LOOK BOTH WAYS
4
And I will wash the feet of they who teach and care for me, he thought.
Then slowly, with his hands remaining resting on her buttocks, he slowly knelt down on the soft carpet. Her full and natural femaleness filled his gaze and he smiled.
Perfect. She was perfect.
Gently his fingers tensed on her warm skin, again signalling intent to come.
‘Oh!’ she gasped softly. ‘Please? Where are you from?’ It was a gasp, with its natural tension mounting.
He smiled, as he felt his own combustion climb into the stirrups of natural lust and passion with her. Where was he from? Where was his home? He wondered, often.
His home was like a mustard seed of parables that had never worked, until only one seed began to take root, in the beginning; to grow and then to flourish, if only the smallest of all seeds. He knew that, but he could not remember exactly where home was.
Yet when the seed falls on discovered tilled soil, it gathers friends of like nature to produces a great plant that becomes a natural shelter for wingless birds of the sky, and for those who have loved him and had been loved by him, when he had found not one seed, when he had discovered no tillable soil. The unnatural beneath any seeds existing had been barren of all natural nutrients and nourishment. To garden is to then help all to grow.
His fingers took heed of his imagination’s instincts and gently began to spread her body widely.
‘Ooohh, God!’ she moaned. ‘Oh, Jesus!’
He smiled inside and leaned his face fully forward into her apex junction dark carpet heat. Then he relaxed his grasp on her flesh and let her close her natural self about himself.
‘Oohh, Jesus!’ she groaned, and her gut trembled.
He felt it fully about his face, as he inhaled the radiating heat of her natural liquid combustible female essence and then extended his tongue to taste her natural vineyard, personally, whenever, wherever, and however he wanted. She pushed herself backward into him, but he held her firmly, exactly where he wanted her. And then, he touched her with the very tip of his tongue.
‘My, God!’ she groaned, as if in agony, as he tipped her.
Again she pushed back at him, this time, forcefully. Yet again, he held her exactly where he wanted her, and he did want her, knowing, as he knew she knew, that it was not a matter of if, but when.
‘Oh, yes! Please!’ she moaned in her mounting urgency.
He tipped her more deeply in urgent and penetrating movements, once, twice, three times, then four, and then held himself buried halfway inside her, savouring the ability to taste and feel a natural female in heat, after thirty years in the desert of chosen deprivation.
Come unto me, he recalled, for my yoke is easy and my mastership is mild. And you will find repose for yourself.
‘Oh! Oh! Oohh! Jesus!’ she cried out, with each deepening tip of his tongue.
He smiled inside for her joy. It was his heart’s joy, too.
When will heaven come? They had asked him that. He smiled sadly, knowing it had arrived with them at birth, and would not come to re-emergence, by waiting for it. It would not be a matter of saying, ‘Here it is,’ or, ‘There it is.’
His natural combustion tension mounted.
No, he mused at himself and the world of thinking-dominant man and woman. Heaven is spread out upon the earth and within our beating hearts, our feeling-dominant minds, and our natural bodies. Yet thinking-dominant men do not see what God and Nature gave feeling-dominant females.
His right hand moved slowly from her right buttock cheek to drop below and between his face and her buttocks. His fingers gently immersed themselves in her personally warmed, winery raindrops. She forced her hips downward, urgently, seeking, searching, and needing, but he held her exactly where he wanted her.
‘Please!’ she begged, as she writhed against the strong grip of his left hand. ‘Ohh, please!’
But his fingers remained as steel and he kept her exactly where he wanted her. Her breathing was audible. He smiled inside as he savoured her feminine winery taste and reached up more deeply inside her wine barrel, to hold her pinned with his tongue, and then recalled a thought.
Why do you wash the outside of the cup? He remembered. Do you not realise that he who made the inside is the same one who made the outside?
She is perfect, he thought. Seek and you will find, he thought again. Yet what you asked me about in former times and which I did not tell you then, now I do desire to tell, yet you do not inquire after it.
He wondered then why men and women sought answers to questions that they already knew. They came equipped for life and love, and then asked the questions that their natural males and natural females already knew.
‘Oh, yes! Please! Now! Yes! Ohh, please!’ she begged with each deepening gasp.
The flesh of her cheek twisted in the grip of his strong fingers, but she moved not away from the reaching hilting his tongue was enjoying. And so, he reached further, forcing his face hard between her thighs. His tongue then suddenly withdrew and his teeth gently closed over the delicate flower of her nether necklace and bit her there, gently. Then he reached once again, even more deeply inside her with his tongue.
‘Oh, God!’ she wailed in her urgent distress for her sensual and sexual release. ‘Oh, God!
He breathed her winery brewing essence and her natural female lust into himself, knowing it was only a matter of seconds. Her natural joy was his natural joy for them both and it was bolting, like a wild steed.
He then recalled a statement from a movie star who had said that when she talked to God, they called it prayer, but when God spoke back to her, they called it schizophrenia.
His right hand dipped slowly inside the outlet of her wet spring wine well, searching for its brewing source, while it travelled quickly and deeply, to the very back of her then explored her there, in circular motion. His tongue then reached even more deeply, searching for her very female soul. She was naturally winery well wet.
‘Ohh!’ she begged. ‘Please!’
He began to slide his hand slowly backward and away from her, but then suddenly replaced it. Again, he slid deeply and quickly to find her pulsing centre, and this time, to touch it, to caress it, gently, by drawing down on it, with each sliding internal grasp.
‘Oh, God! Jesus! Oh Jesus! Please! Dear God! Oh, yes!’ she cried, as she shucked her hips and thighs up and down against his hand and tongue.
Then, slowly, he withdrew both, until they were free of her.
‘Ohh, noo!’ her disappointment sounded amidst her anguish and raw carnal lust.
Then his hand found her combustible wine brewery centre once again, easily grasping her there, firmly then drawing it downward in repeated and gentle grasps, while his tongue searched inside her, yet again.
‘Oh, God!’ she cried out loudly, as she ground her hips and thighs hard against his face and deeply embedded hand. ‘Yes! Oh, my God! Please! Yesss!’
She was combusting, convulsing, and shuddering; her body clamping his fingers and tongue. He felt her releasing euphoric and natural joy. It was his joy for all and he shared it with her, fully. It was hers, yet he took it from her to return it a hundred fold, wondering if she had been in the desert, too, and if so, for how long?
Maybe he had not been alone in the desert, after all. He knew he had not been, but he saw no one, until he looked with eyes that he wanted to see.
Show us the place where you are, he thought, as he ingested her naturally brewed wine through mouth and hand, while she bucked like a mare in heat, in his grasp—since it is necessary for us to seek it.
Whoever has ears let him hear, he thought idly. There is light within a natural female of light and she lights up the whole world. If she does not shine, she is a woman and is only chosen darkness in existing in unnatural darkness.
He was not in the dark any more and she was not a woman. She shined in her releasing female joy and she naturally lit his world, such that even were he blind, he could still see clearly on his darkest day, on his darkest hour.
And then her flesh and body went limp in his grasp and all about him. Slowly, he withdrew hand and tongue from the depths of her still trembling female body that was more awake than her conscious thinking mind. The strength had left her legs, such that he supported her with his hands on her cheeks.
Slowly, he stood. Then he released his right hand from her support and held her steady with his left. His right hand drew back quickly, high in the air then lashed downward with the strength of ten men to smack hard, across her right cheek, with a loud noise that sounded, like the shot out of a gun.
‘AAhh!’ she cried in pain and it was pain, this time.
No mistake about that, he then thought, yet the strength had returned to her legs and knees, such that he no longer had to support her, alone. His right hand remained on her flesh where it had landed while she became quiet. She sniffed softly, and then not at all.
‘What… are… you doing… to me? God!’ she gasped, making each word fit into each single breath on its own.
He gazed down at himself still proud. He wanted her to experience a wisp of her natural heaven on Earth, which had never been anywhere else.
Whoever finds their world of heaven within heaven on this world will become rich, he thought, with a smile. Let them renounce the created illusory world of the world without heaven. He glanced at the hand that had struck her and noticed its oily sheen from her female wine-brewing source. Then he brought it to his mouth and gently licked it empty of her. He surged naturally to life on the instant, strongly.
I took my place in the midst of this outer shell of their created illusory world, he thought to answer her, and I appeared to them in the flesh.
Yet he did not say those words to her, at all.
I found all of them intoxicated with illusion, he thought to say next, yet I found none of them thirsty for natural wine, and my soul became afflicted in sadness for the natural males of men because they are blind in their hearts and do not have female sight for the woman’s disguise.
Yet he did not say those words to her, either.
Empty, they all came into the illusory world of women and men, he thought to say next, and empty, too, they will leave the same illusory world.
He never said those words, either, but he thought to.
Yet for the moment, they are intoxicated with illusory thought-wants and not natural feeling-needs, he concluded. When they shake off their thinking-dominant men and women’s ill-brewed and created illusory wine, he knew, then they will know the world of natural heaven, the natural world of feel-right human nature and instinctive happiness they were meant to live in. Then they will finally feel that which felt not right with their world.
He didn’t say that, either, but he thought it. He wanted to, but he did not say it.
‘Oohh, God!’ she sighed with a long, drawn-out breath.
He noticed her high inner thighs. She was brewing more of her natural wine still, overflowing down herself. He sought to lick her of herself then, yet he did not. That time had now passed. Another time was about to begin. He smiled and glanced down at himself, then at the silver shining trail of wine reaching further and further downward, toward the inside knee of her right leg.
He smiled and felt good; the last supper.
The foxes have their holes and the birds have their nests, he thought amused. But I, who am the father of my father’s son of my father and my father’s son, have no place to lay my head and rest.
He smiled sadly then, softly. Brothers and sisters have I now none, he thought fondly—but this man’s father is my father’s son.