This is chapter 29, part 4 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.
Living with Marías
I walked back to my new apartment and walked around the neighborhood looking for stores. I bought flowers, candles, bubble bath and massage oil, special shampoos to fix the estrellitas mistreated hair, and some take-out Arab dishes.
When I returned back to my new home, one of the girls, estrellita-bubbly, the one of the fragrant panty, was already in the house. She was very excited, she had just received her residency assignment, starting that very night, the graveyard shift. She needed to cleanup, eat and prepare to go to the hospital. I told her that I had bought a special shampoo and conditioner for her hair, might I shampoo her hair? I had named her ‘bubbly’ for good reason, she accepted excitedly and squealed about the idea that we’d have a bubble bath celebration of her new assignment. I drew her bath, she began to undress somewhat timidly in front of me until she remembered that I had been in her vulva several times. I shampooed and massaged her hair, then washed her back.
I told her I had smelt and tasted her panty, that it was delicious. She said, “You really are a sicko pervert. You shouldn’t do that—the next time you do that … uhh … never mind, I’ll bring my panties to you, I want to watch! But you need to be punished for not asking me first. You probably think you know how nasty a whore can get. You have no idea–I’m going to be the world’s nastiest whore with you, and you have to take it and love it!”
Bubbly started suddenly and covered her breasts with her hands. The estrellita-blondie had come in and watched us from the doorway, her face a blank mask. Bubbly realized the absurdity of the situation, uncovered her breasts and started giggling, which provoked Blondie to laugh, and everyone relaxed. The sexual ice was broken between us, we would be OK.
When Bubbly finished her bath, she sat in a bathrobe, and I dried, brushed, and stroked her hair, then massaged her neck and shoulders. Her hair had been mistreated, didn’t shine, but I knew it would look great in a few days. She didn’t have whorepool eyes yet, but I knew I would be sane with these estrellitas. We heated the take-out dishes I had brought and talked about their work schedules–Blondie had the evening shift, Bubbly the graveyard shift. They had just one car, so I volunteered to take them and pick them up anytime it was dark, I would walk them in and out the door of the hospital. We would have a late brunch together each morning, I would be pleased to try out some new recipes on them.
The estrellitas were, like The Estrella, super smart, but just passably pretty. Well, just Bubbly. Bubbly had a smile that would light-up a football stadium, and her laughter was the effervescence sound of champagne. Her big, round eyes would someday become whorepools, the type that could rescue any man from himself. With me, she would have lots of practice.
Blondie’s hair was stressed by constant bleaching, it would never be soft and shiny, and always seemed to have dark roots showing at the scalp. Otherwise, she was pretty ordinary, like me. But her face was a window to her thoughts and emotions. If she liked you, you knew it. She did like me, or at least thought I was redeemable. Or at least worth the trade-off of those blissful moments when she guided my mouth around her vulva. My bliss, and hers.
Both these girls were erotically titillated by my eagerness to clean semen from their vulvae, a challenge to them to find a penis before coming to me, and to jerk and convulse afterward.
I sat with the estrellitas at the table, listening to their musical prattle about their new assignments, and then, young woman stuff. Just the sound of their voices was soothing and erotic. They efficiently cut-up a few of their colleagues and teachers, criticized the new uniforms for the ER staff, then moved smoothly into the penis size, curvature and erectile hardness of some of the interns they had recently tried-out. Then there was a moment of awkward silence as they realized I might be sensitive to talk about penises. I had been doodling, drawing pictures of the penises they described, and I showed them my doodles, and they took-off again. I felt sorry for the boys, they had no idea they were being so viciously dissected by these amazing women. Their Spanish rolled around my ears like music.
Living with a María-Spirit
As I doodled, I thought about what I’d say to my son about Rosa’s latest penis adventures. Rosa was a María-Spirit – living with her should be a simple process. Among the penis doodles I wrote:
The process of living a life of joy with a María-Spirit was so simple and guaranteed. Rosa is such a woman.
- The woman chooses you, you accept, you dedicate your life to pleasing her.
- At least once a week, you kneel before her, bury your face in her vulva, cry and beg her to forgive you for your inadequacies. This is not a confession, you don’t need to say the details, she already knows.
- You work to please her, you play to please her, you give her children to please her, you provide her whatever she needs to please her.
- How much is enough? When you please her just to compound her previous pleasure, you’re getting close. If she asks you for your life and you give it, it’s enough.
- You love her as deep as death, and you make love to her accordingly.
- If you find another man’s semen in her vulva, you honor him because he pleased her. You clean his semen with ‘cariño’; you don’t ask who or why – she’ll tell you if and when you deserve to know.
- You learn to make love to her to please her. Don’t worry, she’ll teach you. You don’t ask for her throat or anus, she’ll give that and much more to you when you earn it. (Hint: she’ll give you everything, not just her body. You have no idea how ‘rico’ that will be!)
- She’ll understand you far better than you know yourself. She’ll give you rules – don’t be a clever fool, obey her rules.
- If you screw up, go immediately to the second rule, face in vulva. If you don’t, you’ll destroy yourself on the false detour.
- In spite of her divinity, she’s still human, she’ll still make errors and mistakes, sometimes horrible ones. Forget them. If she begs for forgiveness, for your love again, grant it immediately, in advance if possible, before the words get out of her mouth otherwise. Don’t lose her over anything less than taking your life. If you lose her, take your own life–far preferable to the misery you’ll endure otherwise. Being saved by your María-Spirit surpasses all other joys: drugs, sex, religion, etc. They don’t even come close.
- If you really screw-up and she doesn’t offer her vulva to your face, immediately begin kissing her feet. It usually, but not always, works. I recalled Jack Kerouac, who once wrote, “The world would never find peace until men fell at their women’s feet and asked for forgiveness.”
- If you have to be told to never hit her or physically abuse her, you’re too stupid, too Penis, to be reading this. Please do yourself and humanity a favor by killing yourself. Don’t worry, no one except your mother will notice you’re gone, and even she will know it’s for the best.
- Remember that many women are not María-spirits. They are Penis-women, full of spite and jealousy, and envy and violence. Especially the ‘world-savers’–if they can’t even save just you, imagine the havoc they’ll wreck on the rest of the world. Run the other direction–let the Penises have them, the perfect match made in hell.
Remember, the Marías and María-spirits will choose whose genes to propagate into the future. They may not be yours. And if she chooses not to send any man into the future, she can take her affection and body to another woman, she has an outstanding selection of women.
Living with a María
Those are the simple rules for María-spirits. For the true Marías, there’s some additional rules. How do you know if she’s a true María? That’s easy: however handsome, sexy, confident, refined, and educated you might be; even if you were just voted the world’s most handsome, sexy man–if you feel like a dirty dish rag in her presence, she’s a María.
- If you get a shot at a María, take it, whatever the cost, however ordinary you may be. You’ll live the rest of your life on a roller coaster. And you’ll be the envy of every man that sees you.
- Men will flock to her – if you haven’t fulfilled all of the above, you’re toast.
- Men will attack her relentlessly, probe her for the smallest weakness. If they find the smallest opening, they will insert their penises there. Accept that, and learn to honor their semen. But if she wants you to fight for her, be fearless and fierce. You may be beaten, lose you genitals, lose your life, but if you desperately want her, you will win. It’s worth it, fight for her.
If you follow all of the above, she’ll keep you, save you, please you. Congratulations, you the luckiest, happiest man on the planet. You’re the .001 percent.
End of book content.
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