Thursday, July 20, 2006

Sex as Rebellion

Keen though I am to see Ellen again, my relationship with her is sexual only, and she remains a minor part of my life. The same is true of Sweetie. But this is not a permanent pattern among my lovers. Mona, for example, has become a friend after being a lover.

I hardly need say that she was a student. I met her about a year back and right from the first class I could tell she was a little taken with me. Staying behind after class to talk to me the first session, wearing nicer clothes in the second and later sessions. But really, most of all, it is in the eyes; the way she looked at me is something I have seen many times in class. Just that moment of looking eyes, the bold, clear gaze, the suggestion.

And so I was sure Mona would hit me up for an online chat, and so she did, a few hours after that first class. It was a semi-suggestive conversation and though mostly couched in the terms of just a friendly chat, it was clearly an exploration, charting the territory, the lie of the land.

She told me she was rearranging stuff in her dorm to make way for a new room-mate, and told me she was thinking of moving to an external flat, since, she said, she liked her own company better – though a lot of universities will not let their undergraduates move into private accommodation, threatening them with expulsion if they try to do so.

This is just one of the many ways in which China’s universities show their contempt for students. Mona also told me all the students at her university had to get up at 6 a.m. for compulsory exercise. But what help was there for it? She knew perfectly well that if she refused, she’d be failed. The more obvious way would be en-masse refusal, for even the ignorant and arrogant swine who run the universities know they could not fail a whole year of students without becoming a global laughing-stock.

But of course en-mass protest will never happen. The authorities would simply come for the brave souls who tried to organize it, at which point the other students would jump ship. This society is too selfish for solidarity. And too apathetic; the students just accept their lot without ever asking if it is right, without ever seeking to change it. I guess so many years of being beaten down, of being crushed under the contempt and despite of the government, have long since erased even the hint of an echo of a thought of self-determination, independence, rebellion.

But maybe I oversimplify. There are ways of rebellion; primarily, religion and sex.

Sex is how those like Lucy rebel. Indeed, as I was chatting with Mona that night, Lucy popped up also, to tell me how that day she had been forced to sit through some wretched hagiography on Deng Xiaoping. This was around the time of his centenary, and the wretched media here was in a dutiful froth about the matter. China Daily, for example, expressed its wonder at his depth of insight and intelligence, his shrewd and decisive proclamations, such as ‘Peace and development are good for the world.’ Wow. Top-grade thinking there, Little Bottle. Lucy was then obliged to write an essay on this worthless bilge. In a society where such dead, sterile rubbish fills public discourse (as, for example, Jiang Zemin’s astonishing revelation that ‘Government must represent the interests of the people’), some outlet must be sought. That’s what brought Lucy to my bed, for fucking me, a foreigner, was one way she could safely defy these numbing conventions. For Mona, too, sex was a way of personal rebellion.

Religion is the other way, and I meet a growing number of this kind of rebel. In general, such people are, like 95% of Christians, utterly unprepossessing, utterly vapid, limp, bland. In the same class I met Mona I had one of these clowns, Helen, who believed in every word of the bible, believed that, yes, god really did make the world in seven days and so on. I tried to point out some of the more obvious asininities of Genesis to her, the usual tropes such as ‘If there was no death in Eden, all animals must have been vegetarians, so why is the lion designed to eat meat?’ and so on. But as with most of these idiots, she just replied with trite platitudes from other bits of the bible, as if she was such a rabid believer that she could not even process my questions. It was as though the fact that I was questioning her fairy tale attitude to the world was so impossible for her to conceive that my questions simply became invisible to her.

Yet while I scorn such attitudes, and have a deal of contempt for them (for, it seems to me, such beliefs are in such clear contradictions to the experience of every day life that to hold them is a willful abuse of intelligence) I also understand them and to some extent even respect them. For they are an antidote to the folly and sterility of all these decades of the most dispiriting and poisonous pap that the party machine turns out. Christianity’s claims are every bit as ludicrous as communism’s, but at least they are poetic, at least they come from life, from culture, not from death as all the party’s proclamations do. And thus folly as it is, being christian is at least the first step on the road to individuality, to selfhood. Baby steps, yes, and if this literal attitude to the bible is not left behind, no growth beyond babyhood is possible. But they are steps at least, a start -- though Lucy’s ways of rebellion, as Mona’s, are much purer, more wholesome, more truthful.

Of course in this our first conversation she kept that side of her nature a little camouflaged, as did I. Nonetheless, I was quite sure that, had I felt more in the mood to push it a little, she would have been glad for me to go over and help her ‘rearrange’ the heavier objects in her dorm – that being the excuse I would have offered and the excuse she would have accepted to get me over there. And then, no doubt, we would have become lovers.

But I did not push that option. I did not want to seem too keen and, besides, was just in the mood to sit at home and loaf. And in any case, I was sure there would be plenty more chances to see her – to add nothing of the fact that anticipation just makes realization more sweet.

Technorati Tags:

Monday, July 17, 2006

Fucking Ellen #3

And now that I know this woman, this keystone of my life, is reading I find myself suddenly constrained; I begin more to see this blog perhaps as others see it, crude, blundering.

But no matter. Here’s one I prepared earlier…

Anyhow, back to Ellen, who I had just come all over; she rubbed my come into her as we lay there recovering awhile before showering. Then we watched a film some, but could not keep our hands off each other, and so soon we were fucking again, an equally long bout, her on top, from the side, behind, standing, missionary; she was just as wet and hot as before -- intoxicating.

As again we lay cuddling and talking after this, I returned to what she’d said over dinner, about a lesbian thing at school. I wanted details. She gave them; they were tame. ‘It was just a kiss on the lips like this’ and she kissed me; a chaste peck.

But, she said, two friends of hers had a more active relationship. This was back at high school, in the somethingth grade. Ellen had gone to the house of one of these friends, and while she was playing a video game they went to the bedroom to make love. She told me she did not realize what the cries of passion coming from their room were – ‘I thought they were playing a video game, like me,’ she said. But she told me, ‘I went to their room and a saw one lying on the bed and the other..’ and here she got between my legs to show me what she meant. ‘She was under a blanket, but I knew then what was happening.’ Ellen told me that the one girl really loved the other, but that in due course the other found a guy, and that this broke the first’s heart. ‘She was walking along the street crying… it was so sad.’

Ellen also told me that later, at university, she had had some more light experience this way. ‘It was cold and we had no heating so we shared a bed… and she had a really beautiful body… I touched her, we touched each other. Just touched, that’s all, but I do think a woman’s body is beautiful.’ I asked the obvious question; would she like to do it again, how would she feel with me and another woman? She told me she thought she would like it, that it would be fun. She said she was not a lesbian, did not want to have sex with the other girl... but that it would be fun. Wild that she is, if I can arrange it I imagine that restraint would be forgotten. And so I have been thinking of getting Mona involved, for she also has expressed some interest that way.

We carried on kissing, cuddling, for which she said ‘Thank you…most guys just go to sleep afterwards’ which again makes me think she is no beginner. I did ask her how she got to be so good at fuck. She told me that she had learned a lot from her long-term boyfriend. ‘At first he was shy and I had to teach him.. but later he taught me. I guess maybe he had experience with other women…’ She also said she had read up on the topic.

And I guess that may be true, for she said to me she’d read that Western guys like large breasts, and was reluctant to believe I liked her rather more petite ones. She then asked, as we lay there cuddling, ‘Do you want me to go?’ for she had also read that the Western causal lover likes it that way. And indeed a few weeks ago I overheard some expat talking about a one-night stand he’d had recently, and how she had stayed overnight. ‘Man, I hate it when they stay,’ he’d said, ‘sure, it means you get another lay in the morning… but I really hate it.’

But I like it, and wanted Ellen to stay, and was glad she did, and touched by her pleasure in it too. So we put the lights out… but our goodnight kisses lingered, and then she went for my ear, and me for her pussy, and I said, ‘You’re going to get me going again’ and she said ‘Me too’; and so we fucked again.

As we went at it I said, `What would your parents say if they could see us now?’ and she laughed the same horrified and amused laughter that other lovers have laughed when I’ve asked them the same question. Chinese parents frequently cannot conceive the fact their daughters are sexually active. This is why so many younger women do live a double life; and that’s one of the reasons guys like me find it easy. Used, already, to hiding their lives from their parents, the additional taboo of casual sex, of fucking a foreigner becomes all the easier to break.

Naturally I was gratified when Ellen said ‘I’ve never done it three times in a row before!’ Indeed, when I offered to come on command the first time she had said ‘Will you be able to do it a second time?’ So obviously she’s had some low quality lovers. Among them, a brief boyfriend after the long term guy. ‘But every time his cock touched my pussy, he came’ she told me. ‘So it only lasted a couple of months.’ I could not keep from laughing to hear of this useless guy, at which she gave me a playful punch.

As we talked after this bout, she told me, ‘I knew when I said I’d come home with you that we’d have sex.’ I knew when she sent me her picture a few days before this that we’d have sex – but of course was not so crude as to tell her.

Waking with her in my arms the next morning was a delight, and her body next to mine, imbued as it now was with the memories of the previous night’s passion, I began to stroke and caress her, kiss her awake, stoke her body towards last night’s pitch, her wild passion, her sheer joy to fuck. She responded with equal ardor, going down on me, taking me in her mouth with an eagerness that is rather rare here. And after we had made love this time she showered and went home, leaving me a dreamy morning of reveries.

Technorati Tags: