This is chapter 28, part 2 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.
Chapter 28 – Part 2, What Love Is
I dumped PP’s genitals into a jar and added alcohol. The alcohol clouded with blood and PP’s testicles floated out of the sac when I swirled the jar around. I sent a message to the Estrella asking how to contact a taxidermist. I’d display his genitals proudly in my room, with his name in big letters on the plaque.
* * *
I received a message from Rosa. Brett had caught her cheating, he had moved out, and she wants my help. I reply I’ll try, in exchange for a fuck. Of course, I don’t really mean that, at least I don’t think I do. In any case, I can’t fuck, but I’d love to put my face in her vulva again. But I don’t really mean it, I don’t want to fuck my son’s wife, I just want to see what she says. When she says “yes” in her return message, I’m saddened but not surprised.
I will help her, I’ll talk with my son, try to convince him there are much worse fates than living with a slut. Rosa is an amazing woman, a truly great slut, he should keep her. If I were him, I would die to keep her. I won’t tell him to give her just one more chance, because she’ll need an infinity of new chances. I’ll tell him to get used to it, to learn to enjoy it. Neither our son nor Rosa know María left me for PP, that PP castrated me to take her–this will be a difficult conversation with my son. He should keep Rosa, she’s an incredible slut. I decided to ask María for advice.
I called María and we decided to meet that afternoon in Ciudad Vieja. I caught the buses to Ciudad Vieja, and met María and her black lover beside the Temple. We sat on the concrete planters around the trees in the courtyard. Copulating beetles scurried by, mocking me with what María and I should have been doing. The Temple’s crosses threw shadows on the ground that advanced towards us like pitchforks. María still wore our engagement ring and wedding band. At least the black guy didn’t wear my wedding band.
I started the conversation by threatening her lover–I told him I was still her husband and I’m bound by law and by love to protect María. He can fuck her all she wants, but if he ever mistreats María, I’ll have him killed. If he wants to leave her some day, he should do it nicely and cleanly, but never mistreat her.
The black guy and María looked at each other and smiled and he graciously accepted the opportunity to step away when I asked for privacy with María. María was unperturbed by my threats to her lover – she said he was an international martial arts competitor, and he’d easily tear me to pieces if I provoked him.
We discussed our son’s and Rosa’s situation. We decided I must convince our son it’s a woman’s very nature to have multiple lovers, it’s normal, and it won’t diminish Rosa’s love for him, or my granddaughter. María gave me permission to progressively reveal aspects of our own marriage–that she was a hot, sexy dancer that fucked her dance partners, she had multiple casual lovers that I knew about and helped her control these affairs, and so on.
As a last resort, I could reveal I wasn’t his true father. Our son surely knew María had cheated me on occasion. In San Francisco, she came in late some nights, clothes, makeup and hair totally messed-up and he saw that. After those nights, he was upset for a few days and would argue with and disrespect her.
I shouldn’t ever tell him María left me, I had been castrated, or any other outcome that reflected a bad ending to slutty behavior. We wanted them to stay together, and for our son to give Rosa the same freedom I had given María. Of course, the truth was María had forcefully taken her freedom from me. I wanted to tell our son Rosa was a special slut and he should grovel at her vulva, but I didn’t know how to say it.
* * *
María said, “The Estrella told me you have a woman with something very special.”
“Yes, she’s staggeringly cute, what you must have looked like before I met you. She makes men’s groins twist-up inside just like you do. She looks like she’s 16, she provokes the latent pedophile in all men, but she’s in first-year med school, so I guess she’s legal age. She won’t tell me her age, and I can’t imagine what she wants with an old, crippled man like me. And she has a penis–I guess that’s the special thing the Estrella mentioned.”
“He’s a transvestite.”
“No, she’s a woman”
“Urr, ok, does she love you?”
“She says she loves me. I’m the only man that has ever understood her.”
“But she doesn’t have a vulva, and you don’t have a penis. How will you fuck her?”
“She said she loves me. Maybe a woman with a penis needs a man with a vagina. I’ll ask the Estrella if I can still do that.”
María joked, “If you have a vulva, and can kiss like a woman, wow, that’s a temptation. Let me know–as long as you let me have as many penises as I want.”
“I always have.”
“Do you love her?”
“La amo hasta la muerte.” (I love her as deep as death).
“More than you loved me?”
I laughed, “You mean more than I love you now. No, not even close. No other woman could ever get close to you. But she’ll do just fine until I get you back.”
“Well, you need to choose carefully, you may get stuck with her because I’ll never come back to you. But the Estrella said she was beautiful and simpática. I’m not surprised she has a penis. I always thought a penis would finally get you. I knew from the start you would be weak for penises, that’s why I forbade you to touch them.”
“Just like you are weak for vulvas? I bet you have woman lovers now. Wait till you meet her – she’ll twist up your groin like she does mine. You’ll fight me for her, then you may get lost in her vulva, urr, her penis. Weak for penises? I wasn’t homosexual, if that’s what you meant. Marikarina is like you. Only a penis attached to a woman like you could ever knock me over. Her penis is really a confused vulva, and I’m the one who’s confused. But I’d trade that for you in an eye-blink, even if you don’t love me anymore. Did you ever love me?”
“I wanted you since the first moment I saw you. Why do you think I tormented you continuously? I flashed my body at you, teased you, tempted you every way I could. But you were so slow, unsure, you could have had me long before–how could you not have known I wanted you?
“That’s called prick teasing, and I was the prick. But that’s not what I asked. You wanted me, but did you ever love me?”
“What’s the difference?”
“What’s the difference! I don’t know. I thought you’d know. Women always know, have to know. You have to tell me, I’ve wanted to know this my whole life. You have to tell me!”
“I don’t know, I thought you would tell me someday.”
I still didn’t know what love is and she didn’t know so she couldn’t save me. Maybe it wasn’t our fault, maybe it was that holy-roller’s penis in my mouth when I was six, or maybe her father’s finger in her vagina when she was three. But no–we could have, should have, gotten beyond that. It was us, there was no one else to blame.
* * *
We sat in depressing silence for a few moments. I asked, “So how did you find this black guy?”
“You sent me to him.”
“You remember the first black man that seduced me at the salsa dance club right after we got married? We talked about him before PP and I went to Rio de Janeiro.”
“Yes, of course, how would I ever forget him, he was my first penis suck. He almost converted me to joto!”
“Well, in Rio, the beach was full of muscular black guys in speedos, and I fucked a couple before PP caught me.”
“Once a whore, always a…”
“Don’t you dare say that!” she laughed, “When we returned from Rio, I contacted the dance club black guy, and we started again.”
“But how did you find him?”
“You gave him to me. While you were in France, I went through our old photos and memories. Do you know you have hundreds of photos of me and us from when we were first married? Well anyway, I found your favorite books from that time, and his phone was on a note you used as a bookmark in the book you always wanted me to read…”
“No the other one, something about Zen…”
“Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.”
“Yes. I recognized his name on the bookmark and kept the note. When we returned from Rio, I called the number, got his sister, who gave me his phone. When I called him, he immediately remembered me, and he came here to see me.”
“After all these years, just like that?”
“He left his wife and kids and never returned. We put him here in Ciudad Vieja, close by but out of PP’s sight.”
“Me. I took money from PP to support him. I spent my afternoons with him while PP worked in Guate city, it was heaven.”
“Once and always a slut.”
“Yes, always a slut. PP discovered us, of course, and hit me. And I moved here with him.”
“I´m sure PP won’t bother you again. Was the black guy worth it? Is he that good?”
“Better in some ways. He’s not as energetic as the first time, but has a smoothness and softness now that’s delicious. The funny thing is we’re not really in love, at least I’m not in love. We just love to fuck each other, and he makes me forget my hurt. He remembers you, your first penis suck. He thought you were totally insane, letting him fuck me, then sucking his penis. You were … we were, insane then.”
Now I was crying.
End of book content.
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