The most significant revelations about me have always occurred in and around libraries. I use the plural purposefully. There has been no road to Damascus moment. Each disclosure occurred like a new page in a whodunit, hinting at a vital clue, and very occasionally a red herring.
I realised my first clue to who I am, when I recognized that I was no longer looking through back issues of National Geographic for pictures of wild animals. Images of women suddenly held me spellbound.
They were glorious. African and Polynesian women with no Adam and Eve guilt, just naive innocence, and an Eden like freedom. More importantly to a crass young teenage boy they were naked and had tits.
Curiosity made me glance at the pictures of men. I found them interesting for purposes of comparison, but even at that early age, I wasn't worried.
My early fascination with exotic photos drove me on to read. I devoured anything I could find if it was set in Africa, Asia or the Pacific Islands. An old autobiography by a retired Resident of a group of islands in the middle of nowhere sparked my imagination. I wanted to be that institutionalised, imperialist racist surrounded by conquered compliant beauty in a far-flung corner of the empire. Today, I feel an uncomfortable twinge of guilt, at those early precocious patronising desires.
I'm not attacking the Resident for his principles, or his capable wife for her understanding, and definitely not the compliant islanders forced to tug their forelocks to the great white mother Queen overseas. They were all products of their time and cultures. I'm attacking my blinkered vision that hid the bigger picture. Like the tribes in Lord of the Flies, my only excuse is unformed arrogant youth.
I wonder how much my early reading made me who I am. If I had read D. H. Lawrence instead of T. E., would I have turned out a wife-beating, miserable, Motherfucking, maudlin artist with a penchant for lipstick and naked Greco-Roman wrestling? Put that way, the answer is no. Even my admiration for T. E. and his not always derring-do exploits couldn't make me dream of that.
The characteristics lacking in me, that T.E., Thesiger, Willoughby, Burton, Conrad and the rest had in abundance was discipline. They imposed it on themselves and those around them. They also had determination and a tremendous ability to improvise. As I grew older, I tried to make these traits my watchwords.
At eighteen, I was a semi-disciplined, definitely determined heterosexual with an equally definite desire for dark skinned girls and to my mind at least, I was justifiably arrogant.
I learned in the library was that arrogance is a tool. I watched my school chums controlled by theirs. Confused, they couldn't grasp that heavy-handed groping might win the night at a punch-fuelled party, but in Sangria-less sober daylight, it was sexual assault.
I no longer had the testosterone competitive concerns of my chums because I had a new girlfriend. Julie is long-legged, lithely slim with a dark olive complexion and brilliant green almond shaped eyes. She's stunningly beautiful, turning the colour of old gold in the sun. Her black hair, straight over the top of her skull twists and turns into a mass of feral corkscrews.
She was new to the school and finally agreed to go out with me after weeks of effort. I have never wanted or worked so hard for anything before or since. We spent ages whispering between the shelves, me pressing my case she frustratingly dancing back just out of reach.
One day in the Religious Studies section, in frustration my brain deserted my mouth. "Julie, I want to fuck you, just looking at you makes me hard. I don't want a quick fumble fuck, or a piece of cock candy to show off down the pub. Fucking you is a life's work and for something so special, I will wait until you are ready to become a woman." This revelation terrified me. For the first time in my life, I meant every word. I think it was the fear in my eyes and not the bluntly crude honesty that made her say yes.
Right now, we were learning to like each other and be reconciled to sex in the very near future. I wasn't going to jeopardise paradise by using the smash and grab techniques of my chums. I wasn't going to throw away my chance of living out my boyhood fantasies for bruised lips, stained trousers and a handprint across my cheek. Julie is darkly exotic bittersweet living literature. Who needs the Southern Seas when she is right here in the Home Counties?
We often spent study periods together in the school library. Thankfully, it was a traditional affair. Parquet floors, shelves of dark polished mahogany arranged into a series of U-shaped alcoves, each with its own solid table and chairs. She was reading and making notes on Gavin Maxwell's Ring of Bright Water. Smiling and shuffling in her seat, clearly enjoying the antics of the otter. I was trying to criticise poetry and losing the battle to thoughts of the wriggling bum besides me.
Shaking as she tried to stifle her laughter at the otter's clowning, she suddenly she let out a concussive gasp and her knee rattled hard against my leg. Catching it, my fingertips held her before slowly stroking the silky skin on the inside of her leg. A comfortable smile spread across her face.
As if nothing was happening, we both continued to keep up the pretence of reading. It was only after my finger found a sensitive area behind her knee that she brought her other leg across trapping my hand. Blushing and eyes wide she pretended to be prim, hissing, "Don't, I'm trying to concentrate."
"Why read when you can go there?"
"Where? ... Do you mean Scotland? ... When?"
"Right now. Trust me. I'll take you there. Lean back in your chair and relax. Go on I'll help you. Nanny taught me this. Scrunch up your toes. Don't laugh it really works. That's it. Now straighten them out and feel them relax. Now the insteps of your feet ... and relax." Despite her giggles, we moved through the rest of her body like this.
By the end she was completely relaxed, eyes closed, breathing deeply. I started to fly a kite, employing another technique learnt from Nanny this time to combat nightmares.
"Julie, you're on a small picturesque rocky island off Scotland. You're in a stone croft. You can hear the sea outside breaking on the rocks. You can see the strong stones in the walls. You can smell the peat fire and the tang of ozone in the air. It's a strong robust croft. It makes you feel safe and secure. The walls are thick and the scented air inside is cool."
"You want to be warm so you walk to the door. When you go through the door into the warmth outside, you will trust me never to hurt you. You will listen closely to my voice letting it flow through you and guide you. Open the door and go outside."
"You're outside on a small beach in a sheltered bay. You know that except for my voice you are alone. It's lovely and sunny, the air is warm and you can feel a comfortable light breeze wrap its self around you, holding you, warming your skin. You feel secure here in the warm breeze listening to my voice. You sit on a warm rock with your back against another. The rocks are warm from the sun. You feel their warmth against your skin. You know you're safe listening to my voice, you can relax here."
"The breeze is caressing your bare legs. It's weaving complicated patterns over your skin. You know it feels good. You make believe it's my fingers touching you. You have always wanted me to stroke your legs, but are too shy too say. You part your knees, welcoming the breeze, welcoming my fingers." In reply to my murmured words, her legs opened.
"Small zephyrs are whispering along your thighs towards your pussy. They stop before they get there. The breeze is teasing you. You pull up your skirt giving it permission to caress you higher." I let my index finger flick carelessly along her thigh as Julie rucked up her skirt.
As my fingertips slowly stroked higher I couldn't credit that this was truly happening. Was Julie really so daringly compliant, or was she really hypnotised? I remembered the famous official stipulation: Hypnotism couldn't make anyone do something that he or she wouldn't do normally. It was time to test her, time to be audacious. I looked and listened, we were alone in our alcove.
"Julie, you like being teased. It's turning you on, but you find it frustrating. You want to feel the warm breeze blow over your naked pussy. You're desperate to feel its light warm caresses embrace you. You can feel juice bubbling hot inside you. You need to let the zephyrs fondle and whisper warmly over your pussy lips. Show me that you know it will feel good, how much you want me to stroke your pussy. Julie, take off your panties and give them to me."
Her hands reached up under her skirt. In one smooth uninhibited movement, she pulled her panties down over her knee socks and black lace-up shoes. Reaching out I took the scrap of white cotton as she held it out to me like an offering.
Pulling her pleated skirt up around her waist, she let me gaze at her golden body and at the curling wisps of black hair surrounding her tight dark cleft. She looked deliciously indecent. My mouth filled with saliva as I imagined pressing my tongue to her pussy, penetrating it, lapping at her juices. I knew she would taste wonderful.
Her inner lips thickened and protruded under my stimulation. Her engorged clitoris shone as the tip shrugged out from its hood. A target for her primal pleasure, her hips bucked every time I ran a moist fingertip lightly over its domed head.
I murmured into her ear, telling her about the wonderful things that were going to happen. How much I loved and wanted her pussy around my cock. How much she wanted me deep inside her. That she should welcome the pain of first penetration as it would soon dissolve into unrepressed pleasure. Then I added a rider.
"Julie, it doesn't matter how many times you orgasm, or how hard you come. You will only feel true gratification when you satisfy me. You will do anything, anything at all to give me pleasure. That knowledge will always be there, deep inside you. Pleasuring me will always give you your ultimate satisfaction."
"Julie, you feel relaxed, you're safe and secure. When I say, 'Fountains mingle with the river' you will return to this beautifully relaxed safe and secure state."
Teasing her nipples into hard erect nubs, I whispered, "When I say, 'Mountains kiss high heaven', you will know your desire for me and your body will be turned on. Your nipples will harden and ache for my mouth. Your pussy juices will flow. You will feel empty without me inside you." Her back arched wildly pressing her tits into my hand.
"Julie, when I say, 'If thou kiss not me', your body will ache for me. You will want my pleasure. You know you can never be truly happy until you satisfy me. You will become my utterly wanton lover." Her lips parted as her breathing quickened, and her legs opened wider.
I breathed into her ear telling her she would come as soon as she felt my fingers penetrate her. I impressed on her that this was preparing her for what she sought, what she craved. She should keep coming as my fingers delved deeper inside her destroying her hymen.
I pressed my fingers into her cleft. Her head rolled and her hips rose up against my fingers. She was no longer a scared little girl worried about decorum, she was a young woman surfing pure uninhibited pleasure. As my fingers twisted and turned, her body bucked and shuddered in ecstasy. Her eyes glazed as she disappeared into the intense inner space of orgasm.
Despite warnings to come quietly, air hissed loudly through her nose and mewing moans escaped between her lips. As my fingertips pressed lightly against her barrier, their volume grew despite her efforts to bite them back. Looking at her rapture filled-face, she was more gorgeous than ever. I wanted to ravage her right there, instead I told her to kiss me so I could gag her with my mouth.
The second our lips sealed hard against each other, I drove my fingers fast against her last defence of innocence. I thought it would be fragile and rip apart at my assault. Instead, the tiny flap of skin stretched against my finger, forcing me to exert more pressure than I planned. However momentary, the hurt must have been intense, she sucked the air from my lungs, her body locked rigid, and her fingernails stabbing through my shirt poured out her pain into my shoulders. I felt the skin split around my middle finger and she breathed out into me and sank into the chair.
Pressing deeper, her body gave another vicious involuntary jerk, as a second finger breeched her. Then her moans changed in my mouth, her arms enveloped me, her pelvis rocked with my fingers. Her legs closed trapping my hand as she flooded it with her hot come.
Aware that we had created a lot of noise, I kissed her, straightened her skirt and told her to follow my lead. A dark shadow fell across the table. "What's happening here? Julie, are you all right? What's going on?"
So far, it had proved a good day for kite flying so I tried another. "It this damn book she's been reading Mrs. Robinson. It's really upset her. The ditch digger has just killed the otter. The book is sadistic and brutal. It may be a true story but I know that Maxwell enjoys getting you to love the furry little thing. When you do, he sets a few tribulations to get you worried, to make you care. Then he offers a way out of the problems, he lifts your hopes for happiness sky high."
I picked up Julie's book and flung it across the table. It slid across the polished surface before skittering over the floor. Forcibly I said, "Just when you are elated and feel everything will be wonderful, from out of nowhere he brings the shovel down on the otter's head. He kills the reader's innocence just as surely as he kills the otter. He is an evil destroyer of unsuspecting virtue Miss. What's worse he leaves only emptiness in its place. It's indecent that his books are recommended reading, they are emotional pornography for his pleasure only."
As Mrs Robinson mouth opened, I jumped in again. "Yes Miss, I know that the world can be a harsh place. However, he doesn't just show the reader that, he revels in it. That is what is obscene. The whole book is for his pleasure and his alone and the reader's pain is his source of pleasure. He was killing his heterosexual side and his chance of a relationship with the woman who loved him. He killed his resurgent homosexual side too Miss. He was killing all love. The film had to modify the ending to hide that bit and ease the brutality."
I needed a couple of deep breaths after this diatribe. "Sorry Miss, I'm going to take Julie to clean up and then we will go for a walk in the grounds Miss. She needs some fresh air after this upset."
Mrs Robinson taken aback by my tirade said, "If you're sure, she does look upset. Julie, are you ok?" Julie breathing hard, wobbly on her feet, flushed and shining with sweat from our previous activities easily played her part. Mrs Robinson took pity on her, "Well OK then but be back before the end of class." Turning back to me she said "What is Julie going to do about the exam, there's not long now, maybe you could help her with Shelley although it is really too late to change now."
"I know Miss, but I thought Cider with Rosie, it's about the death of a perceived idyll and not innocence, it's more about the inevitability of change. It leaves the reader with hope and awakening sensuality. After that trash she's been reading, it shows there is another way Miss. I'll help her."
She was silent for a couple of beats as we stood, Julie's arm around my waist, her head on my shoulder. The come-shine on my fingers and the bulge in my trousers may have made her wonder. She breathed in deeply her nose twitching at our scent. Her face wore that all knowing amused look teacher's perfect, "How long have you two been going out together?"
I answered while manoeuvring Julie towards the door, "It's been on the cards for a while now Miss, we tried to hold back because of the exams. We should have known Miss, that you can't avoid the inevitable. Sometimes our best endeavours to preserve the status quo are not good enough and you have to go with the flow and make the best fist of it you can. You never know when a heavy shovel is going to smash down on your head, so you have to enjoy life to the full. Don't you think so Miss?"
Smiling she said, "Go on, go for your walk, but be careful of too much sensuality." Her eyes were watching my swollen groin, she said. "Take care of her."
"I will Miss."
"You know you can come to me if need any extra coaching."
Over my shoulder, I smiled into her eyes, "If things don't work out as I plan Mrs Robinson, you'll definitely be the one I come to." I'm sure I didn't imagine the pink tinge on her cheeks.
Walking through the doors, Julie and I launched into freedom. Our pace got faster as we came closer to a stand of trees. Running we reached a thick old horizontal branch of an oak. Julie, now naked except for knee socks, shoes and a tie around her neck, laid back on my jacket. Parting her legs, I knelt down, eyelevel with my objective. Licking my lips, I made love to her with my mouth, licking and drinking her ambrosia.
I stripped away the remnants of the prim English schoolgirl, discarding her shoes and socks. I wanted the woman of my darkly exotic fantasy primal and untamed. Her body tensed, before thrashing wildly as she released into my mouth. Heady come splashed my face, ran down my chin, intoxicating scent filled my nostrils. This was partway to paradise.
Leaning over her, I pressed the head of my cock against her pussy, broaching her lips. Pausing, I rested the head of my cock just inside the gates of heaven, so both of us could get used to the feeling and prepare for what was to come. Taking advantage of the pause, I slipped off her tie. Looping it around her wrists, I lashed them to a small sturdy branch above her head.
"Julie, you were quiet when you came. Didn't you want to cry out?"
She smiled as she remembered the rapture, "Yes, but I thought ..."
"When we are alone there are no restrictions, no rules, just us and our pleasure. Understand?"
She nodded, "Yes"
She was agonizingly tight. It took all my self-discipline not to come as I penetrated her. Slowly her pussy adapted to its new role. Then the true pleasure began as my cock started to glide effortlessly through her.
Captivated, I treasured the sight of her struggle against her restraints while I helped myself to her body. Sucking and nuzzling her tits at will, playing my lips and tongue across every millimetre of golden skin. My finger probed, stroked and pinched as I slowly explored her.
When I could no longer hold back, I took hold of her ankles, and held them above my shoulders. She was the most erotic, lost in ecstasy vision I have ever seen. Her head and shoulders rolled at every thrust, her back arched and her fringed golden pussy clasped tightly around my shining crimson cock.
The sight was too much for me. My thrusts became longer. Instinctively she knew I was about to come. Her moans became louder and her hips rose higher as she took us both to paradise.
I pulled out of her with a grumbled roar and came over her body. She came loudly as streamers of come streaked white across her golden skin.
Gradually her movements slowed to twitches and jerks. Her darkly flushed face took on a look of pure bliss.
Moving up to her head, I stroked her cheek and pushed my cock towards her face. Unsure of what to do, I told her to take me in her mouth and suck me. Her mouth was hot as her lips opened and then sealed around me. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked.
A stiff tremulous tongue flicked uncertainly against my sensitised purple helm. I gasped as my hips involuntary jerked. Feeling my reaction, she smiled around me, her tongue wrapping around my cock. I held the rest of my cock in my fist, masturbating quickly I felt the last few drops of come be greedily lapped up.
My knees gave way under her pleasure assault. From a kneeling position, I kissed her mouth before making my way down her sweat-slicked skin. Taking her panties from my pocket, I cleaned my come from her belly and thighs. The sight of a single thick stray streamer from her puckered arse running over her own shining release, made my softening cock twitch.
Stuffing her panties back into my pocket, I blocked the streamer with my tongue, slowly savouring the taste of our combined come. Little by little, I licked upwards to the source, flicking my tongue around the dark starburst of her tight little anus. Slowly it opened allowing me to penetrate her. Standing up and seeing her face, I knew our future, at least in part.
I was leaning over her length to kiss her and release her hands when she asked, "What you were saying about Mij, the otter, does he really die like that?"
I looked at the acute sadness in her eyes and I knew my answer would be a stiletto sting. "Yes Julie he does." I expected her to push me away, but she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around me crying. The small shudders of her body stroked her pussy against my cock. Even in her despair, she made me want her.
As my cock stiffened, hunger filled her eyes. Her voice was thick as she said, "Make love to me. Fuck me. Don't take your thing out, I'm on the pill." Looking at me directly in the eyes, she took a deep breath, screwing up the courage to be naively crude, she said, "I want your cock in my cunt. Fill my cunt with your cock. Come in me. Fuck me ... Please."
Sliding into rapture, I remembered that I never woke her from her trance. Could she still be under? Julie's arms and legs clasped me, her heels pressing into my lower back. What the hell, why spoil paradise with earthly concerns.
Looking back on that wonderful day, I have wondered if Julie was hypnotised. If she was, did I commit rape, or did I just lower her inhibitions, and let her natural inclinations bubble to the surface. If she wasn't hypnotised, did she play me at my own game to get what she wanted, the achievement of ultimate power by submissively giving me the appearance of power over her?
I never have and probably never will, come to a definite conclusion, especially as my innate arrogance eventually surfaces. It believes the simple and more probable answer is that Julie just finds me irresistible and loves the way I fuck her.
Recently we went to see a stage hypnotist. Friends egged Julie into volunteering to be a guinea pig. Try as he might he couldn't put her in a trance. Finally, he announced that Julie was one of the very few people who naturally resisted hypnosis.
She returned to me striding out through the audience looking magnificent, chin up and head high, proud. As she sat, she collapsed scared and trembling. Desperate, her nails gouged into my forearm as she pleaded, "Say my poem for me please. I need to hear it."
Pressing my lips against her ear, I murmured:
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle -
Why not I with thine?See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?Loves Philosophy Percy Bishe Shelly
The power of the words, like always, was immediate. I watched her relax, her cheeks flush; nipples tightening to hard dark bullets, her thighs began rolling against each other. When I got to the end she turned to me, all I could see was fire and unsatisfied lust.
We left the show early, pleading the old babysitter excuse. Hurrying towards home, we made it halfway through the park before finding a suitable tree to continue exploring my exotic golden piece of paradise.