cutting irony.
We fell again onto the bed; but Teresa, more agile than I, refused to let herself be cornered and defended herself much better against my virility than she had against my fist. She continued to play and was bubbling over with an extraordinary youth and vitality.
“Aha!” she said mockingly. “First you treat me like a whore and then you want to fuck me! No! No! My fine fellow! Whores don't screw, they only piss hot. Better be careful, my pretty blond, or I'll get bitchy with you.”
“Fine! Go ahead!” I said through my teeth.
“Look!” she said, still playing her role. “Look how much hair I have under my arms: I know women who don't have as much on their pussies. You want to make love to me in there? You'll come very nicely. No? Then you must want my old whore's teats?”
“Not that old saw again.”
“Look, here are my whore's teats. Stick your dick between them. I'll press them together… You like that? Do they do their job well, my whore's teats? Listen, sonny, you give me a hundred sous in advance and you can come on my face. Okay?”
“Watch out! I'll do it without warning you!”
“Or would you rather come in my mouth? It's the same price. And I'll give you a pretty little working over with my tongue all around. You like that? I'll lick your balls and your ass and suck your dick afterwards. No? Not that either? You must have religion. You must be afraid to go confess that you've come in the mouth of a woman. Well, we can always do something else. How would you like me to beat myself off, my little whoremonger?”
That did it. That was the straw on the camel's back for me, though the height of fun for Teresa.
“How would you like me to kill you?”
“Oh! That's even more expensive than beating me!” she howled in a burst of laughter.
Deciding to finish this action on the field of battle, I grabbed Teresa and started to force her thighs apart. Seriously, this time, she cried, “No! Don't fuck me!”
“Because?”
A sudden anger rose in her eyes, she seized my arms and began to shout:
“Because, here, tonight, I'm not a whore, you understand? When a woman who wants to come rubs her body against a man with a hard-on, she gives herself through “the hole that she wants! And if I get more pleasure from being cornholed, and if I want to be cornholed, then you'll cornhole me!”
The violence of her words should have made me so angry that I would never have left her any liberty of either wish or action after hearing them. However, the sorceress didn't leave me any time to think about what I might do. Her agility in movement and position were a wonder, and I soon found that, for the second time since I had met her, I was in her body I knew not where.
Immediately, she said in her most tender voice and with her softest expression, “Please don't do me the disservice of coming now.”
“It's all that you deserve.”
“So! A pretty woman gives a man her asshole and what does she get? After a minute he says, 'I'm getting out, you can finish the best way you know how.'“
“Wait a minute! About an hour ago you did” exactly the same thing to me…! I waited, but…”
“You're a love.”
Then, in the same voice, she continued:
“You disgust me.”
“Same to you.”
“Now I'll tell you why Charlotte and I…”
“No!”
“Yes! I want to tell you while I've got your prick in my ass. The truth is that… we were both hot last night. I wasn't in quite the state that she was, but… You saw didn't you?”
“Maybe.”
“And now?”
I remained silent. Then suddenly, with one of those unexpected crescendos that always announced another brutal verbal assault, she cried:
“And now can't you see that I'm as hot as a two-dollar pistol? Can't you see that I came here to rape you, that I threw off all my clothes', that I let you treat me like a whore, that I let you fuck me, that I let you beat me, and that finally I put your prick in where I wanted it and that now I'm beating off in your arms even more than Charlotte? Can't you see that? And the come that I give you… When you have more on the outside of your balls than within, will I have to tell you that I've shot my wad?”
IX
Trying to mount a wild-woman like that is as dangerous as trying to ride a horse to the hunt that has suddenly gone crazy. The only difference is that when you are riding a horse, about the only thing you risk breaking is a leg or an arm, while riding Teresa was ten times more dangerous, since she was bucking so hard or, to speak more exactly, had such a fire in her behind that on at least twenty occasions she came within a hair of breaking something far more valuable to me than an arm.
In fact, I was so afraid of an accident, that my life began to flash before my eyes exactly as if I were about to drown. And I began to think of everything at once, even the least little details that I would have had plenty of time to consider the next day.
I will list here a brief resume of the high points of my mental excursion for those who are as yet uninitiated to this phenomenon:
1. I never suffered so much, even when I was taking the cherry of Miss X — from the front.
2. She's going to cripple me. What to do? Hold her in? Impossible. Gentle her? Even more difficult.
3. My God, but she's beautiful!
4. I never knew I was so young and clumsy! Imagine never catching on to her game all that time. Last night I thought she was faking passion in order to excite Charlotte and her game was real. This evening she came to me, stripped herself on my bed and until the very last minute I didn't know what she wanted. She had to shout at me at the top of her voice, “Can't you see that I'm hot to go?” And I blushed. I was ashamed.
5. She can do whatever she wants with me and she knows it. Yesterday I was revolted by her. She came back this evening. I was determined to give her the gate and now look what has happened! How is this night going to finish?
Teresa regained her senses quickly; soon enough to hold me where I was in her, anyway. Most women share this instinct but are ignorant of the fact that in those moments when they hold their lovers immediately after the act of love their love is the most reciprocated. Teresa, as usual, knew what she was doing.
She neither asked for a word nor a kiss. She saw that I was careful to leave a distance between our lips, and she sensed that I was not caressing her body, rather only touching it. And that was treating her more as a whore than was calling her the name. Too adroit to whisper an imprudent “Tell me you love me!” that would ring hollow and false, she seemed rather to accept my touches with pleasure. She opened her thighs wide to the hand that wandered distractedly there, her stomach shuddered, she closed her eyes and finally said in a voice at once both confused and ashamed, “I drenched your bed, my love!”
How can a young man keep from embracing a woman who speaks to him like that while she's lying in his arms? He either has to refrain from sleeping with her… or not be twenty years old. And the kiss that unites mouth to mouth so far surpasses all other unions between lovers that only Teresa could at that point measure its strength against me.
Thus, sure of herself for the future and no longer worrying about seeing my door shut to her, she left my room.
After several minutes that seemed more like several hours she returned as nude as she had left. I thought that she had gone into my adjoining room and I didn't find out until later that she had gone into her
