The Senses
The young man wandered through the streets with his satchel flapping at his side. He had no appointments or obligations so he decided to walk until his legs would no longer allow it. It was a cold day. He was well clothed. His hands and face were the only part of his body which turned red with sharp frost. Looking about, he put his hands in his pockets and strolled carelessly about the streets wondering what sights would greet him at each turn.
The footpaths were serene but cars rallied by on the road in accompaniment with a draught from the near-by sea. The sky was grey and now smoky as the fumes from the exhausts shot up into the air and whirled around the redbrick buildings which lined the pavement like trees up a long driveway.
The young man occupied his mind with pleasant reveries of companionship and possession. He had been lonely for much of his life. He never knew his Father and his Mother died when he was a boy. The quiet streets were all he had. Though he always found a place to sleep he never allowed himself to dream for long because he did not want to become wrapped up in his wishes, things he felt he could never have. He would usually trek from place to place working for little money and sleeping with acquaintances before becoming bored and moving on. He never had a woman in his life, only in his mind did he see the touch of a soft hand against his skin.
Today he felt an invigorating compulsion as though something would be different than what he was invited to in his past. He walked further on, moving slower than the wind with his hands flailing in his pockets, looking around like a sage who had seen everything and could be surprised by nothing. Then he heard a whiny yelp from up ahead and he gathered on the childish sound. A little boy raced out of a shop door on a small scooter. The young man watched intently maintaining his placid gait. Another child followed behind the first, this time it was a little girl, similarly on a pink scooter. The two children moaned at one another as though one of them had cheated in a race against the other.
The young man carried on walking, ignoring the caustic chatter of the children until a mature voice rang in his ear. He looked up and a woman had appeared a few paces in front of him. She was wheeling a pram and calling after the two children in front of her.
Immediately the young man was awakened but his dreams were yet to cease. He watched the woman with wide eyes. Her voice, infused with irritation aroused sympathy within him. Though he could not see he was sure there was an even younger child in the pram in front of him. Still the woman called after her children as they raced along the pavement on their scooters but her demands only ricocheted in the ears of the young man and no one else.
Now he watched her as the sound of her voice failed to ignite the passion he sought for so long. The woman was fair with light hazel hair which blew showily in the wind. The young man could not see her face and so studied her subtle body. Suddenly he fell out of control as he gazed on her firm buttocks which seemed to want to escape from her tight jeans. Her buttocks was not large in a fat way, but shapely and round, perfect.
The young man had never seen anything like it, and did not think its existence possible outside his own mind. The woman walked, pushing the pram, and her buttocks swayed from side to side with each hurried step. It acted as a pendulum on the young man’s eyes and he thought the monotonous movement of the buttocks before him would lull him into a hypnotic state of libidinous want. The only thing he could do was reach out and grab it, thus sabotaging the natural waggle of her lower figure.
A loud cry distracted him and he looked ahead. The two children crossed the busy road on their scooters and the woman shouted after them, demanding that they stop immediately. The youngest child in the pram began to cry. The woman stopped and leaned over the pram to comfort the child. The young man came to a halt, not wanting to overtake the woman therefore subverting the view of his desire. He leaned against the nearest wall and focused again on the woman. As she was hoisted forward her coat and undershirt lifted up toward her shoulders and he could now see her white flesh and the apex of her buttocks.
He was ecstatic with want, and now felt closer to the touch he always yearned for, closer than he had ever felt before in his life. His mind devised images and sensations in him, pictures of nakedness and pangs of lust. In his lascivious stupor he fell further behind the woman who carried on down the street with the pram before her. He shot up and pursued her, feeling like a dog being led by a leash, his hands clasping at the air by his side. The woman called again after the children and compelled them to stop with the ferociousness of her volubility. The young man steadied himself, not wanting to be too impetuous. He watched when the woman took her two children at her side and corrected them with the wild whipping of her anxious voice.
He stepped forward, subjecting himself to the propinquity of her impeccable buttocks, and decided he must have this woman if it was the last thing left for him to do. The woman instructed the children across the road and into the park. The crying of the baby in the pram rang out across the streets and the young man turned to see if there was an audience. But the streets had remained deserted.
He followed the woman again as she walked toward the park, he knew that if she entered she would be out of reach and he would be left to writhe in loneliness, dead and untouched. Her buttocks was the jewel at the depths of the deepest ocean, the ocean which he had braved all his life only to encounter empty shells and darkness. Now he only had to reach out and grasp the wholesome bibelot to overcome his lifelong solitude, the arid unsoundly isolation.
He shut his eyes and for the first time in his life he could taste the air which filled his lungs at a relaxed breath. Then he could feel the clothed flesh of the woman’s buttocks in his hand. He stood so close to her that she could feel his warm breath on her neck. He massaged her with his tense grasp and thought he would ejaculate right there if he did not stop. Her fullness excited him so much, it surpassed all the sensational facets of his learned imagination. The soothing ooze of her malleable cheeks was so riveting he thought he could never let her go.
All these sensations and unspoken aphorisms happened so quickly but still he was surprised that the woman had not yet reacted. He opened his eyes and saw her face for the first time. She had luminous white cheeks and full healthy red lips. His pleasure was intense yet so inexperienced that he thought he would bite her if he did not step away. She looked at him, her mouth had dropped in shock but her eyes were passionate despite her cowering shoulders which fell back towards the pram. The young man could not remember the last time he spoke to someone and wondered if he could even remember how to talk.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I…I…’.
The woman concentrated on his face and his unrelenting stare considered her further. Despite all the places he had been and the numerous faces he had seen he could not accurately detect a telling expression on her bright face. He would have to wait for her to move or speak to determine how she felt but did not know if he could wait that long. Dispelling whatever shyness he had cultivated in himself, he moved closer to her, now feeling her hurried breath in his face and went to kiss her. She put her hand on his chest and stopped him.
‘Wait…what are you doing…I can’t’ she said.
Her voice was so different now that she was more tranquil but the remnants of her flustered motherhood remained and the young man could sense this and he put his hands on her waist and pulled her into him. He knew now that she was not frightened of him, instead she was at the foot of her own deep-seated desire; a man to take hold of her and not let her away. He moved in and kissed her, taking the scent of her whirling tongue in his mouth and revelling in that intoxication as it filled his lungs. She responded, pressing his hands harder against her body and massaging her cold cheek on his warm side.
The young man was amazed at her willingness. She should have slapped him and sent him away but instead she was more amenable then he. This turned him on more than anything, knowing that this overworked woman was just waiting to be taken by a hearty young man, one who could bring her back to life with his passion.
‘We can’t do this here…come on’ she said, leading him by the wrist.
She grabbed the pram and dragged it recklessly along the footpath toward a clammy laneway, the young man allowed himself to be taken with her. The child in the pram was crying again, kicking its legs out front. Its mother, ardent with suppressed passion ignored the hissing wails and pushed the young man against a wall and assailed him with her loneliness.
He reacted, grabbing her tightly by the hips and kissing her delicately with his hot tongue. The more she accosted him with her lustful mania the more alive he felt. She hurt him badly with her clawing grip around his arms but he would have wept had she let go, with pain came the actuality of his wishes. He was not dreaming.
She clawed at his body with her hands, taking pleasure in dishevelling his clothes in the midst of her wanton impatience. Now the young man was satisfied with his garb because he enjoyed being manoeuvred and the frost which attacked his nakedness was replaced with the human warmth of the passionate woman. She lifted up his woollen pullover and feasted on his chest, slowly clamping down on his skin with her teeth.
The young man, delirious with arousal, took the woman by her feathery hazel hair and took a large clump of it between his fingers and encouraged her with the rocking motion of his hand on her head. Voraciously, the woman continued to explore the young man with all her viciousness until he pulled her away, afraid that he would climax and release the last force of desire in him. He looked at the woman, now hot and fervid with lust, and grabbed her around the neck, kissing her face and pulling her closer and closer. Then with eyes closed, he remembered her token of pleasure, that which aroused him initially, and grabbed her buttocks with his hands.
The woman groaned with pleasure, finally superseding the impatient cries of the child. The young man discovered the gelatinous flesh of the woman and he wanted to press his face against her buttocks and feel it between his teeth. He desired after every piece of her, he wanted to experience the woman entirely and not be left to wonder about any unknown tool of sexual purveyance.
While the woman, who had been left to toil away with her noisy children and lonesome existence, no longer thought of her children or her duties. Instead she rejoiced in the young man’s hands opening herself to all that he had. He reached around her with one hand and removed her wet panties before swimming in her excitement, slipping his fingers inside her sex. He took all she had because he wanted to wear it on his bare skin. He wanted to possess her body by having it on him. He removed his hand from her, she looked at him and then kissed him while he massaged his body with her warm excitement.
Her touch was all he wanted but now he had so much more. The empty days of his past were reconciled with this presence of possession that was so potent that it clung to his own skin. Now the woman clung, removing her jeans and unzipping him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and breathed heavily and lustfully into his eyes. He had forgotten about the child in the pram, and looked over the woman’s shoulder as she moved back and forth. The child was now asleep. But not like the young man’s hollowness which was entirely full and awake.
Biography
My name is Justin Aylward. I am a writer from Dublin, Ireland. In the past I have published stories for Fairlight Books and Fly on the Wall Press in the UK, for East of the Web, The Write Launch, Route 7 Review, and Squawk Back in the US, and for Idler Online Irish Magazine. I have also written a feature length screenplay, three short film scripts, and a three-act play.