JESUS NATION SEX REBEL, mini-chapter 31

31. THE WORSHIP

She opened the door and walked in ahead of him. It was dark. Then the light went on. He saw a picture of Jesus in the foyer, the eyes uplifted, the hair long and brown, the face drawn and ascetic. She walked into a living room, and there were more pictures of Jesus. Some of them were looking right at him. He felt his burgeoning erection retract, the head of a turtle drawing back inside its shell.

“Sit down,” she said, and walked into the kitchen. She returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. He sat on a red couch. There was a lot of red in the apartment. He wondered if it represented the blood of Christ.

She handed him the bottle and watched him turn the corkscrew in the cork, tug, and then pour. The wine was full-bodied and tart. She sat across from him. They had not spoken. There was a question in her eyes. He got up and stood next to her. He leaned over. She looked up at him. Here it comes, she thought. Good, we shouldn’t waste time. This is about science. I want to overcome my Secret Sexual Lack -- the sooner we get down to it, the better.

She met his lips with hers. They kissed softly, almost platonically, like opening a bank account with a modest deposit while the bulk of the money still nestles under a mattress at home.

He pulled away and looked down. Breasts. He wanted to slide down their fullness on psychic skis. He licked her ear. She turned away, and he buried his nose in her neck, blowing softly on her shoulder. Her hand cupped his head. He moved his tongue over her throat. She nibbled his ear. They sought out each other’s mouths and kissed harder. His tongue snaked between her lips, and her tongue slithered around his.

He knelt beside her, his one knee by her thigh. Their lips left each other. He looked at her and she looked at him. Immediately he found her mouth again and smothered it with his. His hand moved over her breast, and he felt a hard nipple. His thumb stroked it. She took his hand and went down on her knees, pulling him down to his knees beside her. She was suddenly shy about her body, this body she had wondered about, whether any man would want it.

“Dear Lord,” she said, “forgive us for what we are about to do. We recognize that this act is taking place outside the bonds of matrimony. We are heartily sorry, but we submit, in fear of Your righteous retribution, that in the end this is one of the ways that we as poor sinners can find out if we’re compatible enough to get married and commit this act in a decent way inside the holy sacrament of matrimony. We do this not for pleasure, but only to discover if we have enough in common to bring the concept of marriage into focus. Indeed, if that happens, we will dedicate our union to Your glory. Allow us this act of sin, which we are committing in accordance with the Dating Protocols of the Bureau of Behavior Design and Management, aren’t we? We promise to mortify ourselves afterwards. Amen.”
“Amen,” Adam said.

She looked at Adam and made him sit on the couch, while she remained on the floor. She opened his fly. He struggled to get his pants down over his hips, and she flung the clothing away once it was off.

She lowered her head, bowing before his erection. This is the male scepter, Eve thought. This is the organ of worship, from whence comes the holy seed of life. This is the rod of maleness. Here, in front of my lips, stands the very god of fertility.

FELLATIO AND CUNNILINGUS PUT THE DEVIL’S TONGUE IN YOUR MOUTH.

This was one slogan of the Reformation that Eve did not feel herself bound to follow. She had her own ideas about sex, just as she had her own ideas about the oppression of her gender. She was in fact developing an entire new theory of sex, all her own, which she wanted to propagate once she was in a position to do so.

Eve raised her hands as if in prayer, and placed them on either side of the small god. She bent over it and kissed the tip with great humility, as if she were touching the source of life.

Adam watched her bent head. He wanted to stroke her breasts, but he felt helpless. Is this how God feels, he wondered, watching a supplicant submit? Unable to interfere with the worship, because it puts Him at the center, as the receiver, and therefore unable to act?

Now she folded her lips over the top of his shaft, and slid them down further and further, until she held the head like an apricot in her mouth. She felt she was worshipping at the very core of Godhood, putting a prayer into action, communing with an antenna that pointed to the heavens from whence its power came. She felt humbled by its swollen potency, and wanted to soothe its earthly anguish. She wanted to dedicate her entire being, flowing from her tongue, to consoling, comforting and glorifying it. She wanted to bless it with an emphatic soul and a ready body. This was the altar on which she would lay her sex. Here was the god she knelt before, the sign of God’s omnipotence.

Adam felt as though a genteel bat had settled on his body, a polite animal that wanted to pull at his stem like a sculptor pulling at clay, to fashion more than a symbol of the phallic from it. His member vanished into a vertiginous, moist flower of pleasure – what a cliché sex was -- and his mind, his limbs, his heart, his head, all vanished, all were gone, all had flowed into the fork of his legs, all were plunging down there like water rushing over a cliff.

He was present but absent. A taut string was being pulled back, back, and an arrow readied for a bull’s eye. Through the growing intensity, she was pulling at his heart, opening it out, turning it over, pulping it, raking it, ready for a new beginning.
His throat was set in one long gasp. He tried not to shout. He didn’t want to distract her.

Eve’s eyes were closed. She thought of God. She thought of the precious fluid within. She called upon it. Her tongue twirled. She felt she was fashioning a song of praise, a hymn of worship. She felt small and humble, and grateful.

Here was her grace.

His hips strained and lifted against her. She coaxed him with her fingers. The muscle grew bigger, as if pressed from within.

“Aaaaaah.”

It shook in her mouth, and pulsed, and the wetness rippled out against the inside of her mouth. Her tongue darted to the saltiness. She felt Adam pulse again and again, filling her mouth with more substance. She thought: this is God’s gift. This is how He replaces Himself on earth. This stands in for Him. This is His force down here. Now I taste His essence.

She lifted her mouth off Adam and looked up at him in prayer. He saw her eyes, submissive and shiny. He saw something move in her neck.

Looking at his distended, wrought face, she bent her head forward, then threw it back, and swallowed.

“Amen,” she said.