Jude in London by Julian Gough

Author:Julian Gough [Julian Gough]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781906964856
Publisher: Old Street Publishing
Published: 2011-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

48

When I awoke, Angela was sitting naked in the chair beside the bed, watching me. She glistened as though wet, in the light of the little lamp.

“You looked so peaceful, I let you sleep,” she said.

“Oh I’m sorry,” I said. “Have I cost you business? Your other customers…?”

“Oh them.” She shrugged. “The snow’s killed business. I’ve been stuck here for three days and you’re the first one I’ve seen. Even the maid went home yesterday as soon as a snowplough came through.”

“I would imagine you normally have a lot of customers,” I said, and felt a pang of envy for all the men who must have painted her before me.

She shrugged again, and stood. Her golden hair glowed softly in the half-dark.

The mask felt heavy and burdensome, and I small and alone behind it.

“You are very beautiful,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said, and sighed.

She grabbed my Cock and began to Jiggle it.

“Ah, you’ve lost me now,” I said, mystified.

“There, it is hard,” she said and unrolled a rubber Sheath down the length of my cock with her other hand. She lay on her back beside me and spread her legs wide. “Put it in me.”

“Ah!” I said, realization slowly dawning. And I marvelled at her generosity of spirit, and at the swiftness of her perception. She had seen my great love well up in me and, without recognising me, had recognised that love, responded to that love instantly and generously. I did as she commanded.

As we made love in position after position, I examined closer still the curved, oiled surface of my love. Though the light was dim and it was hard to see her face clearly behind the great curtain of her blonde hair, through the eyeholes of the frozen mask, yet I thought Angela greatly changed. She seemed older, and smaller, and more worn by care than I had remembered her. Sweet sorrow filled me, that I had been unable to save her from worry and harm, from shipwreck, rough travel, uncongenial work.

But sorrow made way rhythmically for joy. Joy rose from the physical deeps, summonsed by the friction of our surfaces. Joy descended from the conscious heights, with the knowledge that I was finally consummating my true love; that the one I loved had set aside the terms of my Quest and welcomed me, accepted me, loved me as I was. Joy vanquished sorrow, vanquished the universe, and I spent myself within her.

As I cried out in an Ecstasy of Ecstasy, and joy transformed my features, my cold and frowning Mask was dislodged and flew off, bouncing from Angela’s shoulder to the thin carpet. Angela turned to look upon my face.

As she did so, I made my final shuddering thrust; my hands upon her shoulders; my knees between her parted knees, resting upon her long and golden hair. The suddenness of her turning, and the weight of my kneeling on it gave her hair a mighty tug; it came clear of her head in a mass and fell to the bed, then slithered to the floor.

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