by
M. Zora
She says, “Come over here and give me some pussy” and suddenly, little Pinocchio feet start jerking and high stepping in my groin. I’m annoyed by her crudeness, shocked by my physical response to it. She is insistent, demanding, horny. The relentlessness of her assault deprives me of the time I need to build the walls I rely on for safety. If those walls don’t block her view, she’s gonna have the chance to find out what’s lurking in the dark, dank inside this cave. Is there a rank monster, or are there skeletons? Not the figurative kind, but the actual remains of living things I’ve killed or which have died because of my oppressive control. “If she keeps pushing me, she’s gonna find out, and it’ll be no one’s fault but her own.” That’s MY FEAR talking. MF is a big bitch, hard to shut up and the enemy of love. But, I’m fighting that bitch, like every day.

The other night my woman brought me to a screaming orgasm, as she has so many times before. (How strange to be at a point where I can almost, (almost) take a screaming orgasm for granted!) Like it has since my very first experience of cumming, my clitoris ran to hide after the climax, like a scared rabbit, back into its’ hole, behind my pelvic bone. And my woman understood this sensitivity, because she is a woman, with a clit that reacts similarly. But she is also a living ancestor, and sexually wise. She knows shit instinctively, I’ve never even thought to study – she’s got emotional and sexual capital in spades. So, rather than cease and desist her frigging, rather than holding me, she continued with her finger, continued with her encouraging words. And somehow I began to know that there was something on the other side of this sensation, something huge, and maybe mind-altering, but not death, not a dead thing. For the first time I was able to not say no – and if you don’t say no long enough, when you’re as inclined to as I am, it turns into a yes.

And so I’m yessing, and she’s frigging and I feel my clit reinventing itself – and it becomes something much more like a penis than I’ve ever known it could be. And this feeling has a sound, and it’s a crackling, snapping metallic kind of sound. And the look of this feeling has something to do with lightning, and something to do with static electricity and something to do with those crazy circus guns I loved to play with as a child – the barrel all full of streaking sparks, leaping in response to my finger cranking the trigger. And I do feel like a loaded weapon, but I’m not expecting bullets to come out. I’m going to ejaculate, something pointed, hotter than a stream of urine, and more forceful. Some kind of piercing beam of hot light, but not a laser; that’s too modern. I’m talking about the kind of light emitted by a star millions of miles from earth, but still so powerful, pyramids are built to bathe in it, from antiquity, into perpetuity. Only, I’m not on earth waiting for the light to arrive. I’m at the fucking star. Matter of fact, I’m fucking this fucking star. It’s all up in my guts and that light is trying to bust out of my clit, and when it does it will be a sword between my legs. I will be the baddest bitch on the block, hung like an African goddess. I’ll slay dragons, I’ll slay bigots. I’ll slay the 9 to 5 grind and help people see that this kind of grind is so much more worthwhile because it actually gives something real back.

I’m going there, I’m going there. Can’t keep my eyes open, can’t keep ‘em closed. Words are leaving me, got the jimmy legs. I know she’s looking right at me and I don’t give a fuck. And even with all of this momentum, all this promised power, I allow fear to win this battle. I shut it all down before crossing over. But damnit, I’m not kicking myself, ‘cuz this shit takes time. It’s not easy to step out on faith. This night I have seen the promised land, and goddamn it if I’m not gonna get there. Over there I’m gonna see my ancestors. Over there I’m gonna see the future. A grandchild with my eyes may be waiting over there. A new kind of vision may be over there. All that running from the altar and from the spirit, to end up here, fucked into a shout, out of control. I’m telling you, my people, catharsis is gonna come some kind of way. We are our great-grandmothers’ children, regardless of the layers of time and ugly, materialistic culture that cling to us like dead skin.

Oh God, I pray that in the hour of their oppression, the slaves and the Indians had this; that they managed to keep and know this joy. That exhausted and beaten, they were able to escape to a knowledge of self and spiritual freedom through each other’s bodies. This is some survival shit here. This is some pemmican, some high-energy travel food, some concentrated nutrients mixed with deer fat, goes straight to the bloodstream to give energy for the hunt. Some pulsing liver, some rich placenta – do you hear me? Something funky and nourishing and necessary. This loving is food, basic and magical and it’s blowing my fucking mind. And I’m so happy, shouting happy to feel these gates clanging open. How on earth will I ever be able to go back to pretending? When you don’t know you just don’t know, but once you know . . . shit, you better stand up and shout about it.

The End

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