A Feast Unknown (17 page)

The woman who served me was a big Titian-haired Dane with the greenest eyes and the softest, thickest, reddest pubic hairs I have ever seen. She was only an inch shorter than I and truly had the figure of a goddess. I knew her well, since she often came to the caves at the same time as I.

After I had eaten, I lay down on the bed. She lay down beside me and began to kiss me. I responded fervently and stroked and cupped her great shapely breasts, and gently rubbed the huge nipples. We went through the usual preludes of uninhibited and experienced couples, but when my penis failed to respond in the slightest to her skilled sucking, she stopped. She looked puzzled and hurt.

She said, “You must have been through something terrible.”

“Nothing to talk about,” I said.

“Nothing to talk about! That means nothing to you?”

I was silent. She said, “I heard about you and Caliban on the bridge.” She shuddered. And then, surprisingly, she laughed.

“Cocks crossed,” she said. “What is the matter with you two?”

“I wish I knew what is the matter with me,” I said. “Is there something wrong with Caliban, too?”

“Aside from you, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. But he has that horsecock. He can only get it into very large women, you know.”

That did not seem likely to me. I was a doctor and I had also read much in medical pathology. I had never heard of a single authenticated case of a man with a penis so large that he could not get it into a normally sized woman, provided that there was lubrication and the woman was not frightened and endowed
with a powerful sphincter. I told the Countess Clara Aakjaer so.

She said, “You may be right. I told him to try me once, I thought I could take him. I was eager to try, but he said no, he knew it was no use. He wanted me to suck him off instead. I refused. I love to suck cock but only if it leads up to getting fucked. I’m funny that way.

“Anyway, I know that he has had a long love affair with his cousin, Trish Wilde.”

“She’s one of us?”

“Yes. She’s an extraordinarily beautiful girl. She has his bronze coloring and even looks like a female Doc Caliban. But they never came here together. I just happened to be here once when she was. I knew her name but I didn’t connect her with Doc until I happened to run into her when I was visiting New York. She took me up to Doc’s apartments in the Empire State Building, and we had dinner together. We couldn’t talk about our common interest in the Nine, of course, because his other guests were outsiders. But afterwards we had a long talk. Trish, by the way, warned me to stay away from him. Outside the caves, he’s hers, she says.

“But she was very frank. She said Doc could get into her but only with a lot of pain for her and she usually sucked him off. The worst of it is, Doc has great moral resistance to fellatio.”

“What?” I said.

“He was given a peculiar training from the age of two on,” she said. “It made him the greatest athlete and strongest man in the world—with the exception of yourself, of course. I don’t suppose he would have gotten to that state if he hadn’t had the physical foundation for it, he’s got the biggest bones of any man

I ever saw—except you, of course.

“He also was educated in the physical sciences and he became not only the greatest surgeon—under a different name by the way—but an extraordinary chemist, physicist, anthropologist, linguist, you name it. The man is disgustingly knowledgeable.

“His father raised him to be a superman, the primary purpose of which was to do good and combat evil.”

“Sounds like a super Boy Scout,” I said.

“In a way, you’re right. His father hated evil with a passion you might call psychotic. His father was killed by criminals, you know.”

“I didn’t,” I said.

“Yes. Anyway, Doc was given a rigid moral training, and for a while he was thinking of becoming a minister. Would you believe that he had no sexual experience with a woman until he was twenty-seven?”

“With a woman?” I said.

“I mean he didn’t even masturbate. He suppressed his sexual feelings. He prides himself on his self-control above everything, you know. He never brags about it, of course, he never brags about anything. Not bragging is part of the self-control bit. But you can tell he’s proud. I suppose that he may have been inhibited by the very size of his whang; it may have embarrassed him. This reinforced his moral reasons and ability to do without women. He told his colleagues, Rivers, Simmons, and the other three—I forget their names—that he was too busy to get involved with women. Besides, he didn’t want to endanger them.”

“They didn’t accept all of that,” I said.

“When Doc was twenty-seven, and was busting up a drug-smuggling ring in Los Angeles, he was captured. A woman, a member of the gang, the leaders moll in fact, slipped him a drug and he was tied up and carried off to a house up Topanga Canyon, I think Trish called it. Anyway, while the other gang members were gone, the woman—Big-Eyes Llewellyn, that was her name—raped Doc. She not only fucked him a number of times, she sucked his balls off.”

“There was one woman who could get that bazooka in,” I said.

“Yes, but Doc told Trish that she was a freak. Anyway, Doc tried not to respond but he failed hopelessly, abysmally. He found out what he was missing. The discovery did not delight him, it enraged him. He broke his bonds and killed the woman and escaped.”

“He had to kill her?” I said.

“No. That was what sent Doc into the first sickness of his life. He almost went insane after that; his conscience almost killed him. He had lost self-control, and committed two evil acts, for the first time and in rapid succession. First, the woman had made him lose his self-control by fucking him and then sucking him off. Second, his reaction to this resulted in another loss of self-control, and he had killed the woman as you would kill a chicken, by wringing the neck until the head came off. He confessed to Trish, a few years later when he met her, that he had an orgasm when the blood jetted out of her neck. It splashed all over him and the room.

“He became very depressed and even suicidal for a year. He told no one what had happened. As far as his buddies were
concerned, he had retired from society for a year to meditate and experiment. He went up to the Arctic Circle, somewhere in Canada, where he has a hideaway and stayed there for a long time. Then he came back with the intention of throwing himself into the battle against evil with a terrible fury. He would try to make up for what he had done by ridding the world of more evil.

“It was then that he met his cousin. Apparently, their fathers had not seen each other since they were teenagers. Trish’s father had migrated from England to Canada and lost contact with the family. Doc’s father also came from England but much later. It was only by accident that they met and then found out they were related.

“Doc and Trish fell in love. Doc told her all. Despite his moral prohibitions, he went to bed with her. She could take him, but it hurt her. She’s a big girl with a small cunt, or so she said. Then Doc did a strange thing …”

“I saw that little Oriental greet him when he went into his house,” I said. “She was very little.”

I had not paid too much attention to her last few sentences. I had been thinking about his cousin and his accusations that I had murdered her. No wonder he hated me. But why did he think I had killed her?

“That’s Patani. I hate her! She’s so exquisite, so tiny and dainty. Don’t worry. She won’t try to take him into her cunt. She’s a compulsive cocksucker. That’s why she and Doc always get together when they’re here.”

She played with my penis for a while and then sucked on it a while. Again, it failed to respond. She said, “Have you really become impotent? No, that can’t be so. You were crossing cocks
with Doc, like Robin Hood and Little John with their quarter-staffs on the bridge. Say! You haven’t gone fairy, have you?”

I said, “No.”

There was no use trying to explain something I did not understand myself. If I told her I could get an enormous erection and jet all over her if I killed her, I would have frightened her. Or at least made her uneasy. Few of those admitted to the caves frighten without great cause.

She asked me if I would at least take the edge off of her, and I said I would. There were plenty of other men who would have done more for her, and so I felt complimented that she would prefer less with me than more with others. I used two fingers on her until she had a number of orgasms, and I also rammed her with my tongue until she had a dozen more orgasms. Aside from my wife, Clara had the sweetest vagina I’ve ever tasted.

I felt excited but it was a numb excitement.

Clara kissed me—she seemed to enjoy the taste of her own cunt—and left me.

24

I know that many of the aficionados of the romances about me will be shocked by what Clara and I did. Even outraged. My “biographer” has depicted me as a man of absolutely unyielding morality. According to him, I remained unswervingly chaste and faithful to my wife when being tempted by very beautiful and passionate young women after I’d gone through long periods of continence. Many aficionados of these romances firmly believe the accounts of my superhuman—or neurotic— moral behavior. Perhaps they like to believe in a man who has the strength they lack.

On the other hand, many readers scoff at this attitude. They deny that any well-sexed man could resist such beauty under such conditions. Even the Victorians were not that Victorian.

The strange thing about this is that my biographer did not exaggerate or lie. When I got married (I knew little as yet of human customs), I gave my word I would be faithful to my wife. She elaborated on this after the ceremony and made me swear
again that I would bed no other woman as long as we lived.

We did not know then, of course, about the Nine or the elixir. I understood her attitude and what she required because The Folk have a similar attitude. However, among The Folk, a male can have more than one wife at a time. And divorce is easy for both male and female.

There have been long periods when I was roaming the jungle or off on some expedition or other or on some mission for the Nine, and I did not see my wife. At these times, I have masturbated. Or, for several years, in the jungle, I took along a pet, a beautiful female leopard. This was never written into his romances by my biographer. In fact, he never heard of it because I never told him. I liked him very much and did not want to offend him or to shatter his image of me any more than it had been by previous disclosures. He was one of the few really likeable humans I have known.

I fell in love with Kuta in an unconventional manner. Some day, I’ll write about this peculiar man-feline relationship. The third year, she ran off with a male leopard, I suppose because I couldn’t give her cubs. Or perhaps she could no longer endure her jealousy of my wife and was afraid that she would attack her. Up to the time that I first loved Kuta, in a glade on a mountainside shortly before dusk, she had been very fond of my wife.

I did not feel that I was breaking my vow by masturbating or by mounting Kuta. That vow only included human females. And certainly Clio would not be jealous of a leopardess. Or she shouldn’t be. I did not, however, say anything about Kuta until after she deserted me. Clio and I were in our London house celebrating our seventh wedding anniversary and my birthday
when I said something about it. It was November 21, 1920. We had been drinking champagne, and that was a mistake because I drink so seldom that a little alcohol quickly uninhibits me. I told her about Kuta and so had to endure several hours of tears and verbal abuse. I finally managed to convince her that I had not been really unfaithful or committed a terrible crime against Nature. As far as I was concerned, the only crime against Nature was against my nature, which suffers when I don’t have a frequent discharge of sexual energy. In other words, if I don’t come at least six times a week, I get nervous and mean.

She forgave me, or said she did, and she is very open and truthful, within limits. She forgave me because I had been raised by The Folk and so was not fully responsible for my “uncivilized” behavior. I said I took full responsibility, and my behavior could be justified far more by logic than hers could be. She ignored this and said that I must promise not to do any such thing again. Not only were humans off-limits, so were animals, no matter how beautiful and cooperative.