Out of the Burlap Ch. 00-01

"Fresh wounds," Joe murmured.

"Losing Daddy more than Danny. Like I said, I'm a difficult girlfriend, not to mention a little too detached and self-involved to really be in love."

Eyes met; sad eyes. She picked up her guitar and strummed. Finding a melody seemingly out of nowhere but with a hint of similarity to Led Zeppelin's Stairway to Heaven, itself based on the melodies of English folk song, her slightly high sensuous voice brought music to his lyrics for the first time. He felt dazzled and more alive than he ever had. The excitement of it actually made him hard.

"Thanks," he murmured after she finished, repeating the last line as a sort of climax of a chorus.

She giggled at his rapturous expression and lightly kissed his lips. "I like it," she said. "We need verses for this chorus now. Maybe contrasting thoughts between sisters-in-law?"

"Sounds kind of country."

Maya shrugged. "Why not? I always admired Richard Thompson and he combines old English folk songs with a kind of American country and western. He tells tales in his songs."

"Not to mention his killer guitar playing."

Another shrug and Maya responded, "I never bowed to the gods of guitar, but I do admire his beautiful restraint."

She then picked her way through an amazing rendition of "Did She Fall or Was She Pushed?" by Thompson, wowing Joe. Thompson's contemplation on the death of Sandy Denny, his friend and former lead singer of their band "Fairport Convention" never sounded more plaintive or more beautiful.

"You've never revealed your talent," he told her afterwards.

"I started playing guitar before I was ten, and Daddy was a big fan of Richard Thompson, so I learned from him."

"You play like that in front of an audience and they'll be enthralled. With a fiddle and a stand up bass and maybe a mandolin, it would be lovely."

"But I want the stony, spacey music I heard in Gong," she argued. "I really loved it."

"That's what bows are for," Joe smiled.

"And synthesizers," Maya grinned.

"So definitely not bluegrass."

"God forbid."

*************

The buzzer awoke him from another burlap dream, although this one had been less stressful and somehow more accepting as his friend joined him when the ladies showed his rough cloth restraint in the mirror and had started extolling the benefits of burlap.

He found himself dressed in jeans and t-shirt and flannel shirt passed out on his couch, the blank book he'd been writing in and the pen he'd been writing with both resting ignobly on the floor. The buzzer buzzed again and he grumbled, "Just a second," uselessly since the button being pressed nested in a row of buttons in the entryway of his apartment building three floors below.

"Who is it?' he asked the small intercom box.

"Me," the box vibrated.

"Could you be more specific?" Joe asked and heard a lovely chuckle.

"Nope," the vibrations, definitely female, replied.

He chuckled as well and buzzed her in while his piss hard-on got harder. As soon as he unlocked the door he rushed to the toilet and somehow released a stream of urine. By the time he shook off the last drop, the door resounded with three knocks. "It's open," he yelled. "I'm in the bathroom," he told her much quieter when he heard the quiet squeal of the hinges. The door closed softly and he heard the faint thud of the bolt being secured before he zipped carefully over his tumescence and turned on the faucet to wash his hands.

His heart leaped a bit when he saw her in the bathroom doorway nearly hopping with energy, her smile tight yet wide as she held a joint in her lips and sucked in its smoke. Somehow she seemed more beautiful than ever. She seemed to shimmer with it.

"Hey," she said after removing the joint, the word joining a cloud of smoke in its emergence from her mouth. She leaned towards him and lifted herself on tippy toes and he leaned down to meet her lips which exhaled the remainder of her lungful of smoke into his mouth. He sucked it in while pressing his lips to hers. Her tongue followed the smoke in entering his mouth.

With their mouths' release, she explained, "I kept thinking about you," as she offered the joint to him. He dried his hands and took the joint and brought it to his lips and toked. Her petite hand revealed what her thoughts had focused on as it caressed the lump at his crotch. Both hands then worked at his buckle and button and soon the zipper unzipped. Pulling down his jeans and with them his underpants until they hung around his knees, she somehow guided him to sit on the commode which he had thankfully closed.

Removing the joint from his lips, she placed it in hers and toked while her hands quickly stripped away her jeans and panties, the gusset of which resisted a moment, clinging wetly to her pussy. Somehow she ended up with a small square packet in her hand which she hastily tore open revealing the rolled up condom. Handing the joint to him with one hand, the other rolled the condom on his rigid cock. As he toked, she straddled him. He had moved his butt to the front edge to give room for her legs.

Reaching beneath her she blindly guided his glans betwixt her naturally lubricated pussy lips, rubbing from top to bottom and back, coating it, slicking it up for entrance. Pausing the preparation, she returned the joint to her lips before lowering her pussy lips onto him.

He felt heat and tightness and slipperiness surround his glans and wondered why she needed it coated. Nothing felt dry or resistant to his opening a path inside her despite the tight squeeze surrounding his substantial vaginal hole displacer.

Even while easing down impossibly slowly, she managed to remove the joint and place it between his lips. "Oh God," she moaned exhaling smoke. "Feels so good."

"Mmm," he agreed before sucking passionately on the joint.

Seconds later, he found himself nearly fully embedded inside her when he felt the resistance of her cervix which made her wince. She solved the problem of her too shallow depths by shifting slightly back which also served to bring greatest pressure along her upper cunt and thus against clit once the fucking began.

But first she rested, removing the joint from his lips and pinching it between her lengthy fingernails to hold its near roach size as she sucked up the last sweet smoke the joint offered. Setting the roach aside on the sink basin, she leaned forward as did he and their lips met and she brought the smoke from her lungs once again into his lungs. He released it out through his nostrils as his lips had been sealed by hers.

"I knew you'd fill me like no other," she complimented him after the kiss, her hands unbuttoning his shirt.

"You're tight like a virgin," he told her, grabbing her sweatshirt and pulling it over her head revealing her big firm fake tits.

"I guess I'm pretty small down there," she responded shyly.

"Am I hurting you?"

"It feels intense and incredible," she murmured, shaking her head subtly. While removing his shirt and pulling off his t-shirt, she added, "like nothing else I've felt." She began the fuck with slow shifting on his lap.

"I heard a lot of those short lead singers have big cocks," he said within a moan.

"Don't know," she moaned. "Not into the cocks of cocky assholes. Like the strong silent type...like you."

"No big swinging dicks?"

"Average I guess. Nothing like your monster," she moaned and quickened her movement. His hands scooped her up at her butt and squeezed, lifting her and pulling her loins close to his in ever increasing speed. Despite the intensity of it, he remained cognizant of her shallowness. She leaned back enough to bring her bouncing tits into range for his mouth which captured and nipped at her nipples.

Too soon motion became erratic and overwhelming. He could feel the sweet squeeze of his balls ready to release sperm. In his passion, he bit down on her nipple and it turned out to be a trigger. She bounced against his thighs at an incredible rate until she stopped and cringed. His hands became the only agent of fucking. His loins thrust upwards when he pulled her down. She had held her breath when she tightened, and gasped its release when she loosened with a breathy "Fuck."

At that moment he ceased moving her on him and pressed dangerously deep and trembled with the release of seed from his swollen balls. Between ejaculations, he felt the shimmer of vibrating pussy walls even through the barrier of the rubber seeming to milk him like chase lights on a sign ever leading inward.

His eyes finally opened and he saw the beauty of her crimson tinted skin as her vibrant violet eyes with languid eyelids half shut gazed into his eyes, her sensuous lips lifting into a smile anything but subtle. A smile of devout appreciation.

"That was...," he began breathlessly.

"Breathtaking," she finished within a heavy exhalation.

They laughed. Her laughter ended with a sigh when his loose, flaccid penis still cloaked in its off white jacket emerged from its warm burrow. She missed getting filled by it already.

Both sets of eyes lifted from the view of the emergence of his smaller softer member and once again connected. Eyes closed and Maya shifted forward and embraced her new lover, her tits mashing against his chest, as they proceeded to bring a series of gentle kisses to each other like thank you gifts for sharing ecstasy and the languid, incredibly comfortable warmth that followed. Eyes opened between those kisses and enjoyed the smiles they shared.

Nothing tugged him away from her. No scratchy self-consciousness emerged. He never felt so comfortable with anyone else or with himself before. So lost in it, he never even contemplated the difference. He just felt incredible.

"I need a shower," she said. "Can you wash my back?"

"With pleasure," he grinned.

In the narrow confines of the shower/bath, they had to keep their positions with her closest to the shower head, but they could at least turn around. And he washed much more than her back as did she him. In fact genitals and assholes and her breasts became cleanest, with careful cleaning done by each other's tongues of his resurrected cock and her cunt that added her own moisture to the pouring water.

Water losing its heat didn't cool off their passion. He shut it off and stepped from the tub, grabbing towels, handing her hers as she stepped out behind him. They hurried their drying, drying themselves rather than each other to quicken it, before rushing out the bathroom and into his bedroom, only pausing for her to grab her purse, extracting a condom packet from it.

They knelt naked on the bed face to face, her hands busy tearing open the packet and rolling on the condom. "Extra large," she told him. Once accomplished, she lay prone before him, her legs wide open, and she guided him down and in and he penetrated her slowly, basking in the return to heaven.

The slow penetration kept any pain from happening when he reached bottom. When he tapped her cervix with his cock's tip, her hand gripped the rest of him remaining outside measuring the length that fit.

"Don't worry," she told him in a murmur. "Just fuck the shit out of me."

And he did. His hands held her tits, fingers pressing her nipples gently at first, while their lips sealed together, only separating for gasping breaths. One of her hands squeezed his tight butt commanding his speed which ended up being fast immediately while the other stayed tight around the base of his cock, her wrist shifting side to side to rub her engorged clit.

Humming pleasure into each other's mouths, they slammed together at their loins with unrelenting speed. A goo d five minutes into it, her lips unsealed from his as she grunted and stiffened and relaxed with a gasp containing, "so good" in it. Her lips reattached only to separate and repeat not long after. He kept fucking her throughout.

Finally as she tightened harder than ever, her middle finger penetrated his sphincter and found his prostate and rubbed vigorously, causing an unleashing of his own roar of pleasure and the fluids within that gland as his hands reached low and pulled her loins as close to his as possible. They both shook and writhed, rocked by waves of ecstasy. Even the dangerous press of his tip against her cervix as it released wet heat into the safety of the rubber only added to the unprecedented bliss she experienced.

He collapsed onto her. For a moment she relished his weight. But eventually she needed to breathe.

"Uhm, you're crushing me, Joe," she murmured.

His body suddenly stiff, he slid off her onto his back, the moment that had lasted for nearly an hour suddenly lost and the burlap restriction once again encased him.

At first she didn't notice, turning onto her side to kiss his cheek. "That was incredible," she said as she crawled on top of him and saw the change.

"Joe?"

"I..." he started, his face taut, a tear easing out and slipping across his temple.

She kissed it and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I...I didn't mean to crush you."

She laughed. "I didn't mind. I liked it until I realized I have to breathe."

"Did I hurt you? I mean I went too deep. I know I pushed against your cervix."

"Joe...I've never cum so hard before in my life. Your pressing there only made it better. It wasn't like you slammed into me. It was incredible. Absolutely amazing."

He looked into her eyes. "Me too," he said.

"So what's wrong?" Her hand glided across his cheek.

"I...Maybe you should go."

"What?!?" she yelled. "Find me; fuck me; forget me. Is that what this is? Fuck you!" Hopping off him, she pressed hard, almost painfully against his chest. "I guess it was too good to be true," she grumbled as she padded down the hallway. "I thought you were sweet and deep, but you turn out to be a fucking asshole. Sure I've had an occasional fling, but I'm not really like that, especially when I like the guy like I thought I liked you. I've managed somehow to avoid pricks like you. I guess my luck couldn't last forever. Too many dickheads in the world."

When she emerged from the bathroom fully clothed, she found the apartment door blocked by a tall naked Joe, his butt pressed against it and his body sagging as if the entire world pushed down on it. Haunted eyes stopped her instantaneously from continuing to rant.

"Maya," he muttered. "Don't go. I'm sorry."

She couldn't stop herself. Once her temper took hold, it became a force of nature like a hurricane blowing away everything in her path. Hurricane Maya. She reared back and slapped him hard; hard enough to turn his head and redden his cheek.

Though it hurt and the power of it surprised him, he made no sound. More tears appeared though, and he sniffled as he straightened his head and looked down. If he didn't expect the slap, the laugh that followed surprised him nearly as much. Her eyes looked down at his penis where the condom hung loosely.

"That looks just sad and ridiculous," she said.

He chuckled. "Looks like I feel," he said. "I'll go flush it."

"Good idea."

"Please don't go."

"I won't. Get dressed."

"Yes Ma'am."

"We have work to do."

"It's four in the morning," Joe pointed out.

"So? You have the day off."

When he entered the living room, he saw Maya sitting on his couch with her feet curled up under her reading the verses he had written before he passed out earlier in the evening. She smiled up at him. "I like it."

"Really?" he grinned, sitting beside her. He tensed immediately when she climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

"You're tight as a drum," she noticed, her hand sliding from his shoulder across his arm to his fist. "Open," she ordered, and when he did, her fingers enmeshed with his. He took a deep breath and calmed. "Better?" she asked. He nodded. She waited.

After another deep breath, he began. "I didn't want to scare you off because...well..."

"You wanted to fuck me."

"Well...yeah...that too, but..."

"Me too, but..."

They chuckled.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Maya. I mean I do, but not the pathology or whatever. Pathological shyness or self-consciousness or something. More the latter than the former. And I don't remember when it started. It's like I was born with it. It's like everything I do or everything I think gets held back and I have to fight to move forward. I manage most of the time to fight through it, but sometimes this holding back feels like it's tearing me apart, like every bit of me, including my brain, is being eviscerated."

"Sounds like horrible pain," Maya said, brushing away the soft brunette hair hanging across his forehead and nearly covering his eye.

"No, not pain. It's like I feel exposed, vulnerable, ugly, like a monster of a man whose skin is gone and all that viscera can be seen with frightening clarity."

"But Joe, you're no monster. I think you're beautiful. I can see the outside and I've been reading the inside. What makes you think different?"

"Beautiful, hunh? You're the beautiful one here. Beauty and the Beast."

Maya nodded. "A noble creature cursed by ugliness and the fear it engenders in the one that he loves. The curse only ended if Beauty can fall in love with the beast and kisses him with a lover's true kiss."

She kisses him softly and smiles at the end of it.

"Am I Jean Marais now?"

"Prettier," she grins. "And not quite so ruggedly handsome."

"So you're a Cocteau fan too?"

"I love that film and a lot of the films from France at that time. Children of Paradise and Rules of the Game and L'Atlante."

"Me too," he smiled.

"Have you ever looked inside that tension?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...Like I have a really bad temper..."

"I can feel it," he interrupted, rubbing his cheek.

"I'm not apologizing. You pissed me off."

"Sorry."

Her face became serious. "I'll slap you again if you start apologizing all the time. You just gave me the most exquisite fuck of my life and you apologize?"

"I'm..."

Her grumble prevents the word and they chuckle. "Anyway," she continued, "When I feel that rage strike me sometimes I stop and examine it. It manifests in my neck and a burn in my belly so my mind sort of enters those places and I see...memories. Mostly being a spoiled little brat manipulating my poor father. Shame takes the place of rage and eases me out of it so I don't go trampling over everyone like a mad elephant."

"You as an elephant; it doesn't jibe."

"I have a giant temper, Joe," Maya explained. "It definitely transcends this little body."

"Yeah," Joe muttered, "I examine it, but I don't get images of the past like you. I get...a texture."

"A texture?"

"Like I can see myself enclosed in the roughest of material. Burlap actually. Rough, with a mesh just wide enough to breathe through."

"Burlap," she shakes her head. "You're crazy."

"Probably," he shrugs. "It's what I see. I actually dream about it: me eviscerated and yet enclosed in burlap. It's the metaphor that my subconscious seems to have found for my condition. But I guess to be really crazy I'd have to really think I'm trapped in burlap."

"True," Maya chuckled. "Ever write about it?"

"Writing is when I'm free of it. My mind feels no restriction or self doubt. Words just flow onto the page."

"No song called Burlap."

"Nope."

After a long stare into his eyes, she sighed, "I should go," and she climbed from his lap. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

Joe half smiled, "It is past four."

"Yeah." She grabbed the blank book. "Can I take this?"

"Okay."

"You sure?"

"You gave me the gift of hearing my lyrics sung. Take it."

"And maybe a couple others?"

"Okay." Joe got up and knelt at the bookshelf and grabbed two more books of lyrics arbitrarily. Below them leaning against his record collection sat the three albums that made up the Flying Teapot trilogy. "Do you want to borrow my Gong albums?"