SECTION THREE
sm
COLUMN
SIXTY-ONE, JULY 1, 2001
(Copyright © 2001 The Blacklisted Journalist)
THE MOONS OF SHAKTI
WARNING! FOR ADULTS ONLY! PERSONS UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO READ THIS STORY.
[Tsaurah Litzky
is a poet and writer of fiction, non fiction and erotica. Her work has appeared
in Best American Erotica 95, 97, 99, 2001 and will be included in BAE
2002.
She has also been published in Penthouse, LONGSHOT, The Unbearables, Crimes
of the Beats, Appearances, Downtown Poets, The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry,
Pink Pages, Beet and many other books and periodicals. Her poetry books
include Kamikaze Lover (Appearances 1999) and the just published Good
Bye Beautiful Mother (Low Tech Press 2001). Formerly a columnist for the now
defunct New York arts weekly Downtown, she now teaches erotic writing and
literature at the New School University.
“That’s
because my tongue is so hungry for you, baby,” I said, “You are my blessed
fountain of sweet cream. I was born to churn your butter.” I bent my head down
to take him in my mouth again.
I
didn’t tell him about Margo, or how she had a flaming arrow tattoo that
pointed from her pierced navel down
her waxed vulva. I didn’t tell him how she used to rub licorice oil on her
little pointy nips because licorice is my favorite candy. For years we hunted
together, stalking all species of domestic and imported, classic and exotic
cock. We also loved to pleasure each other; we felt it kept us balanced, kept us
from getting too crazy over the vagaries of men. We never moved in on each
other’s romances and if we met a man we both liked, we‘d flip a coin or once
in a while decide to share. One St. Patrick’s day in Provincetown we sucked
and fucked Tom Finn until he fainted.
That
was many lifetimes ago, now Danny and I will have been married ten years in two
weeks and Lulu, Marge’s love child by Stevie Ray Vaughn is applying to
college. I wonder why I never told Danny about me and Margo. He has always liked
her and I have told him about our midnight campaigns in crowded bars and dance
halls, the shared men, but I never told him about Margo’s big, black strap-on
that she named the Hornet or how often I slept with my hand on her belly, my
head nesting between her small, white, breasts. Maybe I didn’t want him to
imagine us together, even though I often enjoy imaginary flings with skate board
boys, test pilots or petty thugs like Jean Paul Belmondo in Breathless.. Maybe I didn’t want Danny getting hard and thinking
about the moist valley between Margo’s wide thighs. Can I be turning into a
conventional, jealous wife?
Will
I will start to get suspicious if he lingers in the shower?
After that it is just a short step until I begin to inspect his shirt
collars for lipstick. Jealously is a twisted labyrinth that leads only to loss
of self-respect. How disgusting, particularly since Danny loves me so and I am
wild for him; his intelligence, his decency, his magician’s hands and his fine
tool, his roto-rooter, his cock-a-doodle doo. I even love his poetry and how he
recites Gregory Corso in bed. He tongues every centimeter of my coochie and my
back hole too. He especially loves to plant his fat, hard cock deep inside my
ass crack, to dive between the moons of Shakti, as the Yogis say. I delight in
it as well and encourage him:
"Come
on, John Glenn," I say, "how about some moon diving?"
If
anything, our passion for each other has increased. He tells me he still loves
my legs, although my thighs are now cross-hatched with purple veins. Even if he
is balding and has acquired a pot-belly, he is as beguiling to me as the great
Lord Shiva. I tell him even Buddha had a belly and it’s so erotic.
Only
last month, Margo was telling me that after all this time, Danny is still a stud
muffin. I knew it was her way of complimenting me on my good luck, her way of
telling me she was happy for me. I know she would never disturb my happiness and
yet, I had never told Danny about our sex play. Sometimes when Danny and I are
fucking I truly understand how sex is a divine pathway to cosmic consciousness,
now here I am worrying myself about Danny imagining Margo, here I am wandering
lost in the dark, serpentine tracks of my reptile brain.
I
should be ashamed. I thought all those acid trips had elevated my consciousness;
I must transcend this petty jealously. I should sleep with Danny AND Margo, that
would certainly put my elevated consciousness to the test. Maybe Margo would
like to join me in giving Danny a special party for our anniversary. I remember
my Cousin Bruce telling me how for his birthday one year, his wife Adelaide gave
him her friend Poppy. Adelaide told Bruce his birthday present was in the
bedroom and when she led him in, there was Poppy naked in their bed with a big
red bow tied around her waist. Adelaide excused herself and went to play Bingo.
I am more selfish then she, I want some fun too.
I
still dream of Margo, her slim, delicate, upper body, those small, soft breasts,
that I can cup so easily in my hands, and then her surprisingly wide hips and
big solid ass, her sturdy, thick peasant legs. It is as if it took two women to
make her, top by Modigliani, bottom by Roualt. When Margo walks down the street,
men turn and stare, then they follow her. I’m barely five feet tall, thin,
wiry, intense and dark haired. Lionheart once said she was the Cadillac and I
the Porsche. I wonder if she still thinks about my body too?
I
decide to call her at her job and see if she would be willing to help me make a
very special anniversary party for my Danny. We often kid around about how our
wild times have prepared us for our lives in the here and now, she became an
efficiency expert while I am a Yoga
teacher.
“Sissy,
“ she said when she heard my voice on the phone, “you rascal, I’ve been
meaning to call, it’s been too long, everything is topsy-turvy, my boss Otto
decided he wanted a sex change so he’s in Sweden and I’m running the whole
shebang, I’m so busy I can’t breathe, let’s meet for drinks, I need a
bucket full. How are your classes at Leaping Lotus and how is Danny, your big,
fat poet man?”
Her
words always all pour out in a rush in a breathy little girl voice that is so
incongruous coming out of her large body.
“It’s
Lilting Lotus, Lilting Lotus,” I tell her and then I tell her about the Tantra
for Tension Taming class I’m teaching and that Danny’s book Breathing
without Air is coming out next
fall and, I add, he isn’t fat but substantial.
“Whatever
you say, Sissy, Margo answered laughing. When I ask about Lulu, she says,
“Lulu keeps surprising me," last year she wanted to be a trapeze artist, now
she wants to be a geneticist.”
“Lulu
is like you,” I tell her, “smart enough to do anything.”
Then I tell her what I have in mind.
There
is a long silence on the other end of the phone, then Margo says, “You
know Sissy, our lives are so different now, I’m a mother, you’re a
wife, we have careers, gynecologists, bank accounts, but I still think...” she
paused, “of your bush.”
I
imagined her blushing in that way of hers, her whole face becoming bright, vivid
pink.
“And there’s still a flame burning for you deep inside me,” she continued, “but why fan it,
I
wanted to see
if I could conquer
my base jealousies
it
could flare up, singe our lives, besides it might be no good between us after so
long, maybe we should just remember what we had, a bird in the hand and all
that.....”
“But
Margo,” I said, “ We’re not birds, we love each other and we can handle
it.”
I
didn’t tell her that I wanted to test myself, see if I could conquer my base
jealousies.
“They
were identical,” Margo said, “except Laurie had that King Kong dick.”
“But
Mike’s balls were bigger and covered with hair,” I added.
“Yeah,
I remember,” said Margo, “I got some stuck in my teeth, it’s true,”
Margo went on, “we had such great times, we always enjoyed sharing …
O.K., let’s do it, I can’t
resist, I’ll enter into one more conspiracy with you for auld lang sine
besides I always wanted to see what Danny’s cock looks like.”
Oh,
oh I thought, and suddenly my mouth was dry and I couldn’t speak. A little
green snake was twisting around my throat, strangling me, but I took a few deep,
Bhastrika breaths to elevate my mind. The little snake was gone and at least I
was able to make myself laugh. “Ha, ha” I laughed feebly, “This will be
your chance, ha, ha, ha.”
We
were on the phone all the time over the next two weeks, planning our surprise.
Margo let me take the lead. She told me she was looking forward to it.
She’d been so busy on her job she hadn’t had sex for three months, she
wanted to tongue me again and it was going to be a lot of fun. My anxieties were
dissipating. In the middle of senior yoga class, while I was demonstrating
Praying Mantis lotus to seven senior ladies, I found myself imagining me and
Danny and Margo and I farted loudly and fell over on my head.
I
would tell Danny I was cooking a special anniversary dinner and he should be
home from his copywriting job at seven. Margo and I decided it would be just
too, too crude if he walked into the apartment and found us embracing in the
bedroom. This was a play that deserved a prologue. I would greet him at the door
in my purple leather corset, the one that started under my breasts and went down
to my hips, panties would not be part of the picture, just a purple garter belt,
black fishnets, and my knee-high, black, patent leather stiletto boots. I
decided to go for the mondo tacky effect, so I got strawberry incense and
pink candles. I bought red satin
sheets and a red strobe light for the ceiling fixture.
On
the big day Margo came over an hour before Danny was due. I was already in my
outfit when I answered the door.
“You
look a four grand a night hooker,” she said.
"Thanks
for the compliment,” I told her, then I took her into the bedroom. I lit the
candles and incense and switched on the strobe light.
“Fabulous,”
she commented, “it looks just like a whorehouse.” She took off her trench
coat. All she had on was a pair of black, suede pumps and thigh-high, black
sheer stockings. Her long strawberry blonde hair was cascading down her back
instead of the French braid she usually wore and she had golden glitter on her
face and all over her body. She put her coat and dress away in the closet and
then she took a slow stroll over to the bed, shaking those big mama hips at me.
I couldn’t help but notice that her legs were still perfect, firm and white as
snow, not even one tiny spider vein in sight. I took a deep breath and pushed
that thought from my mind.
“You
are one hot ticket, “ I told Margo. “You look like Wonder Woman.”
I made myself go to her. I put my hands over her delicate breasts and
gently kneaded them. .
“Ahh,”
sighed Margo, “This is going to be a great thing,”
“I’m
going into the living room,” I told her, “Before I get carried away.” I
sat on the living room couch admiring the fine curve of my thighs in my
fishnets.
When
I heard Danny’s familiar
footsteps in the hall and the sound of his key in the lock, I ran to the door
and flung it open. He was standing there holding a big bunch of red roses.
“Happy
….” he started to say and then “wow, wow,” and then, holding the bouquet
out towards me, “Roses are red, the sky is blue, look at you,”
as he eyed me up and down.
“Get
in here, you poet head, “ I said. I grabbed him by the arm, pulled him inside,
and pushed shut the door. I took the roses from him and holding them between us,
leaned over to give him a kiss. He had a big, fleshy Mick Jaggger mouth. I call
him Lover Lips or sometimes Mr. Mouth, then I led him to his chair.
“Just
sit,” I said, “I’ll be right back.”
I
dashed into the kitchen and put the roses in a jar of water and carried it back
into the living room and put in on the television set.
I turned to face him, bowed low so he could see my tits shimmy, and then, with a dramatic flourish, pulled out the joint that was tucked into the top of my corset. I lit it for
I
found his fly,
unzipped it,
pulled out his pride
him
with the candle that was burning on the coffee table and watched him toke some
down. He put the J down in
the ashtray on the table, then he opened his large arms out to me. I
tumbled happily into his lap.
“You’re
the queen of all my dreams, my sweet pea, my ecstasy,” he said.
It
was so romantic being married to a poet. Then he swallowed my mouth up in those
lover lips. I found his fly, unzipped it, pulled out his pride. My Danny's cock
wasn’t all that long, but it was wide, a fine, round log, substantial and
decent, dependable like its owner. No premature ejaculation for my Danny, he
could go for hours. I lifted my pelvis up and took him in all the way, I
sheathed him, I stroked him, massaged him, I washed him and wooed him with my
juices.
“Oh
Sissy, dear wife, star of my life ” he gasped, breathing hard and I felt him
throb within me. I did not want him to come so I lifted off, put my arms about
his waist, hugging his stout belly. I put my lips over his and slowly fucked his
mouth with my tongue. I really took my time and when I felt him pushing into me,
his prick hard as steel, I stopped. Then I knelt, took his socks and boots off
those big, caveman feet and stripped him down.
“I
have a special surprise for you,” I said and led him by his cock head into our
bedroom. Margo’s opulent form glowed larger than life in the candlelight, she
looked like a Goddess from some primeval time, Hera come down from Mount Olympus.
I was startled, overwhelmed by her beauty. In spite of myself I felt my heart
sink, then I got that queasy feeling in my belly that means I’m frightened.
Margo was so lush, so female, so much more woman then I, how would Danny react,
what would he do?
For
once he was speechless, without a quick and clever rhyme. His mouth gaped open,
he was staring at Margo, then “ I don’t believe this,” said Danny, “ I
must be sleeping and this must be a dream.” My stomach got even more queasy, I
could barely breathe but I managed to say, my voice suddenly very reedy and
thin.
“It’s
no dream, lover lips, we planned an anniversary show just for you."
“It
that what this is, “ said Danny, grinning , “I thought I died and came back
as Henry Miller.”
“Happy
Anniversary ,” said Margo.
“Well,
thanks,” said Danny, eyeing her appreciatively, “You must be the cake, I
like that decorative arrow.”
I
felt so sick I wanted to melt into the floor, I must have been crazy, insane, to
do this to myself, but then Danny turned to me. He put his big arms out and
grabbed me.
“Margo’s
the cake and you are my feast of delight," he said. "I’m luckier
then Henry Miller with all his fancy women and his three wives. I have the best
wife in the world, and she’s so sexy, Sissy, every year you get more
gorgeous."
He
kissed my shoulders, my neck, worked his way down to my breast above the corset.
Suddenly the strawberry scent in the room mingled with the odor of musk and
roses. From some distant temple I heard the deep, passionate chords of the sitar
and ooud. I nestled, joyful, into
his neck, traced the line of his collarbone with my tongue, I kissed the little
hollow at the base of his throat and then pulled out of his embrace.
“Let
the show begin,” I said. Margo sat up, her face smiling and radiant. She threw
her head back and shook her flood of hair sensuously side to side, then she
lifted one of her sweet, little breasts
and offered it to me. I did a little, undulating dance as I moved over to the
bed. I found Margo’s roseate
nipple as I had so many times before. She had not forgotten the licorice oil,
and I put her teat in my mouth and sucked and sucked, while she spread her legs
wide before Danny’s eager eyes. She fingered herself as I nursed. I liked to
flick the tip of her nipple with my tongue as I nursed and she must have liked
it too because she started to moan and open and close her legs spasmodically as
she fucked herself with her fingers.
Finally
I pushed her hand aside with my own, found her fat clit and pulled on it first
gently and then harder, harder Her
back curled with pleasure as she lifted up to meet my touch. Even though I was
still sucking at her tit, I was able to turn my head just enough to see Danny.
He was cradling his cock in the palm of his hand and the expression on his face
was so beatific, he looked like he had just deciphered the Rosetta stone,
channeled the lost poems of Atlanitis or won the Pulitzer prize.
Margo
was writhing beneath me now, quivering, rolling her body from side to side. I
didn’t want her to roll away, so I took my mouth off her breast and put my
head between those big legs. Her juices were thick, sweeter than honey, sweeter
than ambrosia and mead. I moved my tongue north and there was her clit, eager,
standing up, yearning for me. I made my mouth small and tight and sucked that
clit like it was the nipple of Mother Kali as Margo bucked hard beneath me. She
let out a big OOOOh and came, filling my mouth with the syrup of life. The
nectar of joy flowed from Margo’s clit into me making me golden and open. I
put my hands on her strong hips and lifted my head up for breath.
“What
a pleasure party,” Margo moaned,
“I love you both.”
“You
two are so beautiful, so beautiful, don’t stop yet,” Danny cried out. I
turned to look at him. He was moving his hand so quickly up and down his cock,
all I could see was a blur.
“Don’t
stop, don’t stop, please, oh baby, oh Sissy, oh Sissy, oh baby, I’m almost
there…” he moaned. I had to smile, he was so adorable in his urgency, then I
got up on my hands and knees and waved my tight, little ass at him, I lifted my
rump higher and higher. Margo, sensing what I had in mind, leaned over and with
her hands spread my ass cheeks wider than the skies of paradise. I wanted to
invite him, to say, “Dear Danny, come, dive between the moons of Shakti,”
but he had moved across the floor towards the bed so quickly that, before I
could even speak, he was there. ##
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