A Cup of Rage by Raduan Nassar Read Free Book Online

her own position, but none of that surprised me, after all I knew her well, the
calibre of the thrashing didn’t matter, she had never had enough, just what would
do, at that moment it was clear that I held the pendulum that had sure control over her
movements, it was clear that I had decisively changed the way time went round, knowing,
as I knew, the immense realms of her gluttony still left to explore, knowing, as I knew,
what changes I was capable of, and it was right here in me that I thought ‘just
wait, you’ll see’ ‘just wait, you’ll see all right’ was
what I thought as I realized that the shit filling my mouth was already leaking out at
the corners, but I didn’t lose any of this intimate substance, Icaught on my tongue whatever was about to drip, what’s more the moment’s
billowing smoke was extremely favourable to occultism, and I wasn’t going to waste
this chance to practise the sorcerer’s fine arts, so it was like this: combusting
drops of fat appeared on the metal of my cheeks, my face started to change, first the
surface of my eyes, and right afterwards the obscene mass of my mouth, in an instant I
was the bastard I was in bed, and in the glow of her eyes I read ‘yes, bastard,
you’re the one I love’, and always attentive to the signals of her flesh I
started to use my tongue silently, sinuously it worked its way into the most
inconceivable of positions, and it wasn’t long before she moved her lips softly
and said an ambiguous ‘you dirty man’, you needed to know her mouth up close
to get what she was saying, and you needed to know this girl and her various moods to
get her suggestion, I pretended that I’d forgotten everything and that the world
had been squeezed down to that one metre in diameter, I was still the bastard I was in
bed and she said ‘you dirty man’ again in a more salacious way, it was the
same as saying ‘ask me to lie down on the lawn’, she who in her bucolic
raptures would always ask me to screw in the woods, so I formed a viper from the slimy
muscle of my tongue, gave it a head and a mean arrogance, ‘m’
‘m’ ‘m’ I said, with a flick of its salacious tip, ‘dirty
man, dirty man’ she said with hypnotized abandon, perhaps already entering a state
of grace, still keeping her nostrils flared, her noisy breath rippling over her body,
her pert breasts rising and falling, all the feathers of her body at the ready, in this
situation it made no difference if you said that the bird was prepared for flight or
that the bird had spread its wings on the ground, and it was to make her even more drunk
with desire that I lifted my hand close to her face, and began to run my middle finger
along her lower lip, and first there was a trembling, then an intense burning, slowly
her mouth was opening for a perfect performance, and we started to say things to eachother through our eyes (this language that I also taught her), and
attentive to her mouth, I got it to fake as if it were … I was clearly saying with
my eyes ‘you’d never imagined that your body had a spot so perfect for this
finger of mine until I penetrated you and you moaned’, and immediately her eyes
screamed back at me ‘dirty man dirty man dirty man’ as if they were saying
‘tear me open bleed me step on me’, and I felt the tip of her tongue
touching my finger, furtively licking my nail, and felt her teeth, that were no longer
sharp, nibbling the humid pulp, she sucked greedily on my bait, we were watching each
other, and birdlime oozed from her pupils, and it was just as if I were hearing what
she’d said so often in that ambivalent way ‘I never met anyone who works
like you, you’re the best craftsman for my body, no question’, and so I
carried on modelling a wantonness in her mouth, and then my hand slid down to the
plaster of Paris of her throat, and it didn’t take long before her ravenous
sucker-pores swallowed my fingers, and with my dirty mouth I said ‘I’m
barefoot’ and