Mirrors of Narcissus (20 page)

Holding my right leg with both hands, he worked his mouth down its inside: the knee, the shin, the ankle, and out to the toes where he delicately kissed and sucked on each one in turn, ending by lovingly sucking my big toe. I worked my free leg back and forth across the bedspread in response to his rhythmic sucking, agitated more by a mental picture of what it suggested than by any direct stimulus.

Unable to take any more, I reached for his dick. To my surprise, it was still soft. I sat up in order to see it better, and he lay down beside me to allow me.

Because of the darkness, I hadn’t yet gotten a good look at his dick. I’d often stolen peeks at his crotch, but knew from experience that it is often difficult to gauge a man’s size when he is fully clothed. Now I made the thrilling discovery of his sheer bulk, much larger than any I’d ever fondled. Even flaccid, its heft was heavy in my palm.

At my touches and squeezes, it slowly lumbered up into an even heavier state of excitement. This gradual hardening was something entirely new to me. My own erection (and those of the young guys I met in Nightworld) was almost always instantaneous.

As I stroked it I discovered that even its hardness had a different quality. Unlike the almost inorganic stiffness of my own, Golden’s dick seemed to have a softer, more vulnerable quality which invited further caresses. I liked the feel of its heavy weight in my palms and fingers.

Golden was touching my hair, caressing the back of my head with his fingers. I turned to him and whispered:

“Oh please…please fuck me.”

I would never have dared say it to a boy my own age, but the age difference between Golden and me freed me from the need to adopt a tough, masculine facade. Instinctively I knew he wouldn’t see my plea as a sign of weakness.

He didn’t seem surprised or put off. I heard him sigh, and the floorboards creaked as he got up and walked away.

But he returned shortly and stretched out beside me. There was almost a sadness about the gentle way he now stroked my thighs. Like a patient in the hands of a trusted doctor, I allowed myself to be turned over onto my stomach. I felt my butt cheeks pushed gently apart, then a coolness as ointment was spread in tiny circular motions around and just within my butthole. My stomach muscles tightened in anticipation.

When he was done, he carefully cleaned off his fingers with tissue paper.

I felt myself turned over onto my back and realized that I was going to be fucked face-to-face. The only time I had ever fucked a boy, we had done it doggie style so that (whether from shame or loathing) we didn’t have to see each other’s faces during the act.

Now, feeling shy, I bent my knees to bring my heels up against my buttocks. When he pushed my thighs gently but firmly apart, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness. I’d never felt so vulnerable before, so completely at the mercy of another person. Strangely enough, however, the sensation was far from unpleasant. In fact the feeling of surrender, of total passivity, gave me a thrill. My stomach muscles agitated and went weak. I brought my knees up to my chest, made bold and reckless by my desire.

I closed my eyes.

At the first touch I remembered how big he was. I began to worry about the pain and couldn’t help tensing up.

The pressure against my hole grew, and as he began forcing his entry, my sighs turned to a whimpering. I held my breath as I felt him push into me, and very quickly the initial feeling of tightness gave way to sharp arrows of pain. I groaned. He continued relentlessly inward until finally I had to cry aloud. My whole lower back was a scintillating mass of pain.

He stopped. “Are you all right, Guy?”

I gritted my teeth, unable to say a word. Sweat covered my forehead. I felt him withdraw, and because any movement registered as pain, it was just as unbearable as the entry.

“Is this the first time for you, Guy?”

I said nothing.

“You should have told me—” He brushed my forehead gently with the back of his hand and reached for a tissue to wipe away the sweat.

“I bet you think I’m a real wimp now, don’t you?” I said.

“No I don’t. You’re just a little tense, that’s all. It’ll go away. Let’s take a little rest.”

We lay for a while in silence, side by side. I felt embarrassed at my inability to go through with it and wondered how another boy my age would have reacted to my failure.

“Listen, Guy, I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. The first time I saw you, I was head over heels in love with you. You were gorgeous, a faggot’s wet dream. But for the longest time I was going crazy because I couldn’t figure you out. Usually I can tell right away. With you, I wasn’t sure if you were being guilelessly accidental, or whether you were deliberately provoking me.” He spoke softly in a pleasant burry tone which was like a tickle in my ear. The darkness magnified it until it was a sensual droning thrum, a hypnotic wash of sound almost void of meaning.

His hand came to rest on my dick. His recital had given me a hard-on. I felt him stir.

“No, wait,” I said.

“It’s all right.”

“Not yet.”

“It’ll be all right, don’t worry.”

And again I had the awful feeling of vulnerability as my thighs were pushed apart. But this time I was scared of the pain I knew was coming. There was a slight pinch as he entered me, then the long, slow thrust, deliberate and unhurried, which stretched my tightness. Although there was some pain, it wasn’t as great as the first time, and I let out a long sigh as I felt myself gradually filling up. This time he didn’t stop until he was all the way in. Then he lowered his body until he lay full-length atop me without moving.

We lay like this for a long time, which gave me a chance to recover from my nervousness. In fact I began to revel in the sluggish, lazy feeling of being filled. The idea that I’d surrendered my defenses and let the enemy in—that my most sacrosanct spot had finally been violated—gave me a perverse and delicious satisfaction. Within the protective clasp of his big strong arms, pressed chest-to-chest in an intimate hug, I felt the stirrings of a tender submission. The secret little girl inside of me came alive and blossomed, gloriously.

With my lips I sought out his; we kissed and held our lips together until I felt faint. His hug tightened, and I curled into it, bringing my legs up until my ankles were crossed loosely above his buttocks.

As if this were the signal to begin, he shifted his weight up off me until he was resting on his elbows. I sighed as the long, slow thrusts began. At first, as I’d feared, there was more pain than anything else. Then gradually—to my dawning surprise—the pain gave way to something else entirely.

The most exquisite waves of pleasure, unlike anything else I’d ever felt before, churned deep within me. Golden’s unhurried, deliberate jogging was stirring me up, drawing up from my depths hidden treasures like the oil pumps in the nearby countryside. I hadn’t realized it would feel like this; if anything, I’d thought the pleasure was mainly a psychological one, linked with the knowledge of giving someone else his pleasure. But this was so gut-wrenchingly visceral—nothing in the world felt this good—that I could see why it was so zealously, ruthlessly prohibited by society; such deliciousness was positively sinful.

I wished the lovely feeling of being filled…and filled…and filled again would continue into infinity. My body felt so limp and languorous, and the dream-like rocking was making me delirious. I listened to the soft, rhythmic grunts of a boy experiencing pleasure as if they were a stranger’s.

My half-open mouth was stopped up with a hot, lingering kiss, and his tongue began to thrust in and out in exact rhythm with the lower thrusting. I wallowed dirtily in the double invasion. The kiss pulled away and I felt a nibbling at my earlobe which made my whole neck flush. My earlobe turned hot and tingly, driving me into higher states of bliss. I was floating in a hazy borderline world from which I could catch tantalizing glimpses of satisfaction…of relief….

Pushed to the limits of my endurance, I reached my hand down and took hold of my dick, stroking myself in rhythm to his thrusting. He knew exactly what I was doing, and purposely matched our rhythms. The double stroking felt like heaven.

I could understand now why some young boys liked older men as lovers. Never before had I enjoyed the luxury of letting go of all my inhibitions, and knowing I didn’t have to play a role.

Very quickly, I felt all my psychic forces gather at the root of my shaft and knew I was ready to let go, completely let go for the first time in my life. Golden sensed that I was ready. The slapping of his groin against my buttocks became more furious in rhythm with my own increased pace. We were one smooth machine, perfectly timed, well oiled, lubricated, functioning for the purpose of pure pleasure. I was on my way, well on my way.

“Oh! Oh!”

I felt my sphincter twitch in time to the spasms wrenching me open, pinching Harry’s dick in rhythm with my bliss, augmenting it, almost making me scream with ecstasy. Warm, tiny dots of semen peppered my belly, seemingly endlessly.

Golden looked down at the glistening white drops atop my belly and increased the pace of his pumping. The expression on his face was that of one intending violence. With a fearful grimace, he clenched his teeth as his pelvis slammed into me repeatedly. My butthole burned from his furious pumping, but the massage was pleasurable. And then suddenly he stopped, his back arched upward, his face contorted, his body rigid. A look as of pain crossed his face and momentarily he was transported to another realm. And then with a soft whimper he sank down gently atop me. My body shivered beneath his, and I felt the warm paste on my belly glue our bodies together. I could feel his heart beating against my chest. His ragged breathing was like a storm raging about my ears. I closed my eyes and put my arms around him and thought of Scott.

Indeed, at this moment, all I could think of was Scott. Strangely enough, the loss of my virginity was somehow a tribute to him, an affirmation of—even a strengthening of—my love for him. And I’d never felt closer to him than I did at this moment.

3

Just as I was creeping into the silent dorm, the muffled sound of the campanile bells striking four o’clock came to my ears. This was the first time I’d come back this late. I’d fallen asleep in Golden’s arms and had only woken up a short time ago, leaving him sleeping on his mattress. Without his glasses he’d looked so helpless and weak.

The hallway was silent. The flicker of the TV screen lit up the darkness of the lounge, but its sound was turned off. Sometimes one of the guys would fall asleep in here but tonight there was no one. I turned off the TV and headed down the hall to my room.

I’d always had a secret fear that once I was fucked in the butt, my walk would change, become the wiggly waggle of the obvious fag. However, there seemed to be no grounds for that fear. My walk was the same as ever. But my butthole was still sore, a visceral token of how profoundly I’d been changed. I’d given up something tonight, but gained a whole lot more, and I felt knowing, superior to my old self. For I’d finally stepped across that forbidden border and violated the sacred taboo; I’d been feminized, had discovered my double boy-girl self, and now wore an invisible gown of glorious sin. I felt exalted.

I opened the door to my room and stepped in, closing it quietly behind me. The first thing I noticed was that the lamp on Scott’s desk was on. But he wasn’t at his desk, nor was he in bed. I went to the shower room and opened the door but it was dark.

I went back to my bed and sat down.

I couldn’t imagine where he would be at this hour. There was no place he could go. All the libraries were closed, and the lounge had been empty. He wasn’t the type to go to an all-night diner by himself, though we’d gone together a couple of times. There was only one place he could go, only one place where he would think to go. Christine’s.

It was obvious what had happened. He’d become worried about my whereabouts. I usually told him beforehand if I was going to spend the night at Christine’s place. And if I felt like going prowling in Nightworld, I would tell him I was going to Chrissie’s apartment for a short visit, and he was too tactful to ever contact me there by phone. Tonight, since I thought I was only going to Golden’s house for a short while, I hadn’t mentioned it to Scott. If I had known what was going to happen, I would have told him something to cover for my absence. However, events had seemed to take a turn of their own.

When it got late, past the time I usually came in, he must have phoned Christine just to make sure I was over at her place. And when he found out I wasn’t there, both of them must have begun to worry. So he’d gone over to her place.

He must still be there now.

I decided to head for her place. Better to go than call from the hall phone and wake everyone up at this time of morning.

Outside, the sky had lightened, and the campus had been transformed into a wonderland; I’d never seen it quite like this before. The very air I breathed was fluid, in motion, its damp freshness giving me a clear vision I’d never before possessed. Wisps of fog clung to the ground, giving the illusion that the whole earth was cloaked in a wonderful new garb. Above, the sky was lightening into a murky gray, and over the tops of the trees I could make out the outline of the campanile tower. Only the very tip was clearly visible, thrusting up from the fog like a primitive marker whose meaning no one knew anymore in this white, white world.

All was silent, no one was about. The only sound was the birds twittering. Reality and dream seemed to be mingling, as if remnants of sleep still clung to my eyes. My experience with Golden now seemed all the more wonderful, like a beautiful dream.

I reached Christine’s apartment building and went up the steps. But just as I was about to knock on her door, a curious premonition held me back. I leaned down to put my ear to the door, and as I did so, the doorknob turned. I quickly pulled back into the shadows behind the fire extinguisher cabinet and ducked down.

The door opened slowly and Scott stepped out. But instead of closing the door and walking away, he was standing in the doorway, turned back to speak to Christine in her room. They were speaking in whispers, and though I strained my ears, I couldn’t make out the gist of it. But the tone of Scott’s voice, every nuance of his movements, conveyed an unmistakable tenderness. I felt my body tense up, fearful of discovery, and wished I hadn’t decided on the spur of the moment to hide myself. I felt I was peeking at something I shouldn’t have seen. An exciting premonition filled me up, almost made me tremble in agitation.

In a moment, Scott had gently closed the door, turned toward the steps and walked down them, out of sight. Slowly I sank to the floor. Was it possible that Christine had betrayed me? The old-fashioned sound of the word “betray” thrilled me. The scenario I’d spun out in my fantasies had finally come true, the affair I’d engineered so carefully had reached fruition. I felt strangely excited. But mixed with this excitement was a sick, self-pitying emptiness in my stomach, the emptiness I’d felt as a child when I thought I’d been mistreated by my parents.

I got up and went to the door, knocked softly on it. In an instant it was flung open. Christine was standing in the doorway wearing a baggy sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. There was no make-up on her face and her hair looked just washed. Her initial expression of worry changed to relief when she saw it was me. “Guy! Where were you? I was worried sick!”

“You’re still up at this hour?”

“Didn’t you run into Scott? He just left here a moment ago.”

“So Scott was here?”

“Of course. He was here almost all night. He’s been going back and forth to the dorm all night to see if you’d returned. Where were you? We kept waiting for you to show up. He’s so worried about you. He said you’ve been depressed lately.”

She let me into her room and closed the door behind me. I looked over at her desk and saw a couple of glasses out, and some empty cans of beer. “Damn. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were having a party in here.”

“Stop evading the issue, Guy.” She looked straight at me. “Where were you tonight? Will you answer me straight? If Scott hadn’t called me tonight looking for you, I would have never known that you were out so late. You’re fooling around, aren’t you? I know it. There’s someone else. No, don’t lie. I can feel it.”

I didn’t try to deny it. My own infidelities took place in a world in which she had no existence. So foreign were they to anything she might imagine that they almost didn’t count as infidelities. Could she even begin to conceive what I’d been doing last night?

And what about her, and that scene I’d just witnessed at her door? The thought that Scott might have been kissing her just before I’d come, the thought that they might have even slept together, gave me the strength to overcome the feelings of guilt which were playing about the edge of my consciousness.

I sat down on her bed and tried not to wince. “What about you, Christine?”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Scott were acting awfully chummy for a pair who are concerned about a mutual friend. Or is it just an extension of going out to see movies together, to meet for dinner after an evening of study together? You two have so much in common, too….”

“Stop it, Guy. You were the one who asked me to go out with him.”

“What’s the matter? If you’re worried about me, don’t be. I’m not the jealous type. And I know I can trust Scott.”

She didn’t answer. When I looked at her, there were tears in her eyes and I felt a sudden panic.

“What’s wrong, Christine?”

She turned away from me. “I wish you wouldn’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“Why don’t you come right out and say it?”

I looked at her, flabbergasted. And then I heard her say in a small voice:

“It’s all over now, I suppose.”

The words I’d secretly longed for, yet dreaded, had finally been uttered. I hadn’t expected it to be like this—and surely hadn’t expected it at this moment. For a long time, I’d suspected that Christine might have known about my true feelings. But I still didn’t want it to break up our relationship. I wanted to make it all work somehow—with her and with Scott. It was as if my need for Scott were bound up inextricably with my relationship with Christine. In some obscure way which I felt unable to unravel, I needed her in order to have Scott.

“Not over, no,” I heard myself say. “But I think we should think things over. We’ve been going together for six months or so now. That’s a long time. Maybe we need to step back and look at what we’ve got. Let’s not rush too soon into doing something which we might regret later.”

“But you’re the one who’s making it impossible. Lately you don’t seem the same. Guy, you know I don’t like lying and hypocrisy, and—I thought our relationship was open. And good.”

“It was.” I realized too late I’d used the past tense. I felt my heart crushed under a great weight. I continued to look at her, and now she couldn’t meet my eyes.

I decided to chance it. “Did something happen tonight, Christine?”

She looked down at her hands. She’d never lied to me before and I knew she couldn’t lie now. It just wasn’t in her nature—she was constitutionally incapable of lying. The fact was, I myself was afraid to face the truth, but some perversity in me insisted on bringing it out of her now, even as I felt I was punishing her by doing so.

She opened her mouth to speak and something in me wanted to stop her before she confessed—to keep the grubby little secret out of sight for a little while longer so I wouldn’t have to face the consequences.

“He was sick with worrying about what might have happened to you. Usually you tell him where you’re going. And we couldn’t imagine where you’d be at that time of night.”

“What did you do?”

“We talked. Had a few drinks. He consoled me. We calmed each other down.”

“And? Did anything else happen?”

She whirled on me with a look almost of hatred on her face and I felt sickened. “What do you mean by ‘anything else?’ I don’t like—” And then suddenly she looked very tired. She sighed:

“Yes.”

She lowered her eyes and blinked rapidly a few times, then looked up at me with a look which chilled me, and said in the tones of a lifeless zombie:

“For your information, Scott is no longer a virgin. I suppose you’re happy now.”

I was unable to say a word. I thought of how her face usually looked during sex, and imagined Scott seeing it at firsthand. An atavistic joy filled my soul. Through the channel of Christine’s body, Scott and I were now one, linked by the most basic bonds vouchsafed to unrelated strangers. My skin, in nakedness, had touched Christine’s, and her skin, in nakedness had touched his. Blood brotherhood was nothing compared to the ritual which had been enacted.

She was speaking so softly that I almost didn’t catch her next words.

“I don’t know how it happened. One thing led to another. I hadn’t intended it at all.” She looked so unhappy that I wanted to stop her, but felt unable to. “It was what you wanted, Guy, wasn’t it?”

The answer died on my lips.

I thought of the past couple of months, which now seemed like years. It had given me a delicious feeling of power to watch the two people I loved most coming together because of me, in spite of me, in secret from me, but with my blessing. I’d felt as if I were engineering their romance, their infidelity. In this, I was motivated by my devotion to Christine as much as my love for Scott. For if I couldn’t have him, then Christine should; for she was the girl he cared most for…cared for in a way I never could. They should be happy together. Their happiness would make mine complete.

She went on tonelessly, as if she were speaking to her innermost self, probably not even caring whether I listened or not, and I felt helpless to do anything but listen.

“I guess our little jealousy games finally came true. We were pushing it to the edge, and this time we went too far to come back. Do you remember that time you jokingly asked about a three-way relationship with Scott—to do him the favor of taking his virginity? In truth, I wasn’t ready to go that far. I mean, I know we’ve been very open to sexual experiences, even to the point of kinkiness. But this was beyond what I wanted. It might have turned you on, but it wasn’t for me. I guess I was old-fashioned. But once the suggestion was made, it lodged in my mind and I began thinking about it. It went on and on in my mind and there was nothing I could do after a while to stop it. It got to the point where I didn’t want to stop it. It was like I had your tacit permission to—to do what I really, in my heart, wanted. Because I knew that you would never have said such a thing unless deep in your heart you really wished it. It was your way of letting me go, pushing me off onto someone else. And who better than your best friend?”

“No, Christine, no. It wasn’t like that.”

“It’s all right. You see, I’d been so afraid. For the longest time I was unsure about my feelings. I liked Scott as a friend because he was your best friend. But when you asked me to sleep with him, I was scared. Because I was really beginning to feel something for him, even back then, and it was like temptation. You were pushing me where you thought it was still safe, but it was dangerous ground. Very dangerous.”

There was a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“And so—it happened. It happened.” She raised her hands helplessly and let them drop.