Goytisolo | Come closer

Come closer, darling, let me have a look at you, your presence is dazzling, you're as young and strong as ever, the Almighty is protecting you, you never change, you haven't changed, come here to me, I've missed you terribly, I've searched for you desperately, day and night, snuggle up closer, let me feel you, I can tell you have an erection, your scepter, your gnarled pilgrim's staff, my marshal's baton is stiff and hard, I want to mold it and polish it, to cure my fever once and for all, to bring its tasty honey to my lips, come, put your prick inside me, dig your spur into me, drill me with your tool, let's make love to each other as though possessed, the darkness is our mansion, put out the light that has guided me to you, the night, the solitude, the mice are enough for us, I'm chaste and modest, I don't want you to see me, your rod is tremendous, I'll take every last inch of it, I want it to exercise its prerogatives in the back of my throat, I'll take off my veil, my tulle headdress, my wig, my vocation requires discipline, the ability to relax and feel at ease, profound powers of concentration, an attribute such as yours is not for everyone, no novice could handle it, she'd fail instantly, she'd give up halfway through the test, she'd rake you with her incisors and canines, she'd gag, she'd puff and pant like a harpooned whale, false teeth get in the way and I can put mine in and take them out at will, store them away in their case, do my work without hindrance, with the kind assistance of the rodents' tiny tongues, vying with them for the privilege of tickling you and raising your tumulary rigor to its apotheosis, undertaking at last, blissful, confident, happy, overcome with emotion, in a fit of ecstasy, the illustrious deed, gradually causing your emblem to disappear from sight as if by magic, taking in the entire length of your incredible spear, that's the way, my love, don't move, don't pay any attention to the lights and the noise, it's no doubt beggars or sewer workers, come to hunt rats, to inspect the conduits, your good ten inches inside of me, it's as though my whole body were electrically charged, don't let your liqueur flow yet, hold it back a few seconds, I want to savor it, to be rejuvenated, to be like Dracula's beloved, or poor Doctor Frankenstein's, that movie we saw in Paris in a cheap, filthy neighborhood theater, remember, hab-ibi?, we went downstairs and you locked yourself in the John with me, we made it together for five minutes the way we're doing right now while all the other women waited outside, heaving enormous sighs, frustrated, frantic, literally hollow-eyed with envy, I was exhausted but you insisted on beginning all over again, a real barbarian, you wouldn't lay down your arms, driven by an inexplicable urge even though the others were whispering outside the door, spying on us through a hole, shouting that the police were coming, and I felt terribly proud of the gift that was bestowed on me, I thanked heaven above, I begged Fate not to separate us, I remember that when you'd finished you wiped your sword clean by rubbing it on the wall, there wasn't any water or paper, you came out before I did, confronted the chorus of Parcae, and I thought I'd find you again once I got back to our seats, but you were nowhere to be seen, you'd sneaked out of the theater and left me in the lurch, it's no use trying to play dumb now because I know it was you, a weapon like yours isn't that easily forgotten, it continues to hang in the panoply of one's memory, it retains its shamanistic powers through the years, your syrup is splendid, I bless the doctor who prescribed it, I down every last drop of it and lick the spoon, harking back to the days when there was rationing, your poor mousies are going to go hungry, do you realize that, you rascal?, you haven't lost your hard-on, it's still as stiff and persistent as before, I'm going to take off my clothes for it, for you, the Etincelle model from Pronuptia, the skirt with the ruffled train, the unconventional low-cut neckline, the rubber falsies, I want to ride it like a saddle, pump with my knees and elbows, there's no young chick more lithe and supple than I am, savoir faire can make up for one's lost youth if one has the will and the determination, no novice could compete with me, I'm a gold mine of know-how, an industrious spider with tentacles, my legs spread wide apart, just stay the way you are, never mind that they're staring at us, they're jealous of us, they're bored with the pap they get served at home, they'll never never know how sweet this molasses is, you've put it in me up to the hilt again, ach hada, d-dem?, I don't know what dem is, my love, but it's as though you'd deflowered me at my age, something's wrong with my insides these days, a touch of colitis perhaps, a little trickle of blood comes out sometimes, I'm going to wipe it up with a Kleenex, I always keep a packet of it handy, see there?, some came out, I'll throw it away, no? you want me to give it to you? you want to keep it? well, go ahead, it's all yours! an odd whim if I may say so, ah I get it, you don't need to tell me, I once went to a wedding way out in the desert, it's as though we'd gotten married, you'll show it to your family some day, the entire tribe will be overjoyed, they'll know I was a virgin when you took me all of a sudden they turned on the floodlights beams of glaring light projected from different angles, cameramen shouting and scurrying about, a commentary delivered in an emphatic tone of voice by a couple of reporters who advance toward you with smiling faces, microphone in hand: ladies and gentlemen, television viewers and radio listeners, Joe Brown and Ben Hughes of the PB News team, or words to that effect: as she abandons her kamasutric position in terror, attempts to cover her violated nakedness, oh heaven help me, my wig, my veil, the Etincelle gown, the rubber falsies, my bridal headdress!: this exclusive broadcast by PB News, Journey to the Center of the Earth, In the Bowels of Our City, is pleased to present to you an extraordinary couple who have sought happiness far from the hustle and bustle of daily life, an original couple who have made their home, like hundreds and thousands of rodents, in the kingdom of perpetual night!: affixing the falsies so hurriedly that they slide around to her back, pointing strabismally outward, putting the wig on hind side to, pulling her panties up, frantically donning the polyester crepe de Chine gown, grabbing up her leather handbag, forgetting in her haste to put her false teeth back in: the black doesn't move a muscle, imperturbably contemplates the frenetic activity round about him, seems to be floating in a state of down-cushioned drowsiness: his ace of spades maintains its rigidly erect position, his dusky hand is holding with singular delicacy what would appear to be a plain, ordinary Kleenex, and you scarcely blink an eye when the announcer exclaims my goodness and thrusts his toy in front of your face: how do you feel, sir?: a brief statement for our TV viewers and radio listeners?: but silence, silence, a vacant stare, a disturbing absence of ears, a throbbing, defiantly erect penis, and suddenly, wham, his jaws snap shut, his teeth bite down, he begins to devour the microphone voraciously, hey man, are you crazy?, consternation, commotion, screams, taking advantage of the confusion to flee, to disappear, to reel off like a moth blinded by the light, without the paschal candle, the headdress, shoes, false teeth, an old woman suddenly bowed down by the weight of years, hunchbacked because of the abnormal position of the tits, hey ma'am, miss, don't go away, our TV viewers and radio listeners are waiting for you, a few simple words of greeting, the city has its eyes fixed on you, don't disappoint the audience that is watching you and admiring you, it's your chance to let them get to know you, think of the millions of spectators, be nice to them, smile, give them at least a smile