Misogynistic Fantasies Ch 07

(The actuality behind the bookstore slave girl fantasy.)

First off, I am nothing like what he depicts me as. I mean, he himself isn't actually like what he depicts ...

Well, it is true that I did say to him "How do you guys find this stuff" or something like that. And we did have coffee. But come on, you think he'd actually bring a Gor book with him when he got a girl to go have coffee with him?

But he is kind of nice, in a scruffy professorial way. And he was right that I am a graduate student. And lucky for him the thesis I was working on was about Rilke.

Oh? You read stuff by someone who calls himself Rilkehorseandrider and you can't even bother to look up who Rilke was? Ok, I'll wait here; go google him.

You didn't bother to google did you? You just kept reading. Now that I'm a character in a written story I realize what god-like powers you readers have. Hey stop that. I don't want to anymore. I say no! No means no.

?

Huh!

Donkey turds.

See reader: how do you like it. He got you to "say" donkey turds.

So, what do you say: truce?

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, Rilke.

I did have coffee with him. Boy was he nervous. I was all prepared to dump him, but, you know, politeness. So I mentioned my thesis topic.

Boy did he come alive. He was the first one not associated with my graduate school who knew, really knew Rilke.

"Those twenty odd day - the first series of sonnets, the completion of the Duino elegies, the second series of sonnets: the most miraculous accomplishment by anyone bar none on this planet for centuries. If a physicist had experienced that, he'd be the most famous person on earth."

How could I not fall in love with a guy who says that about my thesis topic. Whispering such sweet nothings like that in my ear.

And it still took him several months to get me in bed with him, or rather it took me several months to get him to realize that if he would just get the temerity to ask me I was dying to get him into bed.

It of course did not go well the first time. Or the second. But over time he got used to me and opened up to me and I just wore him down.

He really is a sweetheart.

With, to me, a tragic story. Which he handles with those misogynistic fantasies of his.

No, I'm not going to tell you about his tragic past; that's up to him. Up to him to figure out a way on Literotica to tell of such things. But here's the little poem he wrote about His Tragic Event:

The trail led all through my little world,

A lengthy cord pulled tight,

Pulling together all the pieces of my little world,

There could be nothing left outside.

"Nothing left outside." That includes you, all of you, dear readers. When he grew up his little world expanded to include all of you. "Nothing left outside."

We dated for quite a while. We loved each other. He's a loveable guy, and he can quite easily find immense riches in almost anyone ready to be loved by him.

And I by no means am just anyone.

But, I couldn't be with him in those misogynistic fantasies. His bookstore slave girl could be, but, as his stories say several times, that's his version of me, not the actual me, not the actual bookstore lady. (And by the way, with his help but mostly on my own, I wrote a truly original thesis on Rilke, got a tenure track job, and am now a full professor at a major university.)

And so is he. Two similar career paths, but two quite separate careers. Two separate lives.

So who is that character in those new stories? Well, all I can tell you is: I just filled you in on what actually happened at the end of Chapter four. And, to the extent that Chapter five and the epilogue to Chapter six correspond to real events, they occur much later than the end of Chapter four.

Ok, I hope I'm done now. If I (or rather he) had a word counter we'd know for sure. But instead I (or rather he) is going to just submit this and see if it's long enough to be accepted.

If not, we'll just have to pad it. A couple of Rilke sonnets should be enough.

Hey wait a minute (shoot, now he's controlling me; well, I guess that's ok - yeah, go ahead) why not just insert those two sonnets now. You know, my (I mean his) name.

So, without more delay, here they are:

Sonnet 11

Look at the sky. Are no two stars called "Rider"?

For this is printed strangely on us here:

this pride of earth. And look, the second figure

who drives and halts it: whom it has to bear.

Aren't we, in our sinewy quintessence,

controlled like this, now raced and now reined in?

Path and turningpoint. Just a touch possesses.

New expanses. And the two are one.

Or are they really? Don't both signify

the path they ride together now? But table

and pasture keep them separate utterly.

Even the starry union is a fraud.

Yet gladly let us trust the valid symbol

for a moment. It is all we need.

Horse and Rider. Pasture and Table. If we want to reduce this to a Literotica genre, perhaps ponygirl would serve as well as any other. "Just a touch possesses"; the ponygirl under the control of the rider: the two are one. But the two are one only when the pony adhere's to the rigid relation of being the rider's pony. But just as the rider is himself freely in his world (the table) so too is the pony in its world (the pasture). The starry union is a fraud.

But what about the valid symbol? And so we have:

Sonnet 20

But Master, what gift shall I dedicate to you.

who taught all creatures their ears?

- My thoughts of an evening long ago,

it was springtime, in Russia - a horse...

He came bounding from the village, alone, white,

with a hobble attached to one leg,

to stay alone in the fields all night;

how the mane beat against his neck

to the rhythm of his perfect joy, in that hindered

gallop across the meadow.

What leaping went on in his stallion-blood!

He felt the expanses, and oh!

He sang and heard - your cycle of myths

was completed in him.

A horse, alone, with a hobble attached to one leg, galloping across the meadow. The pony is riderless; the valid symbol allows it to still be horseandrider, but now it is its own rider, free to feel the expanses.

Ok, let's see if this has enough words. Wish us luck dear reader. Now to hit the submit button.