|
16. the big blowjob
As for his past lovers, he liked the one that he used to hit the best. 'Oh Annette...Oh Ahh Annette.' They used to hit each other as they fucked each other, she preferring to be hit by him. He had admitted to a weak sense of excitement in it. He said, 'There's something you got to learn about life, and that is that men get erections over their mothers, yes that's true!' I had a mixture of feelings, jealousy, confusion and anger. Finally I felt pity as he described the pathetic bedroom scenery to me. There was his blue suit pulled up his back and his little white arse bobbing up and down with the freckle on it, as he used his small freckled hand to pull her hair and smack her in the face. Meanwhile, she relived her childhood abuse with flushed cheeks and wet crotch, as they both abused each other on the filthy floor of the derelict house he lived in. She was in her early thirties, slightly bent, a string of mildly abusive relationships to her credit, an appealing brunette, but a little short in the till when it came to the daily takings. Worried, I asked him, 'Would you ever hit me whilst we were fucking?' He laughed and said into my hair, 'No, of course not'. 'Why not?' 'Because I love you.' 'Yeah, he loves you,' said the broken down photocopier. We were talking in the room that they had been pathetic in. The old filing cabinets losing drawers around them. Papers of mysterious typeface tattered and overflowing. Socks and court briefs on the carpet and cigarette butts stuffed down in dark clay vases that darkly would fall and break. Nothing had changed. He was an intellectual derelict. It reminded me of the time I had a derelict living with me. I went to get something from his room, and there were all these tins of cat food filled with ants, water and butts up in his wardrobe. I had just had a shower and was about to go out when the tins toppled onto me. So there I was drowning in water, cigarette ash and cat tuna. Why do they do it? Were they completely unconscious of the bizzare accumulation and of what they chose to worship? Frazer always wished he hadn't told me. But it half turned him on. He wanted to get it off his chest, so I let him. 'At first we just did it because we were experimenting, trying something different.' But they soon both became addicted to it. One day he predictably hit her a little too hard and she started to cry. Then it was time for him to go and steal some money out of her purse, and to go down to the shops for some cigarettes. Each time he was broke and needed cigarettes, he would have an emotionally vulnerable woman cry, in order that he could take some money from her purse. In the end the sex wore off and it was only really her childhood abuse that had to be resolved that held her to him. Soon they both realised that it was only him smacking her in the face that kept them together. Once she started giving him a blowjob whilst he cut the vegetables on the bench in the kitchen. He looked down at his erection and felt sorry for her. He said, 'It could have been one of your dogs down there for all I cared'. It was because he was cooking their dinner, and didn't feel like hitting her, that he didn't want sex. His next erection came as soon as she got angry through his constant button pressing, or when he got angry through hers. He was usually capable of setting up a situation of aggression whenever he felt like fucking, because sex was a very angry act for him. Sex was the thing that forced him to die. He was too gutless to take any other risks. When they split up he said that it was a mutual thing, but I knew that it was her that had left him. She'd warned me to keep away from him by saying, 'I have had a string of mildly abusive men in my life, but he was all of them in one. I've finally learnt the lesson.' She passed the parcel of poison that I caught and held close. So that now it was my turn. |
