Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/ASS14828.TXT

Text File | 1994-03-26 | 5.5 KB | 92 lines

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GROVE COUNTY.
1.    THE QUARRY.
TO HOLD HIS FISTS CLOSED
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TIGHT, AS IF THE SKIN OF HIS PALMS HAD GROWN FAST TO THE STEEL HE CLASPED.
TO KEEP HIS FEET STEADY, PRESSED DOWN HARD. THE FLAT ROCK AN UPWARD THRUST
AGAINST HIS SOLES. NOT TO FEEL THE EXISTENCE OF HIS BODY, BUT ONLY A FEW
CLOTS OF TENSION: HIS KNEES, HIS WRISTS, HIS SHOULDERS AND THE DRILL HE
HELD. TO FEEL THE DRILL TREMBLING IN A LONG CONVULSIVE SHUDDER. TO FEEL
THIS STOMACH TREMBLING, HIS LUNGS TREMBLING. THE STRAIGHT LINES OF THE
STONE LEDGES BEFORE HIM DISSOLVING INTO JAGGED STREAKS OF TREMBLING. TO
FEEL THE DRILL AND HIS BODY GATHER INTO THE SINGLE WILL OF PLEASURE. THAT
A SHAFT OF STEEL MIGHT SINK SLOWLY INTO GRANITE. THIS WAS ALL OF LIFE FOR
MACK, AS IT HAD BEEN IN THE DAYS OF THE TWO MONTHS BEHIND HIM.
                            HE STOOD ON THE
HOT STONE IN THE SUN. HIS FACE WAS SCORCHED TO BRONZE. HIS SHIRT STUCK IN
LONG, DAMP PATCHES TO HIS BACK. THE QUARRY ROSE ABOUT HIM IN FLAT SHELVES
BREAKING AGAINST ONE ANOTHER. IT WAS A WORLD WITHOUT CURVES, GRASS OR
SOIL. A SIMPLIFIED WORLD OF STONE PLANES, SHARP EDGES AND ANGLES. THE
STONE HAD NOT BEEN MADE BY PATIENT CENTURIES WELDING THE SEDIMENT OF WINDS
AND TIDES. IT HAD COME FROM A MOLTEN MASS COOLING SLOWLY AT UNKNOWN
DEPTHS. IT HAD BEEN FLUNG, FORCED OUT OF THE EARTH. AND IT STILL HELD THE
SHAPE OF VIOLENCE AGAINST THE VIOLENCE OF THE MAN ON ITS LEDGES.

    HE LIKED THIS WORK. HE FELT AT TIMES AS IF IT WERE A MATCH OF
WRESTLING BETWEEN HIS MUSCLES AND THE GRANITE. HE WAS VERY TIRED AT NIGHT.
MACK LIKED THE EMPTINESS OF HIS BODY'S EXHAUSTION.
    EVERY EVENING HE WALKED THE TWO MILES FROM THE QUARRY TO THE
LITTLE TOWN  WHERE THE WORKERS LIVED. THE EARTH OF THE WOODS HE CROSSED
WAS SOFT AND WARM UNDER HIS FEET. IT WAS STRANGE, AFTER A DAY SPENT ON THE
GRANITE RIDGES. HE SMILED AS AT A NEW PLEASURE. EACH EVENING LOOKING DOWN
TO WATCH HIS FEET CRUSHING A SURFACE THAT RESPONDED, GIVING WAY AND
CONCEDED FAINT PRINTS TO BE LEFT BEHIND.
    THERE WAS A BATHROOM IN THE GARRET OF THE HOUSE WHERE HE ROOMED.
THE PAINT HAD PEELED OFF THE FLOOR LONG AGO AND THE NAKED BOARDS WERE
GRAY-WHITE. HE LAY IN THE TUB FOR A LONG TIME AND LET THE COOL WATER SOAK
THE STONE DUST OUT OF HIS SKIN. HE LET HIS HEAD HANG BACK ON THE EDGE OF
THE TUB, HIS EYES CLOSED. THE GREATNESS OF THE WEARINESS WAS ITS OWN
RELIEF. IT ALLOWED NO SENSATION BUT THE SLOW PLEASURE OF THE TENSION
LEAVING HIS MUSCLES. HIS MIND WANDERED TO THE MORNING  WHEN HE MET A
STRANGER ON THE PATH TO THE QUARRY.
            HE ATE HIS DINNER IN A KITCHEN, WITH OTHER QUARRY
WORKERS, SITTING ALONE IN A CORNER. THE FUMES OF THE GREASE, CRACKLING
ETERNALLY ON A VAST GAS STOVE, HID THE REST OF THE ROOM IN A STICKY HAZE.
HE ATE LITTLE, HE DRANK A GREAT DEAL OF WATER. THE COOL GLITTERING LIQUID
IN A CLEAN GLASS WAS INTOXICATION. HE WAS THINKING OF A PAST TIME WITH
JOHN. THEY HAD NOT BEEN TOGETHER FOR TWO YEARS NOW. MACK WAS READY, BUT
NOT LOOKING FOR ANOTHER FRIEND, SUCH AS JOHN.
                HE SLEPT IN A SMALL WOODEN CUBE UNDER THE
ROOF. THE BOARDS OF THE CEILING SLANTED DOWN OVER HIS BED. WHEN IT RAINED,
HE COULD HEAR THE BURST OF EACH DROP AGAINST THE ROOF. IT TOOK AN EFFORT
TO REALIZE WHY HE COULD NOT FEEL THE RAIN BEATING AGAINST HIS BODY.
                    SOMETIMES, AFTER DINNER, HE WOULD
WALK INTO THE WOODS THAT BEGAN BEHIND THE HOUSE. HE WOULD STRETCH DOWN ON
THE GROUND, ON HIS STOMACH, HIS ELBOWS PLANTED BEFORE HIM. HIS HANDS
PROPPING HIS CHIN, AND HE WOULD WATCH THE PATTERNS OF VEINS ON THE GREEN
BLADES OF GRASS UNDER HIS FACE. HE WOULD BLOW AT THEM AND WATCH THE BLADES
OF GRASS TREMBLE, THEN STOP AGAIN. HE WOULD ROLL OVER ON HIS BACK AND LIE
STILL, FEELING THE WARMTH OF THE EARTH UNDER HIM. FAR ABOVE, THE LEAVES
WERE STILL GREEN, BUT IT WAS A THICK, COMPRESSED GREEN, AS IF THE COLOR
WERE CONDENSED IN ONE LAST EFFORT BEFORE THE DUSK COMING TO DISSOLVE IT.
THE LEAVES HUNG WITHOUT MOTION AGAINST THE SKY OF POLISHED LEMON YELLOW.
ITS LUMINOUS PALLOR EMPHASIZED THAT ITS LIGHT WAS FAILING. MACK PRESSED
HIS HIPS, HIS BACK INTO THE EARTH UNDER HIM. THE EARTH RESISTED, BUT THEN
GAVE WAY. IT WAS A SILENT VICTORY. HE FELT A DIM SENSUOUS PLEASURE IN THE
MUSCLES OF HIS LEGS. HE RESISTED THE DESIRE FOR SEX WITH A MAN -- THE MAN
ON THE PATH. BUT IT WAS A LOOSING BATTLE FOR HE WOULD NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN.
                    MACK SAT UP AND DID NOT MOVE FOR A
LONG TIME. THEN HE SMILED, A SLOW SMILE WHICH LIT UP HIS FACE. A SMILE
SAVED FOR SOMEONE SPECIAL. HE THOUGHT OF HIS DAYS GONE BY, OF HIS DESIRE,
OF WHAT HE SHOULD BE DOING AND PERHAPS NEVER DOING AGAIN. HE WATCHED THE
PAIN'S UNSUMMONED APPEARANCE WITH A COLD DETACHED CURIOSITY. SAYING  TO
HIMSELF: "WELL HERE IT IS AGAIN." HE WAITED TO SEE HOW LONG IT WOULD LAST.
IT GAVE HIM A STRANGE, HARD PLEASURE TO WATCH HIS OWN FIGHT AGAINST IT.
THEN HE SMILED IN CONTEMPT OF HIMSELF, AT HIS OWN SUFFERING. HE DID NOT
REALIZE THAT HE SMILED AT HIS OWN AGONY. SUCH MOMENTS WERE RARE. BUT WHEN
THEY CAME, HE FELT AS HE DID IN THE QUARRY: THAT HE HAD TO DRILL THROUGH
GRANITE, THAT HE HAD TO DRIVE A WEDGE, BLASTING THE THING WITHIN HIM WHICH
PERSISTED IN CALLING UP HIS DESIRE.
                    TONIGHT MACK GAVE INTO HIS DESIRES
THERE IN THE GRASS,  AND RETURNED TO THE HOUSE HE SHARED WITH THE OTHERS.
MACK WOULD NOT BE WALKING THIS WAY TO WORK ON MONDAY AND GIVE UP HOPE OF
SEEING THE MAN ON THE PATH AGAIN. THIS WOULD BE HIS LAST NIGHT WITH THE
OTHER QUARRY WORKERS. HE HAD FOUND A ROOM IN ANOTHER TOWN, AND WAS MOVING
INTO MRS. KEATING'S ROOMING HOUSE.