Pages Torn From a Travel Journal Read Free Page B

me.
    The perverse woman’s complaints seemed to cense her 3 suitors. Now the brute copulation recommenced w/a vengeance, such that I feared her fetal water would be untimely summoned. Several minutes ensued as such, & next the man’s face twisted into a rictus of the most basal disdain; & he extracted himself, stood up, & slaked himself of hand, dropping lines of seminal slime onto the woman’s quivering belly. “Yeah, man!” railed one of the others. “Shine the limey bitch up! ” but his accent, which I’d been thus far unable to place, pronounced the “shine” as shan. When the emission abated, its depositor crudely rubbed those same procreative wares all about the woman’s great belly, leaving her intensely agleam. Then he guttered, “Bitch wants ta get fucked hard, huh? Well, I’ll show her hard,” & as the other 2 continued to alternately bite & slap, he trotted off naked only to return in a moment . . .
    With one of the fishing rods.
    Dark cackles circled about the obscene spectacle. “Yeah, stick it to her, Corey!” one egged on. When the woman herself saw what was about to be inserted into her, it was not horror she reacted with, it was encouragement! She moved her frantic hands to her bared privates, using her fingers to widen the aperture & assist the unnatural invasion.
    Hoots, hollers, & whistles ensued evilly as the fishing-rod’s stout haft sunk into the woman’s private egress; then the effort of its bearer produced a long, slow piston effect. It was the outrage of all outrages, an ultimate sickness-induced exploitation of nature. All the while came the woman’s wanton pant; her face grew puff-eyed, & her salacious grin sharpened to the point of drooling. In & out proceeded the obscene rod-handle. The chuckles rose, & when one bit down again on a gorged nipple, the woman’s back arched with a convulsant abruptitude, & from her throat burst a propulsive scream of such pitch, I broke out into gooseflesh. Lastly–
    CRACK!
    –her final demand was discharged as the next slap across her face knocked her to undisputable dizziness & rolled her eyes back in her head; after which she began to shiver seizure-like as her climax was finally achieved.
    The final withdrawal of the rod-handle proved it had reached a depth of a foot, somehow without rupturing the intricacies of the woman’s womb. Moments later, the men collapsed, wither-penised & exhausted; yet the woman hopped up almost cheerily & bid in the shining accent, “Thanks, fellas! The fucking most Yanks manage ain’t worth a bag of wank and a brown trout, but that was fair to midland–now I think I’ll have a dip,” & with this, she waddled off–nude & enthused–toward the lake, as if nothing untoward had taken place.
     
    Dusk
     
    My disheartenment stalked me for the remnant of daylight’s hours. Blast the Fates for throwing such raving lewdness across my otherwise meek-minded path. What I’d seen heretofore seemed to provoke a deep self-rumination. Certainly, the weird tales I’d spent my adulthood crafting were rife with implied procreative aberrancy; why witnessing it in reality’s scape should disjoint me so, I could not estimate. Was I, in my wee tales, venting speculations–or even phantasies–otherwise kept reticent in my subconscious? This I shuddered to contemplate.
    & I shuddered further to realize something I would never admit to a living soul: the sexual unnaturalness I’d watched take place on that lake shore left me decidedly & ashamedly aroused, more so even than before.
    A man of breeding & civility should not  feel this way, yet I did all the same. This strange trip was growing stranger & stranger, as though we’d broken down on some forbidden access between the stream of the normal world & some other half-real macrocosm of deviant ravenings & staggering lust. August would brand such harrowing departures from generative normalcy as the by-product of a society losing sight of God; but as an atheist I see it