A CANNIBALIST'S GUIDE TO DELICIOUS PLEASURE

      CHAPTER ONE: MY GRAZING EXPERIMENTS

"Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta."                Vladimir Nabokov

 

    1.From the early years of adolescence my reputation for satisfying females flourished. During school lunch or study hall, or to and from chemistry class, some female would offer to carry my books and so I'd have her seated in a chair or stretched in the grass with her blue skirt,or plaid, jerked to her waist, or higher, and her musky panties, or none, clutched in her hands. Then I'd open the skin of her and, snuffling like an aardvark, root my tongue until the membranes ached.
     2. I would lip the gummy labia or lick the grainy wall or drain the juice gathering in the narrow canal level with my teeth. Exploring the whole of the hollow egg I would gradually separate fold upon fold of tissue so that the voluted salmon landscape stretched like a wriggling pinned butterfly. Then, maundering the short crisp hairs, I gnawed the fragrant oyster as if it were breast, a clitoris which in these startlingly rumpled classmates exuded an aroma so sweet and insistent I could only think of it as what, as reassuring.
      3. Confronted by the throbbing rosy knob the white bumps of my tongue would sizzle, along nerves to my teeth and up into my sinuses there'd be such heat that tears would flow. What then but travel her thick lap with my salubrious and rough fork? What else but sprawl tongue-tied before the underdeveloped jungle of her sex? That underway I need not magnify the unearthly sounds I heard in nother way in no other place. Whether a breathing so erotic it had to have been rehearsed or the long strained silences of those who dsqueezed out their orgasms, noise and its sudden absence made me shudder.
     4.From my horizon therefore I listened more than looked, fixed for grunts and for gasps, at times fearful of sending one too far over an edge because each would gallop to so many. I dizzied myself in their abandon, steadied myself with disinterest, not un, dis, what listening, feeling and gazing added up to. I would insert my nail-bitten index finger into an anus, doing so as gently and slowly as a worm. What before were grunts and gasps became long moody violins because something entirely novel had entered their network of nervures.
     5.Splaying labia to lift the clitoris to its pinkest wettest promontory, I would bear down with my lips, drawing the peak into them with the slight pressure of a puckering fish as it cleans the ocean floor. The finger would draw a slow circle in the anus, a circle that gradually spiralled so that one knuckle led to a second, the second to a third. The sigh I heard was one great luff that could have come from a leafy tree in late spring. Her buttocks would relax.
     6.The thumb of the hand whose index finger snaked the anus entered then the fatty bottom of the vulva, just far enough that by rubbing the finger and thumb together through the flesh I could feel them touching, and feel the veiny difference between vagina and anus, between the soft liquid membranes of the one and the firm functional tissues of the other. The fingers worked then as pistons, greased by vaginal fluid, saliva and the rectal mucous gathered and sliding south, accompanied perhaps by a sliver of crudescence no larger than a grain of sand.
     7.Oh, yes, oh, my god, she would whisper, the only whisper I would ever hear from her, the lone signal that she had overcome her shyness.
8.My tongue would dart then between the puckered lips, tapping slowly at the swollen clitoris, engaging the exact rhythm pf the finger and thumb that drove into the anus, into the vagina, adding to these the sweep of my hair across her pubis, hair that she had to grab in her trembling hands for balance though she lay heavy as a mountain on the chair, the grass, the floor, the car seat, the bed, the kitchen table, the oriental, her father's desk in the study.
     9.With her bobby sox poised balletically against my ears and her spine arched like the crest of a fierce wave, I would extend the wolfhound tongue from its dark blue throat and begin to lick, from below the anus, her coccyx, her fuzzy crease, the anus itself, the chewy flesh below the vagina, the vaginal walls, the labia, the clitoris, the pubis, the navel, the ribmeat, sternum, breasts made of sponge or cake or glistening rubber, her throat's delicate cavern, her chin's quivering bolus, and only then, only when the flavor of her body overwhelmed my lips, did I kiss her mouth with the soft pressure of a friend rather lover. An innocent kiss.
     10.When I would kiss her nose my tongue would clear each nostril in a slow globed motion before licking her eyelids, lashes and flicking like a butterfly the warm well of her pupils. She would stiffen at the precarious intimacy, fearful of blindness or pain, murmuring into my face a hot acrid breath full of a yearning that soon it would be over and that on the other hand it might never end. Her arms I drew above her head, pinning them so I could ravage the downy ticklish hollow of the seam between her shoulder and her breast, urging her never to shave there, to let the hair, as it grew, twist and curl in other men's fingers.
11.Through the crotch of my trousers I could feel the steady sopping beat of her clitoris, feel the effort of her labia to attach me to them, of her knees pushing me aggainst her pelvis the way she had seen in a book her father hid in a desk drawer. Take it out, she would murmur.  I want to feel it. The book?
     12.I would travel south once more, palming first one breast, then the other, and as first one nipple, then the other, peeped through the vinculum of the second and third fingers of each hand, I would suck first one nipple then the other, to a mighty erection, at which juncture my teeth would nibble the one, gently, and then the other so that the frontier between pleasure and pain blurred.  I would hear her moan a name in a space where she was not sure if she liked or loathed the treatment.
     13.At which point I would exchange my teeth first on the one, then the other breast, replacing then with my tongue, licking at length not only the aching tip of the nipple, the tiny target identified by indented crosshaired flesh that might one day feed a newborn child, mbut the expansive turkey flesh of the aureole, either a duller shade of pink than either the left or right nipple, or tawny, the color of roehide, and either the size of a dime, nickel, quarter, or in one instance a much handled half dollar.
     14.Feeling her squirm uneasily I lifted each breast with a kneading motion of each palm so that I could trace with my tongue the warm perspirant creases ordinarily hidden by the pubescent weight of developing tissue.  Whether the breasts were small and taut as vulcanized rubber or heavy and round as distant planets, the flesh remained uniformly smooth and supple, the creases themselves mere hints of the trenches time would make of them.  Whether therefore large and the subject of rude remarks in the natatorium locker room, or small and the subject of rude remarks in the natatorium locker room, each breast to a certain degree possessed an elasticity some in time would lose and others, years later, retain, to those classmates' relief, their friends' chagrin.  At the time I handled them, though their circumferences varied and each pair would fit variously under or within my palms and fingers, all shared youthful exuberance at the attention.
     15.Nipples differed dramatically.  From gumdrops or dog noses which at their fully erect merely completed the peak the breasts aspired to, provinding therefore a sense of geometrical satisfaction to the modest hillock, to those that grew under my ministrations with fingers, tongue and teeth like tree trunks thick and high with impertinence, and those whose fullness suggested a penetrating set of eyes, the nipples of the breasts of the classmates I was pleased to be pleasing could not be predicted by breast size, weight, hue, or texture, whether inverted, puffy or priapic.  Each was a surprise, each harbored its own personality, and over time would develop the character that led men to give them unforeseeable pet names — Myrtles, Mildreds and Minervas come to mind, though Ramonas, Dianas, Darcys are not far behind.
     16.Among the nipples of my classmates two were pierced, unusual for the era, sporting fragile eightheen carat rings the width of a pinkie, mine in fact, and whose spaces I filled with curled tongue or knotted with dental floss from her mother's vanity across the room so as to tug simultaneously while with a remote finger I pursued her anus, clitoris or vagina.  One other breast was tattooed, less unusual for my era:  Pegasus, the winged steed, whom I could make fly by squeezing and releasing the meat between my thumb and forefinger.  Another bore the scar of either a cigarette burn or a cauterization, but this I did not touch or question.
     17.When any of the nipples bore the long dark hairs that reminded me of pubis or of their fathers shirtless beside the swimming pools at their houses, I felt squeamish that rather than pleasing this lone novel teenager I confronted an entire genealogy including parents, siblings, aunts and uncles, and felt therefore the object of someone else's lust.  As a result of the haired nipples I feared for the children these females one day would have, and for some reason saw my classmates as mothers chasing their offspring with hairbrushes.  I did not cozen those breasts, instead lifting the bodies by at once the small of the back firmly held in my left arm and keeping in place the fingers penetrating vagina and anus with my right, to the desk in the father's study, or the bed in the parents' bedroom, or even to the edge of the swimming pools when they owned them.
     18.Navels, if I probed them with my tongue, suffered or enjoyed the fate of navels everywhere, being shallow or deep enough to sup water or retaining a raised knot that sent a shiver of discomfort, when I pressed it to my lips, into the groin or belly itself, or to the lower spine of the sacro, iliac or lumbar variety.  Even, I suspect, coccyx.  Yet some navels developed vertically while others were horizontal, and few, in truth, formed the circle we assume they do.  In any of these cases, however, the navel opened onto the fuzzy  roadway leading south, a path undulate and soft as rabbit when I nursed it with my nose.
     19.I would return, if on a grassy hillock, a wide-winged chair or preferably the mahongany desk in her father's study, to the center of gravity and, locking the underside of first one knee, then the other, to the levers of my elbows, raise the legs in unison so as to press them like a wrestler might as far to her chest as they stretched.  The glistening and soaked vulva lay exposed, yawning and, because of their ages, firm at the same time.  Into its aching heart my face would disappear until her belly began to quiver, as if I were tickling her, and her thighs would quake with the strain of breathing deep musical breaths through which one or another classmate whispered, moaned or murmured her joy at being so overwhelmed, either rocking on the axis of her tailbone or stiffening at the buttocks and puckered anus, where my finger had gingerly reentered, never left or drew with its nail a tantalizing circle that awakened the surface of her membranes.  At such a moment, if her father's dead body had lain behind the desk she would not have noticed, or if noticed not cared, and even I would only have given a passing glance to the bullethole at his temple.
     20.In some instances my classmate feared her own ferocity, anxious she would reveal  too much of herself to me or to herself, and frightened too she would later feel shame among her parents or boyfriend or brothers, as if she had cheated them of their image of her.  Or she feared her own appearance, vulnerable and out of control as she was, as I would see her struggling to gain relief from the effort, and so I squeezed her hand in mine, exerted with her, imitating her pleasure by the determination of my tongue to lead her, and the others, to the realization of an elusive, illusory, intimacy, her first orgasm.