The Haunted Vagina (2 page)

The day I found out she loved me was the first day we made love. We were walking in the park blocks, down by the art museum, talking about music. She told me she wanted to build a theremin and start a band. I asked if I could be in her band. She said no. She wanted to play Schubert and Debussy on the theremin, and said that I wouldn’t fit in. Then we talked about how she planned to give a theremin rendition of Death and the Maiden, and how she wanted to incorporate it into bondage performance.

As we were walking, we passed a grubby homeless man. Probably forty years old, sleeping on a park bench, shivering, wet. I recognized him. His name was Donut. Or at least I’ve heard his friends address him as Donut. Without thinking, I took off my coat and wrapped it around him. It was odd, because I haven’t even given change to the homeless in years. When I first moved to Portland, I used to almost daily. If I had change and somebody asked for it, I would give it to them. But I eventually stopped. Mostly because I stopped using cash and was paying for everything with a debit card. I just didn’t have change to give away. But they kept asking. Corner after corner, day after day. When I did have change to give, they wouldn’t thank me for it. When I apologized for not having change, they would get pissed off and spit on my shoes. Donut happened to be the worst of them. He was a stocky black guy with a bright orange sweater who strolled around Pioneer Square. He wouldn’t ask me for change outright. First, he would ask me if I had a problem with black people. I would say no. He would then ask me for money. Then I would give it to him, as if that was proof that I truly did not have a problem with black people. He would follow me for a block and ask for a little more. I would give him whatever I had, even a dollar or two. Then he’d ask for a little more. If I ever refused him, he would call me a racist.

He’d say, “Oh, I see now, you’re a skinhead. Well, sieg heil, skinhead!” He’d continue yelling at me until I was two blocks away. “Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!”

So, after half a dozen confrontations like that, I avoided all interaction with the homeless. I didn’t even make eye contact. But on that day, walking in the park blocks, I gave my $200 coat to Donut, the same homeless guy who called me a racist for not giving him money.

I’m not sure why I did it. I didn’t want to give him the coat. I didn’t do it because I had something to prove. I just saw a guy freezing on a park bench, covered him with my coat, and continued on. Maybe it was because I was with Stacy. Maybe I was just so happy walking next to her that it made me want to make somebody else happy, too. I don’t know.

But after she saw me give away my coat as if it were the most common thing to do in the world, Stacy stopped me in the park, leaned down and kissed me as deeply as she possibly could, and then she told me that she loved me with her shiny dark eyes.

That night, we made love, and the next thing I knew she was moving her big fluffy bed into my place.

Not long after that, I ran into Donut again. He was still calling me a Nazi, wearing my $200 coat over his orange sweater. I couldn’t stop smiling at him. He sieg heiled me and I just smiled back. I could tell it just pissed him off even more, because he threatened to beat the crap out of me, but I was just so happy that morning that nothing could possibly bother me.

CHAPTER TWO

I haven’t had sex with Stacy for over a month now, but I’m still crazy for her. I still love everything about her. Her smell, her smile, the sound of her voice. She has unique ways of doing things that are so cute I want to cry.

Like, this is the way she eats a burger from Carl’s Jr:

First, she’ll wipe off all of the mustard, mayonnaise and ketchup with a plastic butter knife and swirl it into a puddle on the burger’s wrapper. Then she’ll disassemble the burger and cut the buns into small squares. She’ll stab a piece of bun with a fork, then stab one other ingredient. Either a chunk of meat, some cheese, a pickle, a tomato, or lettuce. Then she’ll swirl the food in the sauce and eat it.

“I like my food separated,” she always says. “I like to control the flavor.”

She does that with all her food. Pizza, burritos, sandwiches, lasagna, even curry stews. It’s incredibly cute. I also have a quirky way of eating. Whenever I take a bite of food, I never let my lips touch the eating utensil. I just use my teeth. Stacy doesn’t think it’s cute, though. She hates the sound of my teeth scraping against a metal fork. She always tells me to stop. I don’t stop, though, because she’s even cuter when she’s annoyed.

Other cute things about her:

She pets every animal she ever sees in public. She dances naked to Prince. She licks her glasses clean before she reads. She adores public transportation and gets excited whenever she sees a bus stop, or the light rail. She gives tips to everyone including cooks, bus drivers, fast food employees, and flight attendants, whether they are allowed to accept tips or not. Though she usually tips pretty low. She calls water pouring from faucets waterfalls. She collects doll houses. She plays with her eyelashes. She loves goldfish and likes to stare at them in their bowls making fish-faces at them, mimicking them when they open and close their mouths at her as if to communicate.

The only thing that kind of annoys me is that she tends to order steak at seafood restaurants, lobster at steak houses, burgers at Mexican restaurants, fajitas at burger joints, sushi at Chinese restaurants, chow mein at Japanese restaurants, and hot dogs whenever they are available on a menu at any restaurant. Especially when she drags me out to eat German food, which I hate, and then orders a chicken caesar salad and clam chowder.

She does the same thing to me with Russian food, but she has so much fun talking to the employees in Russian that I completely enjoy myself, even when I have to eat beet salad and ham pickle soup.

She’s the best person in the world to be around when she’s happy.

CHAPTER THREE

After a while, not having sex has taken its toll on our relationship.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she says.

“I’m just not comfortable with it,” I say.

I tell her we can do other things. Both of us are interested in giving anal sex, but neither of us are interested in receiving it. She’s tried her strap-on with me before and it was far from pleasurable. I’m not going to do that again.

Same goes with oral sex. We both like to receive it, but neither of us want to give it. Normally we can compromise on oral. If I give it to her, she will give it to me. Unfortunately, I’m not willing to go near her vagina anymore. Not with my penis, not with my tongue.

“It’s not like you have to stick your tongue inside of me,” she says. “You can just lick my glowworm.”

Glowworm is her pet name for a clitoris.

“It’s on the outside,” she says.

“But still . . .” I say.

“I’ll keep my legs closed,” she says. “You won’t even hear it.”

I don’t reply. She turns away from me and takes off her work clothes, as if I agreed. Folding her glasses and putting them back in their case. Her movements are cold and mechanical. She must be pissed. Giving me the silent treatment like the time I washed her white fuzzy coat wrong, or the time she found pictures of my old girlfriends and I wouldn’t let her throw them out. On those occasions, she ignored me and locked herself in the bedroom. On this occasion, however, she wants to get intimate. She won’t look me in the eyes as she unbuttons my shirt and pulls off my pants.

She picks me up and turns me upside-down, then plops us on the bed. I don’t know how she’s able to lift me. She’s much taller than me and weighs a bit more, but she’s not muscular. She’s soft and slender. Both of us are.

In sixty-nine position, it’s a bit awkward. I’m on top this time and her legs are closed. My tongue scratches against wiry black pubic hair while searching for her glowworm. I feel a bit safe with her thighs pressed together tightly, but my tongue has to dig between them to find the right spot. Stacy kisses the backs of my thighs. Because of my height, her mouth can’t really reach my penis while I’m on top. But she kisses my legs and licks my ass.

“It’s not working,” I say, as she nibbles on my scrotum.

She lifts my ass and twists her neck until she can get beneath me and take my penis into her mouth. I mostly just feel teeth. A bad angle. Her front teeth dig into the skin, killing any sort of erection I almost had. Her legs part slightly. I’m able to find her clit and twirl my tongue around it. She’s more wet then I expected. Must be horny as hell. I don’t have to do much. She hasn’t had sex for so long that riding a bicycle would probably give her an orgasm.

She groans around my penis. I look back to see she’s making a fish face at me. Fish lips around my dick like she would make while looking in the goldfish bowl. I don’t know if she’s trying to be sexy with that face or what, but for some reason it gives me a full erection. Maybe it’s just exciting to see her beautiful tan lips wrapped around me.

I go back to the glowworm and suck it into my mouth, slurping it and the skin around it as deep into my mouth as it will stretch. Then I release it, then suck it in again. I do that to the rhythm of her blow job. And inside of my mouth, I tickle it with my tongue and the glowworm dances happily between my lips.

Stacy spreads her legs a little more. I don’t know if it is on purpose or by accident. I can see the crack of her vagina completely now, staring up at me as I lick.

There’s a rumbling inside of it. Like a mild earthquake in the distance. The lips spread and a voice calls out to me. I lick Stacy as fast as I can, trying to get her to orgasm quickly so I can get away from her vagina. The voice grows louder. I struggle on top of her, but Stacy grips me by the waist so that I can’t go anywhere and takes me deeper into her mouth.

I close my eyes. Forget the sights and sounds, just concentrate on the feelings. Concentrate on my flesh inside of Stacy’s mouth. Concentrate on her flesh inside of my mouth. I’m getting close to orgasm. Stacy is too. I let my worries slide completely as she squeezes her thighs tightly together, preparing to cum.

Something bumps inside her. Something pushes at my chin and knocks the glowworm out of my lips. Pissed off, Stacy slaps the side of my ass as hard as she can. I continue. Her belly pushes against me, like there’s something moving in her womb. The flesh balloons outward. I try to ignore it. Stacy’s doing something perfectly with her mouth. I don’t feel her teeth at all and she’s able to take me all the way down. There’s no way I’m going to stop her.

Her belly expands, lifting me up several inches. I think Stacy realizes something odd is going on, too, but she can’t stop either. She feels nine months pregnant now. Her skin stretching to its limit. No, it keeps stretching. She’s getting almost twice as pregnant. Stacy orgasms and jerks her head back, cries out against my asshole. Then she puts me back in her mouth and whines as she sucks. Something is moving inside of her. I’m shifted side to side, but I’m so close. So close . . .

I explode into her mouth as a hand explodes out of the vagina. I shriek and jump backward, landing on top of Stacy’s head. My penis shoved completely down her throat, cumming inside her. She gags, choking, and shoves me off.

I hit the floor. Stacy coughs my cum out of her lungs. I look up at her as she coughs, mouth wide open, unable to say a word. She stands and examines her belly as it shuffles. It moves about like it’s filled with a million cockroaches. And between her legs, a skeletal hand is reaching out of her.

“What the fuck!” finally comes out of me, as I crawl away.

Stacy just watches her body in amazement as the hand clutches onto her leg and pulls. Another hand emerges and grabs her other thigh, trying to pull itself out of there.