Horizontal Lives

True Tales of the Infamous Courtesan: Persephone N. Hades and her Horizontal Life underground. How she got there, her mis-adventures and her struggle to re-surface.

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Snail Sex

When he arrives, we embrace in my kitchen. He gives me a tight, chiropractic hug, loosening a few spinal bones.

Me: Mmmm. Do that again. Feels so yummy.

He does.

Me: Come in. Come in. It feels like ages since I saw you last.

Him: It was just six weeks ago.

Me: No. Was it? No. (Was it?)

Him: You don’t even remember me.

Me: I do!

Him: Hey. It’s okay. We only saw each other once before.

Me: I remember lots about you. It just seems like a lifetime ago.

Him: What do you remember?

Me: I know you love to Golf.

Him: That’s true, I just got back from a golf vacation.

Me: Was it great?

Him: It really was.

Me: So explain Golf to me. It’s one thing about men I really don’t understand.

Him: You know what it is?

Me: I really don’t.

Him: It’s like 90% heartache and then a moment of perfection. You try and you try and you suck and then, bam. You hit a perfect shot and it’s beautiful. That one moment of perfection addicts you.

Me: Sort of like making love to a woman?

Him: Are you talking about me?

Me: Not you puppy. (I kiss him on the cheek.) But don’t you think, if men, not you, but men in general, spent as much time and effort learning to make love to a woman, well, wow.

Him: You’re probably right about that.

Me: So why don’t they?

Him: Hmm. Ego maybe. Good question. Maybe because we’re born with the equipment, we just naturally think we know how to use it.

Me: So if you were born with a golf club as an arm, you wouldn’t be so diligent about learning the sport?

Him: You know what?

Me: What?

Him: You could be right. What else do you remember?

Me: I remember that…your birthday is August 31st?

Him: How do you know that?

Me: I looked at your license.

Him: But why do you remember that?

Me: I have a funny brain. I can’t remember any of the important things but I remember stuff like birthdays.

Him: I love your brain.

Me: You love my brain?

Him: I do. It’s one of the sexiest things about you.

Me: Hmmm. My brain huh? You should see it in a g-string.

Him: (he laughs) My dear, I already have.

Me: I can’t believe it was only six weeks ago.

Him: You know why women have trouble with numbers?

Me: Why?

Him: Because all their lives, men have been telling them that this (he holds his forefinger and thumb about three inches apart) is twelve inches.

Me: (laughing) I love that you always have a joke.

Him: And I love that you always have this pussy.

He drops to his knees on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, burying his face deep into the crotch of my pink lace panties. For a moment, I am with him; with his tongue, with his lips but now my mind is humming. I can’t believe I’m so confused about the timing.

Me: Are you sure it was only six weeks?

Him: (looking up from between my legs) Six weeks. Four weeks. Something like that. (He uses a hard pointy tongue to move my panties lower to get to flesh.)

Me: Was I wearing a Band-Aid here (I point to my left hip) when you were here last time?

Him: Where?

Me: Here.

Him: (sitting back up on the sofa) No. I don’t think so.

Me: Then it had to be longer ago. Did I ever tell you about my Leprechaun doctor?

Him: Definitely no.

Me: Then it had to be before that because I just healed from that wound.

Him: From which wound.

Me: When I was stabbed by a snail.

Him: A snail?

Me: I know it sounds silly, but I was. These things happen to me.

Him: I recall the time your sofa broke your toe.

Me: No. That was a long time ago. How did you know about that?

Him: You told me. You had just healed from that the last time I came.

Me: Oh god! And it didn’t just break my toe. It actually reached out and attacked me. That’s right. You must think I’m a real klutz. I am. But now you must think so.

Him: No. I just think you have an issue with inanimate objects. How did you get stabbed by a snail?

Me: There’s this place I love in the Caribbean? It’s very private. It has white talcum power sand and rocks with lots of snails on them. It’s very deserted, I can go there and just be naked for days at a time.

Him: Sounds sexy. Where is it?

Me: I can’t tell anyone! But when I go there, I just lay flat on the sand and the waves rock me until I’m covered with sand and seaweed and just stare at the rock.

Him: This is what you do for your vacation? Watch snails? I always have a more glamourous picture of you in my mind.

Me: It’s good. It’s better than you think. Sometimes, when I lay there, my body completely dissolves. I just become the sand and the sea and the wind and the rocks. Haven’t you ever felt that way in a place before?

Him: No. I’m afraid I live a life of quiet desperation.

Me: Don’t we all? But sometimes, there are these places--I actually think to myself, when I’m laying there, that if I were to die right then, it would be absolutely the perfect way to go. And by the way, there’s a lot of action on those rocks. Those snails are pretty randy.

Him: C’mon.

Me: They are! Okay, so one day, I’m laying there on the sand, completely horizontal, with one eye open watching the rock and suddenly it looks like the rock is moving. And I’m thinking, "Oh my god! I’m going nuts. I’m having a flashback." It was like being on mushrooms.

Him: I never tried mushrooms. I dig pot.

Me: I know you do. Pot and cigarettes. Want one? (I offer him a cigarette. He prefers his own brand. I love that he smokes ‘cause so do I so, yeah! I get to have a cigarette.)

Me: I open my eye again and look. And the rock is definitely shifting in places. Then I realize, much to my relief, that it’s actually the snails that are moving. Lots of them. All at once. But then I’m wondering, where are they all going all of a sudden? Is it matinee time at the snail theatre?

Him: Where are they all going?

Me: Well, wait. I don’t know yet. And there are some snails that are not moving at all. So I focus on one snail who seems to be getting close to a stationary one and I’m thinking, it’s just gonna climb right over that one on it’s way to who knows where, right? But no. It gets on top of the other snail and what?

Him: What?

Me: They start a-rockin’.

Him: No.

Me: Yes. Snail fucking. So I shift my eyes to the top of the rock and same thing up there. I hurry and shift back to the first couple and realize, no need to hurry. These are snails. It’s like it’s own TV channel: all snails, all the time. So that’s what I did on my vacation. Watched snail porno. I’m a snail porno freak. But I figure my vacation is tax deductible now.

Him: How do you figure?

Me: Did you ever see snails fuck?

Him: Can’t say as I have.

Me: I learned a few things.

Him: Oh now that I wanna know.

Me: (winking) I bet you do.

Him: But wait. So how did the snail stab you?

Me: Okay, well I was out there one day. I went out when it was low tide when the water started changing. The tide was rising before it’s usual time and I knew something was up. What I didn’t know was that Hurricane Bonnie was coming through. So I started to walk back through the ocean to the cliffs and the water now had a strong current and it took me and slammed me back into one of the rocks.

Him: So it was really a rock that got you.

Me: No. A snail. You know those big snails with the long, spiral-y pointy shells?

Him: You slammed into one of those?

Me: Yeah.

Him: You were impaled.

Me: I was impaled.

Him: Impaled by a snail.

Me: Right. And the terrible thing was, it went in so deep, all the way to the bone so I couldn’t just pull it out, you know? First off, it was spiral-y and also, if I did, I would bleed and I was still in the middle of the ocean. So unfortunately, I had to take him with me. I felt so bad. I mean here I was, taking him away from his family, maybe to his death. It was awful.

Him: But it impaled you.

Me: I know. But it was an accident. Maybe he was trying to ‘impale’ me somewhere else and just missed his target.

Him: A male snail.

Me: Possibly. And if they have sexes, then they have feelings.

Him: I’m not so sure.

Me: They must cum. Don’t you think? The males anyway. No?

Him: Honestly, I hadn’t thought much about snail sex before this. But who knows.
Me: Right. And then, it was so embarrassing to have to walk down the road with this gigantic snail sticking out of my hip. So I pulled him out in the shower and bandaged it up and when I got back to New York, I went to see my doctor. I love my doctor. You know I don’t see physicians in my business, right?

Him: Isn’t that against the law? To discriminate against any group like that?

Me: You silly! I’m already illegal!

Him: True.

Me: So I went to my doctor whom I love. He’s a little Leprechaun of a man. He’s Irish from Ireland. He used to be a priest but now he’s a doctor. But still gay. Either way. And when he took off the Band-Aid he was like:

"What happened to ya here now?"

And I said, "I was stabbed by a snail—" I was going to say something else when he interrupted and said,

"Oh, so I see they’re movin’ faster these days."

My client laughs.

Me: Then he has to give me a shot.

Him: Tetanus?

Me: I don’t know but it had a needle like this: (I exaggerate the size with my fingers.) About twelve inches.

Him: Or three, if you’re a man.

Me: Exactly. So he says, in his cute Irish brogue,

"Now I want ya to pull up your skirt, pull down your knickers and bend over." And I was like:

"Hey now!"

And he goes, "What? I’m a doctor."

And I’m like, "That’s very expensive, what you’re asking."

And he says, "I’m Gay!"

And I said, "I don’t care. It’s still gonna cost ya."

Him: Now I know what I want to do tonight.

Me: Oh good. I’ve inspired you.

Him: In your own weird way, yes.

Me: What?

Him: I want to see what you learned from snails that would give you a right to a tax deduction.

Me: You want snail sex.

Him: I think I do.

Me: Come with me puppy.

Him: Lead on. I follow.

In the bedroom, I kneel below him. I take his still sleeping cock and caress it against my cheek.

Me: (Looking up to his eyes) I have to get 'him' acclimated to me again, jog his memory.

Him: Acclimate away.

Copying the slow, undulating movements of snail sliding along a surface, my lips pull his cock an inch at a time into my mouth. There, I hold him captive and imagine the locomotion of the snails, mimicking it with my tongue from the base to the tip and back down again. My bottom lip presses hard in to the underside of his shaft. My tongue, flat and wide, rolls and pulls as it moves across the wide terrain of his cock. I open my mouth and let his penis fall sideways over my lips, then scoop him up again, bringing him deep into my throat.

Suddenly, quickly, he grabs my head pulling himself out, cumming hot all over my neck and chin. I hold his thighs to keep him steady. We remain that way for a few moments riding out the after-shocks.

Him: Wow.

Me: Mmmm. Was sexy. Intense.

Him: I’m sorry. I came so soon.

Me: No..it was hot.

I keep a grip on his wobbly knees, hugging them to my face.

Him: Okay. You can let go.

Me: Nu-uh. I don’t have worker’s insurance. If you fall and hurts yourself, you could sue. I’m not bonded.

Him: I think snail sex was more than I could handle. Pretty intense those snails.

Me: They’re good, eh?

Him: Definitely worth the tax deduction.

Me: So what should we do next time? Maybe I could take my next vacation camping. I could watch the spiders. Hey! We could try spider sex.

Him: I think spider sex is out.

Me: Too creepy?

Him: I think the male gets killed in that version.

Me: Or moss. I could watch the moss grow. We could have moss sex! That's not as life and death probably.

Him: You know what?

Me: Huh?

Him: Women are complicated enough. But women combined with snail sex knowledge? I think I better stick with people sex.

Me: And Golf.

Him: Definitely Golf.


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