Light
The light is my lover.
I stare blissfully into the magazine, trapped like a deer when she sees the wolf that is to kill her. The gay pride parade in the city. A pang reached my heart, breaking through the atmosphere of gray apathy and semi-thick, crusted mush like a crushing ball; how I envied the attendees. My spinal skin curled, bathed in the striped sunlight that fell through the spaces within the jealous blinds. My lover was sending lustful tendrils forth, through my body, pulling my groin into random twitches and spasms. I moaned internally. Inside I squirmed lustful, steamy; inside I was feral, lying spread on a patch of earth that lay bare, exposed beneath the balled sky, life moving inside and from me, spearing me, painfully, slowly, smokily. Externally, always wary of my mother, I stared at the pages of my envy, face apathetic and tepid. Alas, I couldn't help but break minutely; I sighed, shallow and measured, and my eyes tightened.
My mother looked up from the counter and over to me, half-bathed in the force stroking, alighting me to orgasm. She'll know, I thought. She'll know I'm about to cum; she'll know I'm in carnal ecstasy.
"Honey..." her mother began as she slowly lowered her plump and cracked body down to her knees. "Is there something we need to talk about?" Mortifying. This is mortifying, I thought. There's probably a support group, where I'll be branded forever as a fetishist. And I'll convince myself I'm wrong, bad, when I need my own love the most. I'm not wrong and I'm not bad. It's just... people just don't understand that you can't always choose what and who you love. Her internal wolf roiled with the latest pull of pleasure. Why couldn't her love be a human, I whined. There are movements, there's hope. Any sort of human. My mother placed her hand on my thigh. "Honey?"
"No." I reply tensely, curing my knees into my upright chest.
"Baby... do you have... urges lately," queried my anxious-looking mother. Uncomfortable, I met her eyes for a brief moment before she bit her lip and looked away.
"I... uh." I looked down, wringing my hands. My mother took the magazine from me and touched the marchers in the picture. "I... honey, are you- do you think you're a lesbian?" What, I thought, stunned. My eyes shot up to meet hers, sure some great, cosmic mistake had occurred. No, she was staring at me, concerned and jumpy. She thought I was gay, a laugh broke inside me, bittersweet.
Surprised and unsure of what to do with this new information, I queried, "And if I am?"
My mother let out a shaky breath. "If you are a les- I mean, if you like other- um, if other young women turn out to be more your cup of- erm. You know. If you date girls, your father and I will, well, it's okay. You can't help it."
A tide of affection swept caustically up my chest. There was hope; my mother might accept me too... but I don't have a movement; no one to lobby my cause. No one but me, and she might not see that as discriminating. She might only apply this acceptance to the popular alternative sexual desires. Still... she was obviously trying so very hard to accept an alternative lifestyle; people aren't stupid. They'll recognize that gay acceptance isn't just about gays- it's about seeing the basic egalitarian worth of everyone and accepting, trying to open your hearts and minds and realizing that different things make different people happy. NOTE: EDIT FOR EXPLICIT?
Humanism, self- humanism, she thought insistently. People must be worth something; people must think more than this. So, she bit her lip, looked her mother in the eye, and blurted, "It's not girls. It's-" here she paused; "the sun," she finished tersely, gaze alternating between her mother's face and the carpet. The words lingered in the silence, the light glinting off the particles of dust, illuminating her face in apparitions of inconstant light. Jewels, she realized; he's giving me jewelry in front of my mother to prove his dedication and worth. Her moment of gratitude was broken by her mother's sudden laughter.
"Oh- I thought." Peals of laughter assumed their dominance of the woman's vocal cords. "I thought you were serious for a moment, honey."
I took a steadying breath and repeated the sentiment: "Mom, I'm sorry but... I'm having an affair with sunlight." At my mother's blank expression, I explained. "I know it's not human, but I love it, mom. I can't help but love it. Like you said, I can't help who I like, right? Right, mom?"
I watched my mother and doubt rained inside of me.
I stare blissfully into the magazine, trapped like a deer when she sees the wolf that is to kill her. The gay pride parade in the city. A pang reached my heart, breaking through the atmosphere of gray apathy and semi-thick, crusted mush like a crushing ball; how I envied the attendees. My spinal skin curled, bathed in the striped sunlight that fell through the spaces within the jealous blinds. My lover was sending lustful tendrils forth, through my body, pulling my groin into random twitches and spasms. I moaned internally. Inside I squirmed lustful, steamy; inside I was feral, lying spread on a patch of earth that lay bare, exposed beneath the balled sky, life moving inside and from me, spearing me, painfully, slowly, smokily. Externally, always wary of my mother, I stared at the pages of my envy, face apathetic and tepid. Alas, I couldn't help but break minutely; I sighed, shallow and measured, and my eyes tightened.
My mother looked up from the counter and over to me, half-bathed in the force stroking, alighting me to orgasm. She'll know, I thought. She'll know I'm about to cum; she'll know I'm in carnal ecstasy.
"Honey..." her mother began as she slowly lowered her plump and cracked body down to her knees. "Is there something we need to talk about?" Mortifying. This is mortifying, I thought. There's probably a support group, where I'll be branded forever as a fetishist. And I'll convince myself I'm wrong, bad, when I need my own love the most. I'm not wrong and I'm not bad. It's just... people just don't understand that you can't always choose what and who you love. Her internal wolf roiled with the latest pull of pleasure. Why couldn't her love be a human, I whined. There are movements, there's hope. Any sort of human. My mother placed her hand on my thigh. "Honey?"
"No." I reply tensely, curing my knees into my upright chest.
"Baby... do you have... urges lately," queried my anxious-looking mother. Uncomfortable, I met her eyes for a brief moment before she bit her lip and looked away.
"I... uh." I looked down, wringing my hands. My mother took the magazine from me and touched the marchers in the picture. "I... honey, are you- do you think you're a lesbian?" What, I thought, stunned. My eyes shot up to meet hers, sure some great, cosmic mistake had occurred. No, she was staring at me, concerned and jumpy. She thought I was gay, a laugh broke inside me, bittersweet.
Surprised and unsure of what to do with this new information, I queried, "And if I am?"
My mother let out a shaky breath. "If you are a les- I mean, if you like other- um, if other young women turn out to be more your cup of- erm. You know. If you date girls, your father and I will, well, it's okay. You can't help it."
A tide of affection swept caustically up my chest. There was hope; my mother might accept me too... but I don't have a movement; no one to lobby my cause. No one but me, and she might not see that as discriminating. She might only apply this acceptance to the popular alternative sexual desires. Still... she was obviously trying so very hard to accept an alternative lifestyle; people aren't stupid. They'll recognize that gay acceptance isn't just about gays- it's about seeing the basic egalitarian worth of everyone and accepting, trying to open your hearts and minds and realizing that different things make different people happy. NOTE: EDIT FOR EXPLICIT?
Humanism, self- humanism, she thought insistently. People must be worth something; people must think more than this. So, she bit her lip, looked her mother in the eye, and blurted, "It's not girls. It's-" here she paused; "the sun," she finished tersely, gaze alternating between her mother's face and the carpet. The words lingered in the silence, the light glinting off the particles of dust, illuminating her face in apparitions of inconstant light. Jewels, she realized; he's giving me jewelry in front of my mother to prove his dedication and worth. Her moment of gratitude was broken by her mother's sudden laughter.
"Oh- I thought." Peals of laughter assumed their dominance of the woman's vocal cords. "I thought you were serious for a moment, honey."
I took a steadying breath and repeated the sentiment: "Mom, I'm sorry but... I'm having an affair with sunlight." At my mother's blank expression, I explained. "I know it's not human, but I love it, mom. I can't help but love it. Like you said, I can't help who I like, right? Right, mom?"
I watched my mother and doubt rained inside of me.