A Ceremonies Excerpt

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Cost  of Ceremonies will be $11, shipping and handling included, from now on.  If requested, I will sign copies, too.  (I have forgotten how to change the price on Paypal.  I will do shortly.  Please send $11, despite what it says).ceremoniesbook
The Paypal account for Ceremonies is active.  You may order a copy at Purchase Ceremonies.  You can also make out a check to “Ceremonies” and mail it to “Ceremonies, PO Box 4055, Roanoke VA 24015”.    I encourage you to order from me through Paypal or the PO Box as I will make more money. (It’s not easy being a starving artist!)
Ceremonies is also available as an ebook.  Cost is $3, from now on.  I can send it to you as a PDF.  (As above, I have forgotten how to change the price on Paypal.  I will do shortly.  Please send $3, despite what it says).
I also plan to peddle it through other sources, like Amazon and Lulu.  And to promote it any way I can.
I have begun to place Ceremonies on book blogs, like Goodreads.   (A link to Ceremonies, print book, and a link to Ceremonies, ebook, have been added to the Links page).
Thanks to everyone who has expressed interest in Ceremonies.
For the complete manuscript of Ceremonies, please click on The Book Ceremonies.











30.  When I thrust
When I thrust my tongue into Valentine’s vagina for the very first time, her hand half-rose to her mouth, and she blinked delicately.  After a moment, her hands slid onto her belly.  She fanned her fingers across her modest navel.
I licked at the right lip and then the left lip.  As I sucked hard, they squeezed into my mouth.  It was early spring; the smell of the roses below Valentine’s window filled the room.  My fingers settled onto her oval thighs.  I flicked my tongue against her clit, pushing it around for a while.  Her hair shone now with the juice.  I slid my tongue deep within her.
Valentine rocked her head from side to side, lips pursed, eyes half-closed.  She placed her hands on my shoulders and bent forward.  After I thrust my tongue inside again, I rippled her musky vagina.  I ground at her, my face wet.  She moaned and closed her thighs against my cheeks.  I heard someone come into her parent’s house downstairs.
I bounced my tongue within Valentine.  Quickly I massaged with it. Her hips jerked up and down suddenly several times.    She slumped back and listed sideways on her creamy bedspread.  When her hands left my shoulders, she began flushing.  She smiled weakly, long blonde hair strewn across the pillow, small buttocks flattened out.  On her slight, vulnerable breasts her nipples were hard like needles.  She put her teeth jagged against her lower lip.
33.  Description One
Valentine’s pink cotton shirt.  Her breasts not large but well-shaped.  Arms slightly muscled and elegant.  Firm and the flesh pale with goose-bumps.  Ribs rippling faintly, and a neat line between them, where they divided.  The skin tanned with downy hair.  Her stomach rounded, though only gently.  Her navel a tiny, simple slit.
Valentine’s jeans.  Her small, soft buttocks.  The zip.  Coin slot of cunt. Her belly between narrow, slightly boyish hips.  Ending in long, coltish legs.  Ragged tennis shoes.  Long, slender toes.
43.  List Four
Valentine lay curled in the crook of my arm, sleeping.  Her warm, steamy breath tickled my neck.  I read “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place” with amazement.  I woke her to tell her about the story.  She peered at me grumpily and shook her head.
I kissed her.  It was morning.  Her mouth needed cleaning.
Valentine blushed at the mere sight of my penis.  She got really red.  Laughing, she covered her face with both hands.  Her rounded eyes peered through her fingers.  She bent her fingers and placed the tips of them over her mouth.
Miss Gifford directed a girl to cross the stage.  I had laid down on the stage, for my role in The Lottery, the spring school play.  The girl objected, however, because she had to step over me and she was wearing a skirt.  So I flipped over.  I heard her chuckle.  As she stepped over me, her foot grazed my butt.
In one hand I held a brush.  I flipped around to examine my portrait of Valentine more closely.  Oil paint sprayed all over her.  She squealed.
Since she had her period, she gave off a vivid smell.
Emily, a friend, came up to me at my school locker.  She asked me to wear a black armband because of the war.  It was spring, May Day.  Nervously I turned her down.  She nodded, putting her hand on my shoulder.
After I told a dirty joke, Valentine froze.  She avoided my eyes, got beet-red and turned away.
I leafed through the Life magazine about Peter Max.  I adored his paintings.  Jones had given me the issue.
Valentine slurped at my penis.  She popped up and laughed outright at how it throbbed.
After I grabbed Valentine, she hugged me, snaking her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.  She stroked my shaggy hair.  Then, child-like, she kissed me on the tip of the nose.  Her lips parted, and her braces appeared.





I lay naked with Ross
I lay naked with Ross in the grey room, my heart beating hard.  Though we had removed our clothes, I still felt very warm.  Her animal scent was heavy and forbidding.  I gazed at her triangle of hair, squat and black.  Then I stared across the room, without thought.  Wind hissed through the trees outside her Douglas East dorm room.
Tentatively I slipped my arm around Ross and grazed my lips against her cheek.  She returned my kiss hungrily.  I placed the palm of my hand against her fat, little breast.  We kissed again, thorough, patient.
I lay mute for about ten minutes, aware of the heat of Ross’ body.  Trembling, I slid my leg over both of hers, pressing my weight against her belly.  I flicked an index finger inside against her cunt’s pliant walls and yanked it up and down.  She moved convulsively.  We exchanged some words.  Then my cock, erect against her perineum, jerked briefly and almost unnoticeably, wetting the pink cotton sheets beneath us.
A few minutes later, Ross stroked my cock, like a small, wet bud now.



144.  List Eleven
The Yellow Kid checked out my rack insolently, out of the corner of her eye, her face tilted up, at Realtek.  Then she opened her mouth and stared intently at my groin.  Her head dropped, and her eyes flicked up to mine.  They flicked back between my legs. She turned back to the plastic injection machine she was operating.
She crouched in front of a big mirror set on the floor, putting on her make-up, naked.  Her eyes narrowed.  She half-smiled, coldly.
The Yellow Kid made a face before her lips touched my penis.  After a few perfunctory sucks, she slumped back on her heels and twisted her head away.  She passed the back of her hand over her lips once.  Rain clicked against the window of my apartment softly.  When she took my penis back in her mouth, her eyes closed, and her nostrils flared.
The side of my hand folded into her rubbery breast by mistake.  She slapped my face on purpose.
Before I saw her, I recognized her by her scent.
She whispered that she kind of liked to see me climb up the stairs with stargazer lilies and a hard-on.
Since she lay hidden beneath the sheets, I couldn’t tell which end was which.
She bent over to pick up an oil portrait of mine and straightened.  She wedged her thumbs under her tight, pink panties to pull them down over the half-moons of her ass, her narrow hips swinging up one at a time.
At Realtek Victoria, a married woman, called me over to the plastics press at which she was working.  She said that her grinder machine had seized up.  I picked up an iron bar, inserted it and worked the blades loose.  Victoria smiled brightly, held my eyes and touched my arm.  She wiggled her breasts.  I stalked away, grimacing.
The Yellow Kid held her hand over the telephone speaker as, laughing, she tried to set up a blind date for me.
The Yellow Kid snatched at my small, soft buttocks constantly.
145.  She lay sprawled
She lay sprawled across the bed so I brought her a cone of red and yellow irises.  Smiling, I scattered them across her rounded shoulders and breasts, which were the color of just fallen snow.
169.  Her strong, once broken mouth
Her strong, once broken mouth had held many things -tongue, cock, word, wine.


181.  I kept thrusting
I kept thrusting, popping past a ring of muscles in Janie’s cunt.  Her skin, particularly around her breasts, began flushing.  I dropped down and nibbled her neck.  Slowly I pumped.  As my cock rocked from side to side, she grabbed my face and stuck her tongue in my mouth She groped for my butt.  I rose on locked arms and started thrusting quicker, the ring of muscles still massaging my cock.  Her chunky right leg half-tossed over mine.  She bucked her belly against my belly, grunting like an animal.  We moved faster.  My balls strained and strained.  We slowed.  When I tried to pull my sheathed cock out, she wouldn’t let me, at least not right away.


183.  I loved
I loved the things she did in the ear to me.
193.  Sarah rose up on her knees
Sarah rose up on her knees, grasped my penis and sunk it inside herself.  As our hair meshed, her cool buttocks curled down over my thighs.  A candle flickered behind us.  She wriggled her hips, my cock moving deep within her.  Briefly I closed my eyes.  As she laughed, her breath hissing in and out of her mouth, she bounced up and down a bit.  For a moment she swayed, her small breasts shifting.  Squishing, she arched up and fell down my hard penis.  She began going backward and forward from my hips.  Softly she moaned.  Her belly rippled.  I tightened my leg muscles.
When Sarah rocked on me, her breasts shuddered.  I started groaning.  The candle wavered behind her.  After more thrusts, I grabbed her hips and jerked up to meet her.  Our mingled grunts filled my apartment.  Wind sighed.  Sweat pooled on my chest.  As my breathing deepened, her hips accelerated.  She squealed, saliva flying from her mouth.  I slammed her down on me.  Her head dropped, and her lips sagged.  She jammed her thighs against me and moaned.  I inhaled, then emptied inside her.
213.  Sarah clapped her hands
Sarah clapped her hands together delightedly when she saw that my penis was
hard at last.  Giggling, pert breasts bouncing, she scrambled for a condom but tripped.






240.  In the darkness
In the darkness Ann reached toward me and pursed her fingers against my zipper.  She tugged my jeans open, snaked her hand inside and grasped my penis.  Gently she drew it out, flopping a little against her fingers.  We lay on a blanket at Coney Island.  Languidly she bent down, her coarse, braided hair streaming forward, her brown eyes slitted.  She kissed the soft, pliant tip.  Her pink tongue swirled against its length.  Murmuring, she sucked the glans past her broad lips.
249.  I rested
I rested on my side, one leg bent at the knee.  Gently I caressed my inner thighs and balls.  I grasped the shaft of my penis and massaged it.  As my forefinger and thumb rubbed my scrotum, I inhaled deeply and shook my head.  My thoughts were about Sarah.
I stroked my swelling penis, then paused.  My fingertips massaged my balls lightly.  After I fondled my belly and thighs, I inhaled and exhaled quickly.  I jerked my penis, then stopped and waited.  Bit by bit my body tightened, then relaxed.  I grabbed my hard penis again and pumped it up and down.  As my balls began to strain, my hand faltered.  Then white spunk spurted over my fist thickly, running down my fingers and catching between them.
252.  Ann strode toward
Ann strode toward the living room couch in her apartment, crashed down and poked me sharply.  She snorted at me.  It was dark; tenements across Third Avenue blocked the sun.  A summer breeze tumbled through a nearby window.  “Zombie” crooned on the radio.  We kissed, then she lifted her loose, white t-shirt up over her head.  She yanked her braids back roughly into a ponytail.  After my arms looped around her tiny waist, her arms linked around my neck.  She spoke to me, slurring her words, her brown eyes slitted.
Ann clicked open the catch of her jeans and wrestled them off.  Clumsily she tugged a thin tampon out.  She shoved her jeans to the floor, grabbed a towel from the nightstand and stuffed it under her hips.  Quickly she wrapped her arms around my neck and swung my lips to hers again.  One of her legs flew over both of mine and weighed them down.  She put her hand on my hip, then grabbed my ass.
We kissed again, our tongues flicking, still lying on our sides.  Ann flipped over and fit her broad ass against my belly, like spoons.  Her left shoulder blade was adorned with a yellow cow tattoo.  I rolled a condom on.  She grasped my cock and jammed it between her legs and into herself.  I grabbed one of her large breasts.  As she turned her head, we kissed again.  I began rippling in and out.  The couch springs squeaked.  She moaned and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face.  Hoarsely she whispered to me.
I dispatched my semen inside of Ann, bit by bit.  She rocked her hips fast, then slow, and seized my hand, suddenly inhaling.  Her back was sweaty.  After her legs lifted, she rolled away.  The condom was streaked with blood.  Gazing me with narrowed eyes, she rose and pulled her t-shirt and jeans on.  She curled up on the window seat.
Ann suddenly snarled that she didn’t think she wanted to fuck me again.
276.  Marthe smiled
Marthe smiled when I unbuttoned the thin sweater she wore.  As I pulled it off, she bowed her head.  I shivered.  When I cupped her breast, its thick, brown nipple stirred. Downy hair rose on her skin.
Marthe had met me outside the Paradise Club.  She was a dancer there.  From the N train, through the heat, we had walked over to my apartment.  Sweat had run down our bodies in streams.
But here it was cooler.  Only grey light disturbed the darkness, wafting across the floor.  As Marthe took my shirt, it sent her serene face into shadow.  Her bell-shaped breast was warm now under my fingers.  When I looked at her, her green eyes seemed mesmerized.  She touched her long, auburn hair vacantly, then lifted her arms to me.
After a while, Marthe stopped nuzzling my jawline.  She stood in the window’s shaft of dust motes and light, then apart from me in the late afternoon shade.  Bending, she slid off her jeans.  When I held out my hand to her, she slipped her hand into mine.  In bed we took hold of one another.
279.  Description Eleven
My penis was long and thick, a deep pink, lined with blue veins.  Thick, black
hair curled at the root, spreading across and downward.  The skin was soft, the core firm.  Underneath it ran a wide, bulging vein.  A ring of tender skin erupted suddenly into the glans.  The tip was shaped like a condottiere’s helmet, peaked, arched.  A small slit crowned it.
Beneath my penis nestled my two thick, narrow testicles.  They were draped in a loose pouch of skin, which were covered with light hair.  Veins crisscrossed them.



334.  List Twenty-four
The phone rang.  It was Elle, calling me from New York City.  She informed me that I had sold several portraits to the Marquise de Marmyon.  She said to me that the fees added up to a lot of money.  When I hung up and reported this to Red Cloud, she hopped up and down, yipping.
I asked Red Cloud about birth control.  She smiled brightly and replied, pilule contraceptive.
 At the Le Royal café on the Port-Royal Red Cloud and I sat eating lunch and watching passersby.  She held my hand as I munched my fromage grillé.
Delicately Red Cloud fixed a girdle of bluebells about her naked hips.  Her breath smelled of gin.
I confided to her that it was taking me a while to get used to sleeping with someone every night again.  I could only seem to nap lightly.
I asked Red Cloud where she got her name.  She said her parents were acrobats, and people had names like that in the circus.
From under the green silk robe, from between her fat, curved breasts, she removed a spray of rose plum and presented it to me sweetly.  It had a mingled smell of the flower and of her body.
At a particular moment, for no obvious reason, she quoted an unknown but strangely exciting poem to me.
A tender, black flower gored by a thick, brown root, above the cheeks of her ass, below my belly.
In the early evening, in hot mid-summer, Red Cloud and I curled up on the low wall in the Place de Grève, the square before the l’Hôtel de Ville.  A man with a red hoop performed.  People watched the merry-go-round.  Across the Seine the lights of the Left Bank sparkled.
In the Musée de l’Érotisme in Pigalle, when we looked at the dildos, Red Cloud poked me gleefully.
Red Cloud called out to me that my mother was on the phone.  Mom chatted with me brightly.  She confided that she was planning to get a ring through her eyebrow for her 82nd birthday.   I smiled and muttered, okay.  Then she sang out that she loved me and hung up.
As I listened, Red Cloud and her friends started playing “Badge”.  Now and then they performed in a band on Pont Neuf, not far from where we lived.  She sang and played her red accordion, grinning gleefully.
Red Cloud’s scent and stain varied.
360.  My lover handed me a sheet of paper
My lover handed me a sheet of paper.  She kissed me on the lips, then hurried out the door.  I sat down on the wide windowsill in the sunlight and unfolded the paper.  It was a vivid description of the night before.  She was unusually graphic, unconsciously poetic.  Without opinion she used obscenities several times.  The heavy paper smelled of lavender.  A thick spray of purple asters was attached to it.  Sometimes she wrote me such things afterwards.



380.  Her light
Her light brown hair shone where the sun hit it.  She had pearl skin.  Her eyes were large and clear.  She was plain-spoken.