jodi’s thigh. Her face registered ecstasy under our caresses. To allow Heather to be closer to Jodi, I moved to her other side. She gasped and bit her lip as Heather and I ran our fingertips across her belly and ribcage.

As I began placing light kisses on her neck, Heather began to kiss her belly and abdomen. Jodi moaned a weak, “aah,” as I ran my tongue across her breast before gripping her nipple between my lips. Her moans became a stuttered, “ah, ah , ah..” as Heather bowed between her legs and began to lap at her swollen lips.

I lifted myself up upon my knees and Jodi took my deliriously erect penis into her mouth. Her moans delivered a vibrating massage as I shook with pleasure. My body was enraptured by her ability to give oral pleasures, and my mind was maddened by the delicious sight of the two lovely bodies spread out before me.

I withdrew from Jodi’s lips as she shrieked with orgasmic pleasure thanks to Heather’s work. She was so loud I placed by fingers on her lips and whispered “shhh,” so she wouldn’t alert the entire neighborhood.

Soon we fell into each other with blissful abandon, a writhing mass of caressing hands, kissing lips, and thrusting pelvises. In our delirium we lost track of where one began and the other ended. We dissolved into a cleansing orgy of liberating rapture.

As the girls locked into a long kiss I pulled back, sitting on the bottom of the bed watching them from below. Jodi was atop Heather and their bodies were molded into a unifying embrace. Their thighs and behinds each created a V shape that came together to form a soft white diamond. I stared in awe of the rare vision before me, as if their flesh formed the arches of a great cathedral. Both were shaved clean and the lips of the cunts stared at me like two little prayer books, each open to page 69, beckoning all to sing a hymn that begins, “Oh dear Lord, for the gift of life we thank thee.”

The sight made me feel a little insane. It was shocking to the eyes and jolted my central nervous system. My mind was swimming with lust. It seemed to trigger impulses from the most primitive recesses of the brain. My blood surged with violence and greed. My breathing became quick and shallow.

I believe it was the only time in my life that I completely lost my mind to sexual frenzy. I crawled atop them, with both of them encircled by my arms. My erection was bucking up and down with a will of its own. With no help needed from guiding hands, I inserted myself inside Heather’s dripping womb and glided in and out with slow, deliberate thrusts.

After about 30 seconds I withdrew and raised myself up about six inches and touched the tip of my penis to Jodi’s lips. They seemed to pull me inside her tight hole with magnificent ease. Her grip was enthralling. My mind went white with ecstasy. After another minute or so I withdrew and returned to Heather, then back and forth, and back and forth, with a madman’s delirium.

Eventually the girls parted below me and I collapsed between them, my chest heaving with long deep breaths as I tried to regain my strength. In unison they moved down me, ten fingers tickled their way down my body, further enhancing my delirium. Their lips kissing their way down my torso, which was flushed pink with passion.

Once they reached my exhausted erection Heather took my balls into her mouth and tugged at them as she sucked. Jodi took my erection fully into her mouth, caressing it with blood filled lips. The pleasure they delivered was more than the mind can digest. I looked down at them and their faces looked positively angelic. The expressions they wore were of serene beneficence. The expression of a kind nurse as she cares for her favorite patient. With purity of heart they bestowed blessings too few men are lucky enough to ever know. They sucked, caressed, coddled, pulled and plied me into a mindless mass of throbbing nerve endings.

When I could summon the strength to lift my head far enough to look down at them, the juxtaposition of their innocent faces and their lurid behavior was glorious to the eyes. Call us sinners, call us perverted, but in my heart I know that if there is a God, that this God was smiling, as his or her or its precocious children played, reveling in the gift bestowed upon them.

As my penis became increasingly engorged my scrotum pulled upwards towards my body, but Heather pulled in the opposite direction constricting the erection tighter and tighter. Finally it began to spasm, jerking wildly like a psychopath in a straightjacket. Heather pulled and sucked with more force, causing my semen to shoot out with inhuman propulsion. To guess from the expression on Jodi’s face she actually savored the flavor as she drank, only a single glistening drop rolling out over the curve of her lip.

I screamed like a murder victim, my face went numb, and my arms and legs quivered uncontrollably. Trying to regain my composure I laughed, embarrassed by my own loss of control.

I don’t remember much after that, except the warmth and security of their bodies beside me. I slept with the peace of mind of a child on a summer’s morning.

As Jodi took my hand I reluctantly returned from my reverie, my face flushed by the heat of those memories. She lead me towards the bedroom of her mother’s apartment for our first real time alone. We closed the door for a rare moment of privacy. And for a rare moment that will remain private.

In the morning Jodi left early to go see Christopher to make sure he got through the night without too much distress. Surely he must have spent the night haunted by visions of what debaucheries went on behind that closed door with his beloved Goddess.

In the afternoon Jodi and I went to the great Salt Lake from which Salt Lake City derived its name. As we walked along the muddy beach we were greeted by a stench so overwhelming it made one want to gag. Jodi explained that millions of brine shrimp would die in the waters and their rotting bodies would fill the air with the smell of death. She said that on hot summer days the smell would permeate the entire city.

We went into a large public building that sat on the beach. The cavernous building was empty except for a few stragglers who wandered about. The place was a bit creepy, reminding me of the abandoned carnival houses on Asbury Park’s dilapidated boardwalk.

To look at the photos on the wall, the building must have been a relic of a bygone era. The photos appeared to be from the 1930’s or 1940’s. In those days the building was filled with happy people creating a carnivalesque atmosphere. In those days the beach seemed to be filled with families dressed in modest swimsuits and rubber-scalloped bathing caps. The lake seemed to have a glorious past. Given the stench that emanated from it, it was hard to imagine.

We sat on a bench holding hands, trying to have a romantic moment in these strange surroundings and amid the foul odor.

As evening approached I prepared to take my leave. Jodi was dressed in some kind of pink Indian or Middle Eastern outfit that reminded me of I Dream Of Jeannie. She seemed to inhabit the archetypes of masculine fantasies as a way of life. But I must admit she looked lovelier than ever.

In order to show me how to get to the highway out of town she drove in her car and I followed in the Blazer. She drove fast and I had to abandon my usual conservative driving habits in order to keep up with her. As we neared the highway she waved energetically. I imagined she must have been exhausted by the burden of having a guest to entertain.

Seeing her through the window of her car reminded me of another story I once heard her tell. She said that sitting at a red light she slowly unbuttoned her blouse until her breasts were exposed. She did it as an experiment to see how much traffic confusion it would cause.

As I drove away the highway passed by the Salt Lake and that horrid odor again filled my lungs. The strange pit of death that the lake had become seemed an odd contrast to the pristine streets of the city. Perhaps it is the price one pays for the sin of perfection. Perhaps the lake is the living embodiment of the darkness that I felt was so repressed in Salt Lake City.

I thought back to my second grade history book. I recall it with an unlikely clarity. It had an orange cover and was filled with black and white drawings to illustrate the stories for young readers. The section on the Mormons described how they were driven westward because of the practice of polygamy. The associated drawing showed three frightened men being chased by a group of men carrying torches as they ran through the dark forest. The section seemed designed to create prejudice in the young minds that would be reading the book.

Another section of the book explained that when the gold miners went to San Francisco, when they had dances there weren’t enough women, so some of the men had to dance with other men. The drawing showed two scruffy gold miners dancing arm and arm around a campfire. It went over my head that this was a warning that the city was inhabited by homosexuals.

Of course Utah officially banned polygamy in order to gain statehood, but some sects are rumored to still continue the practice. In a note of self-aware humor, there is a brand of beer in Utah called Polygamy Porter.

As the city receded into the background I thought about Jodi. Although she lived so far away and I have only seen her on a few short visits, she had become an important person in my life. Yet it seemed the more I knew her the more she remained a mystery. Perhaps she would always be so.

Then a troubling memory came to me. She once told me that when she was a teen her father used to watch porn movies with her in the room. She said he felt that if he was going to do it, he should be open with his family about it. She explained that because of these movies for a long time she believed that sex was something just for men to enjoy. It was a breakthrough when she learned to take pleasure for herself. Although I found this a little unusual she spoke of it as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

At a later time she mentioned that her sister accused her father of molesting her, but she and her mother knew it couldn’t be true because her father would never do such a thing. Still, it was never clear to me why the father was now out of the picture.

With the smell of the lake behind me, the lush landscape begin to give way to a barren desert, leaving me alone with nothing but these uneasy thoughts to fill my mind.

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