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Erotic Story Joanna
She said her goal was to be filled to overflowing
with our juices. Some mornings, it seemed that way--her mouth tasted of me,
her vagina also, our skins slurred with each others' fluids. She would
disappear then into the den, into the studio, to her work, for a day or for
days. Leaving me to myself, to plan, to my own work.
Part of what she did was write the stories she'd spun while lying beside me afterwards, when the morning sun crashed through the half-open window. Stories that could never have been true, but which, for a wonderful time, we said were true. There was...the Island of Children. There, she said, she had grown up with her identical twin, her brother (genetic manipulation? cloning?)--from an early age, it was as if there was one soul in the two bodies, and they had shared and touched each other always as one would touch oneself. Two touched twoself. (She taking his little sex in her mouth while he slept, making it stand. Then if he woke, riding him down again--or if he did not, sucking him while he dreamed.) They were brown and naked in the sun, their light hair unkempt, sparkling with splashed water. Then they saw the girl lying on the sand. |
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