Viewing the local antiquities

I knew her when. The blinds were drawn, but the windows were open against the heat.

We could hear the chat of neighbors, not six feet away, out on their deck; starting the grill, calling the children to order, as they played in the street.

We too were quiet: Except for our gasps, and our laughter: the slap slap slap of our flesh: and faint squelching.

Then, I could pray, and I prayed every night: "Please, take care of Lan."

I got lucky, and she came in my bed.

She'd be thirty-four now. Her son would be six.

A MILF.

The corner: Whistling, but having rushed up the stairs from the train, I don't have breath for the top notes: Angel's brothel. I lift my eyes up to the window:

The shade: raised as before, but her window is empty.

Is she being taken? Right now? By someone not unlike me?

The corner: Angel's brothel. I lift my eyes up: Tonight, the dorm window is raised: A failed window shade, collapsed to the sill on one side, brailed up the other, opens a triangle that gives on the street:

Framed there, a whore.

She rests her small chin on her forearm, calmly surveying the street scene.

Does the mama-san know that her whores can look out?

I wave, discreet, with my fingers, and whistling walk on.

Two spoons, one cup: Lan and I sunnily share two scoops of vanilla topped with late strawberries:

And when there's no more but some cream and one strawberry, promptly halved, halved, halved, halved—

At Lan's urging I spoonsnatch the last bite.

Hardening, softening. 

As forecast

Out in the hall, sniff:

"Dinner!"



Down the all-weather red carpeted hallway, down the stairs: smiling, the mama-san unbolts the door: down the outer stairs, and into the white peelingpaint-lintelled redrainyneon blue dusk of the street.

I forget to look up for the birds.

Earlier

She lies back, pats the bed; I lie down beside her.


"You are not old; you come here!"


"Next time, we will make love first."

Can you get inside my head so I can come?


"I made myself come."



She makes to lie back.

Earlier

"I want your cock. I want your big cock. I want you to put your big cock in my pussy."

Check. Fingers on dry latex. Not soft—



Her fluting voice, poohssy.

The mirror's at the head of the bed, but my glasses are on the nightstand, so all in the mirror is blurred:

She presents, doggy style: her face in the pillow ample rump in the air: I cup her glutes lightly and still she reciprocates: A fury of thwacking and slapping decreasing in amplitude increasing in pitch, then I slow: dip myself into, into her stickiness, again, again, again: A pendulum arcing six inches out, then six in: Working behind her, force over distance:

Since she's not on all fours, but pushing her face into the pillow, and I'm kneeling behind her my dick horizontal, her cunt's angled such that at each inward thrust I pop past something skeleto-muscular: a cuntal speed bump.

Generously, she was increasing my friction.

Earlier

I pull out; ein pause as Julia would have said.


"You must go sit in the Square. You must look at the people, and look at the dogs. A fat lady with short hair will have a fat dog with a short hair. A thin lady will have a thin dog. I took my cat to the vet. I got the same result."


"Yes." Fluting.


"Yes."

Earlier

Flat on my back, feet in the air, legs spread wide like wings, her finger a little silvery fish nosing my anus then working its way in as she blows me: her nose in my bush: though the latex makes her tongue's action feel dull, far away, Angel efficiently suctions one out of me.


"Oooooh...."

"A million sperm."

I plant both feet back on the bed, making sure not to hit her head or her shoulders.


"Many birds."


"When there are many birds, they each sing one note. We have one bird down on the second floor, she sings many notes."

Earlier

"Angel out shopping."


"In one hour."


"Promise?"



Last time, she actually had gone shopping: Pink flip flops from the Gap, the insoles screen-printed with perky green palm trees.


"Is it raining?"

It's spitting? No. Not here. "A little."

"Did you miss me?"


"He missed me!"

The alphabet 


C is for cunt. Intelligent design!
D is for dick. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

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