Our Lives As Genitalia

Our Lives As Genitalia

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Our Lives as Genitalia: A novel with an intense beating erotic main theme.It is subtitled: Signatures from between our legs, aroused by sex, penetrated by memory, yet screwed by the mind to always confront life in the present. The narrative begins as a series of erotic driven encounters but they all ripple back through later relationships in time, place and memory. It seems in the coupling moment that pleasure ignited by pleasures ignition remains uncomplex pleasure for two. However, memory tattoos even seemingly casual sex under our skin. It will meander back through association. The central crux of the story is reflective in its sensual unfolding: we are left with lingering consensual sexual memory. To sum up; the story is best described as thinking erotica unfolding a deep romantic core and the better side of our human nature; though in the heat of racy randy coupling and later separation; this is the last thing on our mind and that’s okay and the story lingers repeatedly in those intense pleasurable memorable moments of life and asks the reader to do the same...our lives as genitalia. The insight devoid of ego may come eventually. An erotic romance novel in forty chapters

Summary

Our Lives as Genitalia: A novel with an intense beating erotic main theme.It is subtitled: Signatures from between our legs, aroused by sex, penetrated by memory, yet screwed by the mind to always confront life in the present.

The narrative begins as a series of erotic driven encounters but they all ripple back through later relationships in time, place and memory. It seems in the coupling moment that pleasure ignited by pleasures ignition remains uncomplex pleasure for two. However, memory tattoos even seemingly casual sex under our skin. It will meander back through association.

The central crux of the story is reflective in its sensual unfolding: we are left with lingering consensual sexual memory.

To sum up; the story is best described as thinking erotica unfolding a deep romantic core and the better side of our human nature; though in the heat of racy randy coupling and later separation; this is the last thing on our mind and that’s okay and the story lingers repeatedly in those intense pleasurable memorable moments of life and asks the reader to do the same...our lives as genitalia.

The insight devoid of ego may come eventually.

An erotic romance novel in forty chapters

Chapter34 (v.1) - Inhibitions

Author Chapter Note

Flashback to a beach when a younger Luke originally met one of the women who shaped his life. Coral and Luke as virgins, go head to head with youth's raunchy smutty sex talk.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 23, 2015

Reads: 303

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 23, 2015

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PART IV: SEXUALITY

Chapter Thirty-Four: INHIBITIONS

I was chewing my finger nails—a bad habit. It got worse; I was going to be classified morally bankrupt by the end of the day. I should have cupped my hands to catch a skied cricket ball, but I was distracted by the female form.

Jesus, I hated Sunday school picnics. No, I didn’t hate Jesus, but I was a getting a bit indifferent to him. Shit, I was a skinny, lanky weed of a kid at seventeen. I thought long shoulder length hair was cool. I was cool too. Pimples were not cool and a couple on my forehead were strategically covered by hair, basically falling over my eyes. What a difference a few years of growth makes: taller, masculine, fuller and some style in the haircut.

There was sand everywhere, which is the first thing I remember: you know, caked to your bathers, caked to your legs, caked to your crotch. Then you see the cold, greenish blue water. Next it’s the dunes and tussocks. Then the whole beach, from tussocks to slight swelling surf, strewn with odd wet socks, towels open or crumpled, misplaced sandals, a broken plastic sandcastle bucket, a few shells, some largish driftwood and sunburnt and sun peeling bodies. Most of my mates and the boys from the adjoining parish who had joined this fun—non compulsory, ‘compulsory’ Saturday—were absorbed in beach cricket. I had been for a while too, but nothing like a nubile to get youth’s attention redirected. I had already missed one skied catch. I wasn’t missing the girl.

She was cute, tanned, on the cusp of womanhood. Well hell, I felt nearly a man, even if I didn’t always look it in the mirror. She had clear faced skin, gorgeous appealing amber eyes, long straight black hair down past her shoulders—a real mane. She was from the other parish and I hadn’t seen her before at one of these annual picnics. She was near the boxes of fruit they had brought all the kids for lunch, two boxes of apples and a few large watermelons. She had a feline quality, though if a mate had asked me right there and then, on the beach: I would have only said to them: ‘Cor, she looks good.

She was coyly flirting with some of the boys playing cricket but she kept a safe distance.  Couldn’t she look in my direction too? I got nervous and started chewing my nails. However, at the same time I was trying to push my chest out. Nothing to lose, I initiated a stumbling start in her direction. She became aware of me in her peripheral vision and turned side on, her developing bust now visible in profile. She had on a one piece, modest, bottle green bathing suit. I stooped and picked up a random shell. She turned and actually looked at me.

Then as quickly, she headed for the water. It must have been the mischief in my eyes. She wanted distance; she didn’t want any part of me in her space at this time. She had a solid freestyle stroke and was moving away rapidly. I dove strongly too and with an accelerated sense of physical action, however, my mind was still teenage purposelessness.

I caught up to her in fairly deep water. She sensed what I was about to do and the reticence was there in a shake of her head. Hell, I did it anyway. “You bugger,” she said as she swam away.

All I saw were amber eyes.

Silence for a moment, broken resoundingly with the chilling boom of Parson Dean’s voice echoing, “Luke…Luke…come in immediately,” held in the mornings already humid mugginess like a trickle of sweat behind the ear. Shit, was I going down. One elder in a group of three pointed their finger directly at me. Not only Dean—who saw all—saw me. I was made to sit in silence by the fruit and not to move until Dean had spoken to the girl.

The cute raven haired mermaid stayed out a fair way, flexing her growing body through the water. When she came up the beach, she had a crinkled old woman’s skin from being in the water too long. She grabbed her towel and started to dry off her hair. Dean, who was near me like a guard, motioned to her and she acknowledged his motion by moving towards him, still trying to get her hair dry.

I saw Dean genuinely shocked and almost flabbergasted for the only time I knew him. She was quicker than Dean, and left a deepening scarlet flush on his already ruddy face.

She said, “He pulled the neck of my bathers and slipped a shell down my front.” She kept drying her long dark locks.

Hell, I thought, big trouble now. He knew I was too close to her, but he couldn’t have been absolutely sure from the beach. No escape now.

“I will contact your parents directly or through Parson Williams, which do you prefer?” responded Dean, only outwardly composed in her presence. Geez, I could get grounded till next century.

The girl with long black strands of hair, now matted a bit like liquorice responded, “It’s okay, I’m forgetting him already.”

And she didn’t even look in my direction. I noticed one of her hands was clenched. She hated me.

“Still,” said Dean, unsure about her untroubled attitude as he continued, “Can I have… please…. your name…as I must inform your parents through Parson Williams.”

“Taylor,” she said, then added, “It’s J. Taylor.” She said it slowly and clearly again, “Jenny Taylor,” as she headed towards a group of girls further along the beach.

I was made to sit out the morning near the apples and the now cut watermelon ready for lunch, along with filled rolls and orange cordial mixed in plastic bins. Flies were already taste testing the juicy melon. I was left there thinking of my sad life. I would die a virgin. The greatest fear of teenage life more feared than death itself: genitals’ failure to get initiated into the world. What the fuck? I could die before I even got to kiss a girl; this was serious stuff, more serious than personal salvation or sin. Those elders were still going on about bruised innocence and a sex maniac in the making. Hell, I hadn’t fondled a breast, let alone actually understood how the flesh really parted between a woman’s legs. It was all a blur beyond the fur.

I had to eat my lunch alone. I wasn’t allowed to join the treasure hunt after lunch. Late in the afternoon I was temporarily readmitted like a black sheep into the fold, for prayers and thanks giving for such fellowship shared here today. We were reminded we were all sinners and some bigger transgressors than others, who needed to repent and repent fast, for the Day of Judgment was at hand, and the flesh is weak, so weak and there is only strength and guidance through the spirit. I couldn’t see the girl, Jenny. Maybe she had left with a group earlier than the rest of us were leaving. I would have liked one more chance with her, maybe get it right. But you never get second chances in life, do you? Shit, she was cute.

I was the last to leave. I had to wait with Dean until my mother arrived to collect me.

I was grounded, not quite forever, but I missed my team’s tennis final. I was told to read the pamphlet gospel Dean had given my parents for me. I flicked through it; it was St Luke’s gospel. So Dean had a sense of humour after all. No, Dean was testing me, as I soon realised. The last page of the publication had an intriguing challenge, which became a daily well- thumbed fixation; I made sure the gospel was at hand if a parent entered my room.

The final words were: ‘Having read this testament of my own free will, I accept/reject the Lord as my Saviour’. Surely, in all goodness and human mercy, only the word ‘accept’ should have been written there. The real temptation was to circle reject, not to be damned, not to spite your parents; but as an affirmation of immortality, at this age apart from virginal fears, you are too young to die. It is the world of adolescent omnipotence.

 

I was back at the same beach a few weeks later with a neighbourhood girl, Coral. You are seldom grounded for life. She wouldn’t risk clambering over the rocks joining this beach, at the headland with the next around the corner. Sure, the tide could make it a bit tricky and slippery but Coral wasn’t in this moment. She was always up and down, on and off with her boyfriend—my mate Josh—who was giving too much recent attention to a blonde with roots from a private all girls school.

I tried to cheer Coral up by tossing wet kelp at her; she got pissed off and sat on the rocks. The tide was going out and getting to the next beach should be easy now. Coral sat there. I tossed more kelp and it dangled over her shoulder. The next bit landed on her head. She still didn’t move. I walked back to her. She was crying quietly. Shit, it was a bit of seaweed. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her, pure platonic friendship, for one moment; getting to any base wasn’t crossing my mind.

“What is it? Josh dumped ya again?” I asked.

“Yes, I feel like seaweed, you prick. Floating nowhere…fucking unattached…” she replied. She was still picking little bits off her arms and out of her long honeyed hair.

“Whoa, too much thinking” I said. I changed our direction with, “Fuck the next beach, let’s get ice-cream.”

The ice-cream didn’t help Coral much, until I flicked some wet mush off the top of my cone but I missed her. I nearly got her ear. Coral returned the compliment, only luck was with her and she flicked a creamy blob right on the bridge of my nose and some got up my nostrils. She laughed. I laughed. Coral was back.

“Geez, Goldilocks...you won’t even remember me if we fucking do it together,” I added further down the esplanade.

She laughed “Yuck! In your dreams, sailor. No chance.”

We drifted from the esplanade back to the beach. The tide was going out and the sand crabs were out, scurrying about. Too much of a temptation, I picked one up and threw it at Coral. She was quick, this girl—she arched back and it missed her. Though very quickly she was tossing one back at me, but this crab was loaded.

“You got crabs, then?” she also threw in my direction.

Smart chick, this one. I needed a comeback: “Well, I can’t see you getting them dry humping Josh…remember the randy guy near the mulberries? Geez, was it last year?”

“Leave the fucking mulberries out of it...No; it’s probably where you go to pull yourself.”

I threw a handful of crabs, but she was creating a bit more space to my left. She knew what was coming.

“Leave the little fuckers alone, sunshine,” she said.

But of course I couldn’t. Tease, tease, tease, it’s what we do when we are young. Another crab in temporary low orbit got her thigh. Much better, I thought it would.

“Leave the bloody crabs alone!” she said. “You know, maybe Josh is my love…the one for me…Well you’re his mate…what do you think? Has he said anything about me?”

Of course I said sarcastically, “It’s only you and me now, Goldilocks.”

“Luke, grow up. No, you can’t. You have a small dick.”

“Getting below the belt now, eh? So who loves Ruby?”

“Oh Christ, Luke. Don’t you ever forget or give up? You fuckin’ prick…as if I’d tell you if I ever kissed Ruby. Don’t you guys think about anything else twenty-four seven except pussy?”

“No.”

“Well, tough shit for you and Josh.” She added with genuine conviction, “I’m gunna be a fucking virgin bride...you pricks wait and see.” She threw a handful of crabs in my direction; she was riled a bit and a couple scored hits on my turned back.

I couldn’t leave Ruby out of it. Besides, Coral had started it: “A lesbian bridal couple. You and Rubes.”

“Fuck your own arse, sunshine. You’ll die a virgin! Death by virginity! You’ll never love a virgin; you will only love a whore.”

Coral was hitting some raw nerves, like she had read my fucking journal or something.

“Come on,” I said. “Sorry…let’s get some chips and coke, okay?”

“Okay, but you’re paying,” said Coral, coming close and dropping two sand crabs on my head.

  We sat on the jetty watching the tide go out; time was time in the moment. This was our place. I was teasing the seagulls now, pretending to throw a chip and watching which one was stupid enough to keep reacting first. Then I put the chip in my mouth and repeated the process.

“So do you like her...Penny?” she half burped out after a swig of coke.

“Penny in your maths class?” I queried.

 “No, dickhead. Penny on the beach, the one who got you in trouble.”

“Oh...the girl at the beach. It was Jenny, not Penny—not that it’s going to make any fucking difference.”

“I wouldn’t be seeing you either, you sick perv. What the fuck were you up to?”

“I don’t know.”And I really didn’t. “I fucking lost it. She was nice. I reckon I won’t get a chance there again. She didn’t even look at me. She stood there with her fists clenched…shit.”

“Poor Lukey is pukey,” responded Coral. “Poor flukey Lukey. You’ll never love anything except your cock, you dick.” She finished the coke and then gave me the can to crush.

“Sorry, Luke. You will love a lot,” she said with an expanding grin.

She could see my interest, hooked me as fucking easily as a seagull waiting for a chip. Maybe Coral had heard someone at school liked me. She waited until the can was completely crushed then added, “They live very close to you and they are sisters. You can choose which one is your favourite.”

Fuck, she was having me on.

“Mrs Palmer’s daughters,” she laughed.

“You bitch...Goldilocks.”

“Sorry. What was her name again; at the beach…there was something about it?”

“Jenny Taylor. Why?”

“Say it slowly, you wanker. Jenny…Taylor. Suits you, Lukey.” She tossed the crushed can over her shoulder, back along the jetty. “Lukey, I’ve seen your shitty journal, you wanker. Fuck, you must drain the main vein a lot”

“Fuck, when?” Shit, I was surprised and fucking opened up like I was naked on the jetty.

“I came to see you on the Saturday you got in trouble with her...was it Penny ... at the beach. When Dean rang and your mum had to go and collect you, she said I could wait there for you. She thought I might have been able to talk some sense into you. When she brought you back”

“You weren’t there when we got back,” I said.

“After an hour, I gave up. Let myself out,” replied Coral. “But not before a peek in a drawer. Shit, I was bored. You write well, Luke, but what a dirty, gutter minded boy. As if you’ll ever have it off with two girls at once.”

I think Coral was on a roll and a woman on a roll is impossible to stop. She had me by the balls and wasn’t letting go. Fuck this. Play the love card.

“Okay, Coral. Let’s go see Josh now.”

Coral was up and moving and thank god she had stopped fucking talking. I was in step next to her. The crushed can left on the jetty glinted in the late afternoon sun. And the final tease is always a treat and I turned for one long look over my shoulder as several seagulls fought for the one chip deliberately left in the greasy bag.

Nearly at Josh’s, Coral could see I was still tense.

“Geez, lighten up, sunshine. Some of what you write is so frickin’ funny…I nearly peed myself! Especially the bit about the expanding universe collapsing under the weight of everyone’s memories and the next big bang being the result of every consensual orgasm ever in the fucking universe? Fuck, I nearly wet myself.”

“Fuckin’ leave it, Coral.” I nearly turned around and thought; go to Josh’s yourself, bitch.

“I can’t. Besides, I could only see you making solo discharges across the Milky Way.”

“Geez…you’ll end up fucking everyone.” I said it to silence her. She finally shut up. Or it could have been the fact we were outside Josh’s house. Hell, she really did like or even actually thought she loved him. She had a trembly unsureness in her stance.

Fuck it. She was frozen in this instance, but never frigid in life. Shit, I wanted her for myself. Whose inhibitions were circling here, unfed like hungry gulls? I went and rang the doorbell. Coral Pearson was my friend.

And Jenny: was she only a series of random fucks and lost opportunities? No; my genitals surprisingly inform me, irreverently as per usual; togetherness is never lost it is only ever found.

 


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