November 23, 2009

A NaNowriMo Excerpt

I hit 65,000 words yesterday! I haven't written yet today, but I'm going to a little writing/work party later this afternoon, so I'll get stuff done then. Anyway, I decided I was finally willing to put up an excerpt from the novel so far. Caveats: this whole thing is being written quite quickly, with no strong concern for historical accuracy (I'll fix that in the editing process), and I have not yet done ANY editing whatsoever.

In this chapter, Jesus and Mary Magdalene consummate their love for each other. It's highly erotic. So I've put it behind a cut for those who do not want to read it.



A bowl of fruit on the table. Figs, dates, apples. He picks up one of the red fruits, admires it, as if he can use it to make some sort of point, as if it is possible that he can best her intellectually with it. Instead, without a word, he holds it to her lips. "Bite," he says, and she obeys, crunching her teeth into the apple, her saliva beginning to gush with the tartness, her body excited by the presence of the first food in hours. She chews, she swallows, she bites again, taking a larger chunk this time, giving into the demands of her appetite, refusing to deny herself either nourishment or pleasure. Chew, bite, chew, bite, until the apple is gone and she is sucking the juice from his fingers, eager to consume every last drop of liquid, every last particle of sugar. And then when his hand has been licked clean, he kisses her, so he can have some taste of the fruit. His tongue invading her entire mouth, her lips, her teeth, in an attempt to obtain some of the nourishment she has so greedily digested. And then their hands meet, but do not stay clasped for long, for there are other parts of the body, parts which these hands have not yet explored (for Mary was never a whore, I tell you, we are not who you think we are - not just me, but all of us). So then his hands move into her hair, and hers onto his neck, and they both begin to work their way down, feeling all of the curves and angles and planes beneath their clothes. He has never touched a woman's breasts before, never felt their weight, their roundness, their surprising heaviness, their texture, and now he is beginning to explore those tactile sensations over the red fabric of her dress. And she has never touched, much less seen, a man's exquisite hardness, but she feels it begin to lift against her leg, and she brings her hand down to it precisely so that she can feel it harden more and more, become taller and taller, under her palm. And he has never smelled or tasted a woman, not really, nor discovered how deliciously wet she can become. But he is getting closer and closer to finding this out as he loosens her belt, as he opens her clothes, as they fall to the floor. And she does the same, undressing him just as quickly, not as an expert would, but as someone impossibly excited. She is clumsy and works so fast that she ends up being slowed down by stubborn knots. But finally, finally, they are naked as Adam and Eve were back in the garden on that first day, and he is nearly as ignorant as Adam was, and she is just as stubborn and smart and cunning as Eve. A new child of god (supposedly), with the woman who could lead to his downfall, who does lead to his downfall, but not in the way he imagines. She will cast him out of his troubled Eden, but for whatever reason he cannot see that far into the future (so perhaps he was not divine, if he could not discern the consequences of these actions), or he did not care, it did not matter in this moment, because here was her naked body, and here was his, and all they wanted was each other. And the room is sparse, but they do not care. He leads her to a pallet, where they can lie together, where they can continue to touch, explore all the different textures and tones that skin can take on a single body, where they can find all the different places that hands can travel and explore and find, where they can find out how the neck tastes, how the chest tastes, how the arms taste, how the belly tastes, how the penis tastes, how the clitoris tastes, how the vagina tastes. Nothing too prolonged, for they are too eager. Nobody orgasms yet, because each lick and suck and stroke and kiss lasts only seconds before a hand or a mouth eagerly moves out to try a new part of the body, to revisit something only fluttered against minutes before, to try the next new limb or nook. But while they are in a hurry to cover all the territory of the body, they are in no hurry to have orgasms, they in fact have not yet imagined orgasms. For he may be a sage, but he is largely innocent of what base mortals do. And she is somewhat educated, but a member of the upper class (formerly), raised in a very proper world, and she was denied sexual education, so they are both moving entirely on instinct, both simply trying to understand what is happening to their bodies, to find out what they love, to experiment. Neither of them has been told what to do - they are as innocent as that couple in the garden. But he is driven by the urge to taste her entire body, and so he finds his way down between her legs, and his tongue caresses her thighs, and then nervously makes its way directly between them, and somehow locates the clitoris without knowing what it is (so maybe he was divine after all), and proceeds to press against it, to wet it even more than it had been on its own, and pe4rhaps his licking is overzealous and messy, but she does not know better, and anyway she loves the sensation, the way she drips even more, and she is flattered by his enthusiasm. And suddenly, without knowing quite exactly what is happening, she experiences that first orgasm - a trembling in her clitoris that becomes so violent that it shoots down her legs, up her belly, causing her back to arch and her legs to spasm and her voice to make itself heard for the first time since she was offered that apple, but it reveals no words - words are not even necessary now. All that arises from her throat is a scream that starts as a moan deep inside, and as it climbs out through her mouth becomes a loud, high-pitched yelp of joy and surprise.


And he is not sure entirely how he can experience that as well, but he knows he wants to, and so climbs back up her body, and suddenly he realizes that his penis should be inside of her, that the root of pleasure is stored in the space between her legs, and with a little effort and confusion, he finally enters her, and he is stunned by the way he feels, the way her muscles grip tightly to him, the way they might never let him go. For a few moments, he just sits there, and neither of them are sure what to do. The apple, delicious as it was, did not endow them with such earthly knowledge. But finally, he starts to move, to thrust slowly, and notices that the faster he goes, the better he feels, so he speeds up to the point where he can barely control himself, and he is almost afraid he is hurting her, but she is still making those gutteral moans, albeit slightly weaker than she had been doing before. And he moves faster, faster, until he feels that explosion radiate up and out from his penis, both out into her and out up through the rest of his body. And he has filled her, and in this moment, he has fathered a child, although either of them knows it, neither of them can truly conceive of it yet, could imagine that a child could result from this union. All that matters is the sensation, the way he fills her, and that they both feel completely loved.


And then they curl up together, his hot liquid seeping out of her body, dripping out into the pallet, mixed with her own juices. They hold each other, they confess their love for each other, they kiss, and then they doze off, skin to skin, the only warmth they need. And in this happiest moment the future begins to unravel, all he, all they, all we have worked for begins to crumble.

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