the anthropologist

Being in Florida I have had the odd occasion to think of the anthropologist: lcb. Her family was from this state. I cannot remember where. This was years ago. Now she teaches up north. She was quite beautiful, albeit frazzled. But I suppose I have no room to speak on such matters. She had this birthmark that stretched across her shoulder.

I met her through my closest friend in the world. She was his exe and he thought, given our interests, we might have things in common. We started exchanging emails. She was then at the Harvard of the South, I was in Independence Land. I remember she sent me lifted lines from Emily Dickinson and this, in particular, seduced me. Our emails were fanciful rather than direct. Oblique. I wrote about pressing thumbs, about Jean Genet. She wrote about the fork and the spoon. I am not even sure that we were really writing about ideas at the time. It was more about the intuitions of ideas. This was early in my training and coming out of a literary background, I could still speak in that register. It would be dreadful to think how we might talk now. Now I am afraid that my authority would drown those possibilities. This is the effect of training.

We first met at the Met. It was December 1999, I think. This was after several months of exchanged emails. She was going to NY to visit relatives. I had just broken up with MC and had no idea that the latter was carrying my child. Which I would only find out a month later, after she had aborted the pregnancy, and despite my political convictions, I would tarry with the guilt. We walked through the ancient exhibits, aimlessly. I think still petrified by the fact that we had just met this other person who had produced so much desire. When we left, about an hour later, we kissed, standing by a park bench. That night we went to a bar and drank a lot, had dinner. And then I drove her to Queens, where I left her.

I was 26 when I met her. She came to visit me several weeks later. To stay with me. Which was fine with me. I was smitten. But I was curiously wholly impotent around her. I remember her naked on my bed, on all fours with her back arching and I was completely unable to plunder to fuck that incredible ass. Instead, I touched her all the other ways I knew how. I am sure that my lips spent a lot of time between her legs.

Several months later, despite the disappointment (and surprise, for me) of that incident, she invited me to visit her, deep in the South. It was strange being there, if not particularly because my grandfather had just died, only months before, in that Southern city. She picked me up at the airport in her cheap car whose climate control was stuck to unbearably hot.

When we arrived back at her apartment, that eve, we went into her dark apartment. I put down my stuff and sat on her bed. She started kissing me and within minutes she was mounted atop me. I had no trouble this time. And no plastic sheath separated her holiest of holies from my cock. For the next seven days we fucked continually.

We took apart her bedframe and put the mattress on the floor because it created such a racket. Since I could not come in her, I would pull out and she would then put my cock into her mouth and swallow all of it. Once while she was working at her computer, I crawled beneath her legs and kissed her. My tongue struggling to press inside of her. She made me stand in front of her, still seated. She unzipped my pants and licked my cock up and down like a popsicle. It became so hard in her mouth, with the head turning darker purple. We went into the bedroom and I sat down on her chair. I was still so hard and she did not mount me but turned around, casually, as if she was going to sit in the chair as if I was not even there. She slowly lowered herself onto my cock.

How sublime was this crude turgidity and the sharpness of sensation it enables, as my cock pushed into her. My hands were on her hips and pulling her down upon me. The curve of her back, how it narrowed and then swelled on her hips. The line of her spine pointing down to the tip of my sex.

"You're fucking me so hard."

"I want you to fill my pussy with your cum. I don't care. I want all of you in me."

"I want to feel the pulses of your cock and the warmth of your cum in me."

I was in love with her. I wanted the abomination that mirrors and copulation share.

the perversity of monogamy

I met Anya on the back porch of my apartment. Where I have brought so many women. First, there was Damana, who is this gorgeous tall 22-year-old blond Jewish girl with wonderful, glorious large breasts. She is also a Suicide Girl. We fucked there, in the slight alcove behind the alley door and before the stairs leading up to the backdoor. At a party. Another party, there was Bedlina (who only wished there was a line to her bed), who showed me those breasts she'd boasted about for so long, which were all that would keep her company at night all those nights when I would not follow her home. I showed her my, long, boasted about cock, satisfactory in girth and length. But when I followed her home that night I could not fuck her. And then, several months later, there was Anya.

We talked about kissing people and what kind of kissers we were and what it was like to kiss a new person and the unfamiliarity of new lips. Anya is the director of a gallery in SoHo and her professionalism excites me. Perhaps because of my own lack of professionalism (but that will remain a topic for another day). She is so tightly wound that when you lick her pussy she purrs. Her eyes close and she cannot believe the pleasure between her legs. The smell of her pussy is pungent, although pleasantly so, so that it stays with you until you bathe. Her smell is the memory of fucking her. How she begs you not to stop.

When Anya and I were in Paris together, we spent the nights and the days in our room by the Odéon. Finally, our bodies had the time to decompress and devote all to each other. I prefer to treat the body of the other, for the most part, and so I would allow my tongue to trace lines from her lovely large red nipples down to the down between her legs. The smell of her pussy already strong. My tongue prefers to rub across her clit, feeling its surface against her surface. And then slipping down beneath that clit and penetrating inside of her. Pulling her hips against my face. How many times can I repeat this description?

In that quiet room I discovered how to bring her to orgasm quickly. She likes it hard, and I imagine both because of the way that my cock presses against her cervix as well as because of the way my pelvis presses against her clitoris. And I like to pound into her, with her legs up in the air. This woman who is so inflexible becomes a yogi in my hands. I put her legs against my chest, her knees bent over my shoulder and begin to pick her up that way, with my hands on her thighs and hips alternately. But at that angle, my cock no longer first strikes her cervix, but that famed interior zone behind her lower abdomen, whether legend or scientific verity, I cannot tell. All of the vaginas I have enjoyed have never betrayed any universality. But it is when you are holding Anya up like this, thrusting hard into her, that she approaches quickly ...

I am going to marry her. There. You've heard it before many of my friends. In the meantime, I shall ponder the fate of this misplaced journal and the pleasures from it that I derive. And relate more. Because sexual history is a pleasure all its own. I only wish I could share this with Anya. But the slightest whiff of sexual impropriety raises her hackles. I am a good liar because I believe my lies. And it doesn't change the way I love her. Not that this consolation means anything at all, since it is the damage it would do her that is of concern.

(As for interchangeability, MM, until this moment it hadn't occurred to me it might be a plea for your singularity.)

I Speak Roughly, Part 2: RBU

RBU and I dated for 9 months or so. Enough time for a kid. But she was on birth control. Although we fantasized about the bliss of a shotgun wedding, so to speak, the Volvo, and me getting to fuck her the rest of my days. Really, this was a fantasy we held in common. That is, a domestic fantasy. We were both in our thirties and suffered from those sorts of anxieties and cleaved desperately to popular social images that soothed those anxieties.

RBU is not much taller than LR. Perhaps 5'3". She had long black hair then. Her visage is not pale, but fair, turning to slightly olive in the summer. Her breasts were incredible. I'd fantasized about them since I was a small child, sneaking looks at the lingerie section of the Sears catalog. Not only because they were large, but because she wore bras that accentuated her cleavage, and as you know we men have wholly fetishized this. And she played off it. But the rest of her frame is nicely proportioned. No man with sense wouldn't want to fuck her. Or woman. A lovely ass. In fact, body-wise, she was almost the twin of the luscious Tara Tainton. But she had this smile that said she was going to suck your cock until you turned her around and fucked her the rest of the night.

With her, to quote a bedroom poet of my alma mater, my dick was true. Really, I never had even the slightest hesitation about sex with her. And she felt similarly. She used to lay on the love seat (ha) with me, her pussy exposed, until I would take the bait and fuck her. Or lick it until she wanted more. One time I tried to teach her how to play chess. I said I was going to lick her pussy between moves, so as get her to move more quickly. But I did this while she was choosing her moves, thus giving her no inclination to move. It didn't make any sense, but I suppose I was trying to rationalize wanting to eat her out while we were playing a game. And her pussy ... was delicious. I suppose that is a trite thing to say. And what does it mean really, except that I wanted to lick it like a lollypop. Which is not to say that it tasted sweet, but also not that it tasted spicy--something kind of in between. I put my hands on her hips and pulled her pussy against my face, my tongue licking up and down across her clit, occasionally dipping between those lips. What was I trying to find? Her breasts heaving and eyes closed.

We never used condoms. It started off, because my fault for not having brought any, after a first date when we'd kissed and gotten heavy, on the second date (if going to her apartment can be called that) where things progressed. But she had my cock in hand and wanted it to be inside of her. And so we fucked and I came in her, not pulling out even though this had been my strategy on other occasions. The risk was minimal, granted, but I had gotten another woman pregnant although she had been on birth control (the infamous MC, #6). In a sense, we were both saying, we can affirm these consequences. We want chance to intervene.

At least that's the way it was at first. After several months, after the intense arguments had begun and the over-the-phone-and-immediately-annulled break-ups became consistent, I started encouraging her, selfishly I suppose, to go to the bathroom afterwards and empty her vessel. Because I still wanted the pleasure and thrill of bareback, but I was no longer capable of affirming the consequences.

Sex was our language. Which is not to draw an analogy with my experiences with LR, who had no language and used sex (with me) as a poor substitute. I mean, RBU and I had wonderful conversations about interesting things. And emotionally she understood everything--the sexual abuse I'd experienced as a child, the mental collapse, the unbearable stress of my occupation, the family tension. In college she had dropped out one semester ... things had just fallen apart for her. And it took her several years thereafter to finally finish her degree. One of her brothers had sexually abused another (my abuser was a babysitter). And her mother, who she loved and loves, perhaps more than life itself, died of cancer. She had gone through hell and essentially, I'm not sure she is coming back. Which is to say, she lives in the "sweet hereafter" now. The limbo of not-knowing.

Sex was the place both of us felt certain of ourselves, where everything else was discarded just like our clothes. We were probably always most comfortable naked with each other, because it was there--in that space--we had no fear or stress and everything else disappeared. Both of us seek the same from sex. For us both, it has always been a very powerful palliative--and the one we desire most.

She provokes a serious confusion in my soul, erecting my cock and lowering my conscience (and yes, my cock is part of my soul).

I Speak Roughly, or On the Notches on my Bedpost

Nagging sense that I must explain the crassness of the previous post. But also that the phrases used amount to more than merely enumeration, cataloguing. Or rather that they do not and the this speaks to the intentions of the post. Clearly, some ambivalence.

Yet, this is all because I'm anticipating an audience. Trying to drum one up (the usual signs).

But this is odd considering only the other day I told RBU that I could not divulge the address of my blog. Yet the real reason, that here I'd disclosed how I'd fucked her friend LP. And she is just becoming friends with LP again, so it'd be best for them to get along again. And RBU needs the friends. She's gliding right now, safely, across the difficulties of life, supported by numerous, I imagine, sexual encounters and the numerous attentions of men less savory than myself. But those difficulties will reapproach, when these distractions pass.

You can see though, that my real pleasure is in the recounting of betrayal. That I fucked not only one of her friends (LP, #13), but both of them (also LR, #9). And that this desired woman (LP, #13) was the object of the affections of two of my close male friends. To maximize the pleasure, let me say more about it.

First, LR (#9). She has a name like a moviestar. LR was/is stupid. Lovely, very friendly, sympathetic, understanding. But dumb as a rock. Hadn't read a book to save her life. In fact, she came to the hospital the day I was discharged. I paid her back my fucking both of her friends. But LR loved to fuck. The first night I brought her home, she sat on my face and took my cock in her mouth and sucked until she was ready to climb aboard. And it really was climbing because again she's a diminutive (both in stature and in voice ... as well as in intelligence) 5' Korean-Puerto Rican girl. And I'm part of the older generation, which is to say, tall. And we fucked our drunkiness away.

And our relationship, which really lasted only a month or so until I went to Italy for the summer, was just about the sex. What could I possibly have to say to her? Believe me, I tried. But it was just best with a lot of sex. And despite her small body, we had wonderful sex. That was the spring, early summer of 2001.

When I got back in the fall, after having met women in Tübingen and then Cøpenhagen (Carolina, the large-chested shrill screamer, #10), things resumed with LR, but only until I met KHG, and I dropped LR like a bad habit. In fact, started making out with KHG (#11) at a party where LR was (although I can say I didn't arrive with her--although I did get a ride home with her).

Two years later, after KHG kicked me to the curb right as I was taking on the largest wave of a serious, vital depression, I finally got over the sick desire to direct all of my cum to KHG by fucking LR. Seriously, I wouldn't allow myself to fantasize about anyone other than KHG while masturbating. So LR comes along and we have sex. Which was sweet medicine for my wounded soul (albeit too late). That was the fall of 2003. And shortly thereafter, I get thrown in the psychiatric inpatient ward. But not before meeting RBU, one night while out with LR. And as I've said in other posts, she impressed me as a woman I wanted to be with. And in a few weeks after getting out of the hospital, I was (and continue to be immodestly proud of it as well).

As for LR. She won't talk to me anymore, although we see each other at LP(#13)'s parties. Something happened where apparently I said something, which I cannot recall. I swore that I did not say it. Something about love and whatnot.

The numbers are supposed to be funny, you know.

Actually, I feel somewhat bad, because LR was there at such a vital point in my life, namely, when I got out to the hospital, that our friendship has come to nothing. Yet, it was really based on nothing. And despite how much I tried to overlook her cognitive shortcomings, I simply needed things that she would never be able to provide me--namely, as a friend. We could never really talk. And there was a time when that was fine. But ...

the list of notches on my bedpost

1. JLL (1991-93): she was 18. we were both virgins. on our first date she went down on me. went to a Catholic school for girls.
2. ANH (1993): she was 3 years older than me. a graduating senior. I was a sophomore. a poet. after a long drunken night with her, I woke up and said that her body was like a river.
3. K?A (1994-1999): she was a Deadhead. we smoked cigarettes after it. four fucking years of torture.
4. L?M (1996-1997): we slept together for at least a year during my relationship with KA. we were both graduate students. we'd meet in our offices at school and ...
5. DB (1999): Romanian. had won beauty contests in LA after her mother and she'd emigrated there. talked about skipping classes in highschool to go smoke weed and read Horace. we had sex for hours. something of an implicit between myself and the neighbor across the hall--whose woman was louder.
6. MC (1999-2003): our relationship lasted only a month but the sex stretched for years. we first met at a conference. when i met her i knew it wouldn't work. but alcohol got the best of me. got her pregnant. she had an abortion, but did not tell me until 2000.
7. LCB (2000): anthropologist. ex-girlfriend of my best friend. he'd introduced us on the topic of deterritorialization, bodies without organs, and the like. would never use a condom, although she'd recentlly gotten pregnant and then had an abortion. again, perhaps largely my inspiration. had to take her bed apart the week I visited her. too much noise. put the mattress on the floor. a total fucking basketcase, although incredibly functional, which I could say at that point, but no longer.
8. X(J)M (2000): mother of two at the age of 25. two wonderful boys, which I met on several occasions. she gave incredibly blowjobs and had no hangup about the location. once behind a movie theater.
9. LR (2000-2003): once fucked her on the same day as MC. MC came by in the afternoon. then that night LN, who was this tiny (5') Puerto Rican-Korean girl, hung out with me that night. I wondered, while she was sucking my cock, if she could smell the latex from teh condom used earlier with MC (i learned that lesson). no condom with LR, the mother of one beautiful daughter, she'd had at the age of 18.
10. Carolina (2000): she was Danish. although we kept in touch by email and letters, it was really a one night thing. she screamed so loud.
11. KHG (2000-2003): the love of my life. six years my junior. I'd show up at her apt., we'd close the door and start kissing, right there at the door and would walk no farther before we were naked on the floor and I was making her ejaculate noises which I can only imagine neighbors across the hall and downstairs must have heard.
12. RBU (2003-2005): the object of my obsessions. the best fuck, by far. i insisted on coming in her pussy. no condoms. not even in her mouth. it was the fantasy. pregnancy, forced marriage, a Volvo, etc. Summa cum Laude from Penn
13. LP (2005-2007): close friends with RBU and LR. I had my eye on fucking all three of them. but LP was the one I'd wanted first. but she was spending time with a close friend, and then another close friend dated her. our affairs are a secret to everyone except the two of us.
14. LM (2005): only once, really. it just wouldn't fit inside of her incredibly tight pussy. I know this is supposedly some fetishized state, but it just wouldn't work. and she was my JF of graduate school--JF I'd fallen in love with in my sophomore year of college--right before ANH--but I just couldnt' bring myself to have sex with her. both Michigan girls. in fact, LM reminded me so much of JF.
15. A? (2005-2006): ten years younger than me. could have been one of my students. our relationship lasted a week, I think. she has the most amazing wonderful breasts. of course, she was 22 then.
16. KVDV (2006): five years older than me. a Yalie, for which I fetishized her. and her sumptous ass. but as fucked up as me. and two fucked ups don't a normal person make. I was not allowed to touch her when we were trying to sleep, so fragile was her somnolent state. a mother insane. Connecticutt girl, wooed by rich boys who'd introduce her to Allen Ginsburg and the like (Mick Jagger's first wife, I think?). but a very smart girl. and this bedevils me more than anything.
17. NT (2006): had herpes. lovely girl. she gave the most incredible blowjobs. but despite the intense attraction to her, clearly a major practical problem.
18. YMB (2007): my girlfriend. a Michigan girl, which, has a certain resonance for me. but I am calm with her in ways I haven't felt for years (been too attracted to the girls that would argue with me). and Y will, but it's like, she states her position and then, it's over.
19. A?T (2007): one of two different betrayals this year. the other with LP. for how long have I known AT? she once cornered me in a bathroom, years back. and now I'd finally fucked her. just once really, and I consoled myself that time that things were at their worst with me and YMB. as usual, the result of my own fucked up state.

16 years of sex

of course, there were a lot of near misses:
OA (2000): who I wouldn't fuck because I knew she'd fall for me and I would never feel that way about her.
EI (2005): a close friend. we started spending some time together. but i couldn't fuck her for the same reasons ... and the opportunity only came up once ... a strange smell.
??? (2005): she was naked on my bed, on our first date, ready for me to fuck her. and my pipes refused to work.
B??: (2005): the roommate of LM. I can happily say that I broke the two of them apart. B had a crush on me as soon as she met me, but I just had no interest in her, because she was so damned ugly and stupid. not really stupid, but ignorant, I suppose. one night drunk. again, the pipes weren't functioning. thankfully.
W?? (2007): in the bathroom at a local restaurant. technically a betrayal--same week with AT and LP. but no sex. I met her that night, where I'd met a student of a colleague. he knew this girl and then we started talking dirty and well ...