Last Rites

This is another story that breaks a taboo that prevents it from ever seeing print.

We are not comfortable combining sex, love and death. In my experience, seeing those you love die changes everything. Love and sex are the antithesis of death. They assert and create life. Yet we all die.

“Last Rites” looks at one woman’s defiance of death’s dominion.

Last Rites

© Mike Kimera 2002

Nathalie had always loved Luca’s cock. It was beautiful: smooth, strong, dark, responsive – Luca in miniature. Holding it brought her peace. It helped her narrow her focus until nothing in the world existed except her and the arousal she created and craved.

Kneeling on the bed, bent over in an almost foetal position between Luca’s legs, she caressed his cock: running the shiny tip over her tongue in small circles, cradling his balls in one hand, gently milking the base of his shaft with the other. She loved this part, before his cock became fully hard and slapped up against his belly, when he was still growing in her hand, twitching on the tip of her tongue. The first pre-cum appeared. Nathalie took it as a signal to suck his crown into her mouth and hold it there, savouring it.

Outsiders had never understood her relationship with Luca. A middle-aged lawyer was not supposed to be with a young actor who had spent most of his career waiting tables. Her colleagues had looked at Luca’s slim hips and handsome face, smiled and given her kudos; he was a better accessory than a new Ferrari. Luca’s family had shunned her. She was a predator, stealing their son’s youth. None of them understood their love for each other.

All her life Nathalie had been surrounded by articulate men, who wooed her with words, respected her mind, shared her cultural interests and made love to her using all the techniques that the sex manuals recommended.

Luca had never once made love to her, he had always fucked her or let her fuck him. The first time he took her she felt like someone who had always swum in a pool and had finally discovered the crashing waves and strong currents of the open sea.

She’d been watching him for three days, going back to the restaurant he worked at just to be able to look at him. On the fourth night he hadn’t been on duty. She ate her meal without tasting it and left. He was leaning against her car, waiting for her. He didn’t speak, he just kissed her, then he walked her to his flat and spent the night fucking her. She didn’t know his name until the following morning.

Nathalie released Luca’s cock from her mouth. It was rigid now, hard to hold onto, ready to ride. She let her eyes track up his lean body, still muscled although the tan had faded. He looked perfect. It was hard to accept that he was almost dead. Only the ventilator marred the picture. It looked like some alien predator attacking his neck. She hated it, even though she knew it was doing Luca’s breathing for him.

Nathalie had insisted that Luca had physio every day. The muscle wastage was minimal, bedsores had been avoided. It seemed that at any moment he might wake, smile at the attention she was paying him, and pin her to the bed to take his revenge. The doctors said that it was never going to happen. They described his condition as a persistent vegetative state. Brain dead. The lights were on but no one was home.

Sliding upwards over Luca’s body, feeling the warmth of his skin, Nathalie rested her head on his chest so that she could listen to the beat of his heart. He felt so alive against her, except that his arms were still at his sides when they should have been stroking her; his eyes were closed when they should have been ranging over her body, drinking her in. She wanted to slap him, to make him wake, to insist that he paid her attention. She wanted him back.

It was part of her promise to herself that she would not cry tonight, their last night together. Luca’s family were having the machine turned off. She had fought them in the courts but she had no status. She was not family; she was just his lover. He was just her reason for living. They had described her as a vampire, a ghoul, a selfish predator. They demanded their son’s right to die, promising to involve the newspapers and create a scandal if he was not “released into the next world.”

Nathalie didn’t believe in the next world. She knew she was losing Luca forever. She had denied her loss in the first days of the coma, refusing to leave his side, sleeping in his bed when the nurses finally left them alone together. That’s when she discovered that Luca still reacted to her presence. They had always been able to arouse each other easily; Luca said it was a genetic thing, two sets of genes calling to each other demanding to be combined. For one wonderful night Nathalie had nursed Luca’s erection, certain that it proved he would come back to her. The next day a doctor had told her that it was just reflex, an involuntary response. Nathalie thought that that was a fitting description of their whole relationship: an involuntary response.

She knew that Luca’s erection had to be more than a nervous tick. She decided that it was his way of trying to reach her. It had always been his way of trying to reach her. Tonight they would touch for the last time. Tonight she would try to conceive his child.

Nathalie sat up astride Luca’s hips. She closed her eyes and pulled at her nipples, making herself wet. She wanted their child to be conceived in pleasure. Reaching between her legs she guided Luca into her. They had laughed at what a snug fit he was. She had told him that she was a lock and he was her key. Feeling him inside her now, having him so present and yet so absent was almost unbearable. She lifted his lifeless hands and placed them on her breasts, holding them there as she rocked against his erection.

Nathalie had known that she would need something extra to get her through tonight. There was a memory she kept locked away: a treasure that she only let herself visit infrequently so it wouldn’t be devalued. They had taken the ferry from Portsmouth to Santander, a twenty-four hour trip over rough seas. Luca had arranged a cabin for them: small, no windows, deep in the bowels of the ship. They had spent the whole journey in their cabin. With the lights off, the room was completely dark. They could hear the rumble of the engines and feel the ship’s movement. Luca had become her anchor on the world. She had felt as though only his cock inside her prevented her from floating into nothingness. She recalled that memory now, savouring it, letting it arouse her. She pressed down on Luca, wanting to feel him push up into her, wanting his hands to grip her breasts, wanting him not to be dead, wanting him to give her a child.

She managed not to cry until after Luca came inside her. Then she collapsed on his chest, feeling him shrink, letting herself say goodbye to him at last. There was no urgency now, she was pregnant, she had to be, otherwise there was no meaning. She would lie beside him until morning. When his family arrived tomorrow to “release” their son, she would be gone but she would be taking Luca with her.

 


 

© Mike Kimera 2002 All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from mikekimera@yahoo.co.uk

 


 

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