Isabel 5

Isabel was a virgin, but To her it had none of its common tone of holiness or beauty. To her it was only a badge of loneliness and contempt. She was 42 years old, just like the huge birthmark on her cheek. It was like a cloud, always fleetingly reminiscent of something, sometimes it would resemble a whale with a cowboy on it, sometimes a battleship, sometimes a bunny, but always, to Isabel, it signified nothing but her own ugliness, and a high wall that separated her from an imaginary world of sensual delights that she would never know. In that world, strong men wielding powerful penises, took beautiful women far away from earthly toil and into a magical realm of ecstasy and contentment.

She had only seen a real penis once, when the football team streaked a homecoming rally; and then they were so far away as to not really be real. But one day her car broke down, and she went into a little bar to phone the auto club. The tiny dark and fragrant room was filled with loud music and packed with men dressed in leather. Isabel was finally able to discover from the bartender where the payphone was located. Following his directions, she stopped abruptly as she came upon a wall covered with hundreds of photos, cut from magazines, of naked muscle-bound men with enormous erections. Paralyzed, she stood before the wall as if it was some ancient shrine that she had just uncovered after years of searching in the desert. Isabel began to reach out her hand to touch the wall, but as the adrenaline began to make her body quake, she suddenly realized where she was, and bolted from the bar trying to put the inspiring grotesque sight behind her, but she would not escape those images. Shaken, she took a cab home.

Her life was transformed. She became unable to perform even the most basic routines of her former life adequately. The penises tormented her. Each time her mind would wander from the task at hand, they would appear, pulsing and throbbing, grown even more swollen after simmering in her dreams. She would stare at the crotches of the men she would pass on the street as she kept her eyes lowered or would visit the Zoo to stand, trembling, face blazing, gaping at some beasts erect red member. Sometimes she would awake, panting in the middle of the night, filled with pulsing images of huge swollen purple penises. Manic ecstasy mixed with guilt and revulsion would keep the titillating spell alive, keeping her from falling back to sleep. She would thrash and toss for minutes that felt like hours, until finally, tentatively, she would grudgingly allow her hand to migrate to the warm pool of her vulva: swollen hot labia and tall erect clit. As she tenderly caressed her own tiny phallus, she imagined she was worshiping the throbbing penis of her mind's eye. Finally as the fear and guilt would become submerged and invisible in the flooding tide of her arousal, the penis would become a profound monolith, a God more powerful and loving than the one she had always known, and whom she secretly hated for having cursed her. With this, she would contract suddenly and tighten her body to muffle her stifled moan for fear her roommate might hear her. As her vulva became flaccid and her body cooled, her mind would dull as, even in returning fear and loathing, she would fall, glowing, back into little girl dreams of ponies and puppies.

Finally, while having lunch with an old girlfriend from school, and loosened by the white wine they shared, she painfully confided her disturbing obsession. Her friend's laughter made Isabel's ears burn, and she felt tiny and ashamed until her friend gently bent over to kiss her flushed cheek and hold her hand. Isabel was relieved to have finally confessed, and to have been so well accepted for it. Her friend assured Isabel that she would, someday, actually meet a penis of her own. She pointed out that men were easy, that it was the penis and not the man who really held the power, and that to penises, "all cats were grey in the night". As they parted Isabel's friend assured her that she should have no trouble consummating her desire, and kissed her maternally good-bye. Walking home, Isabel felt giddy. She felt bold and confident, and tried gazing into the eyes of the men she passed.

That night she visited a bar. She had once been tormented, as she waited at the traffic light in front of it, by the sight of a couple leaving the crowded and noisy storefront. They were kissing and groping as they rushed into a nearby alley, and as they turned the corner she stared after them, the last image of the man's hand, pulling up the woman's short skirt, and sliding into her black lace underwear, burned like the after-image of the sun onto Isabel's eyes. This night, the bar was loud and packed with people, mostly men. Booming disco music propelled a huge mass of humanity around the packed dance floor. Just inside the door, attempting to reach the bar Isabel politely said "Excuse me", and a woman turned and looked at her harshly, preparing to size her up as competition. Seeing the large birthmark, the woman smiled, and then scowled contemptuously, finally turning away, ignoring her. Isabel, heart sunk, read the saga of her desirelessness in the other woman's eyes, and turned, covering her birthmark with her hand, and slid quietly out of the bar. All the way home she cryed. When she got home she went straight to bed and attempted to conjure up her thrilling dreams of the god-phallus, but the image of the woman's judgmental eyes crowded it away, and she fell asleep with tears in her own eyes.

Isabel was not relieved to have been freed of her previous obsession. Now she imagined those cruel eyes on every stranger that she feared to look at. She became more and more sullen and depressed. Until one day, her girlfriend called and said she had a guy she wanted Isabel to meet. He was "hot to trot" she assured Isabel. The hard eyes made Isabel hesitate, but her friend assured her, coached her and finally, she consented.

On the day of the arranged date Isabel was excited and agitated. She spent the entire day dressing and redressing, trying on makeup to cover her spot, then finally resigning herself to her homeliness. He came for her eagerly 15 min. early, he was fat and hairy. He was manic and loud, and Isabel was disgusted. She tried to divorce herself from the sight of him and imagine his penis, but she could not. Finally when they returned home he was drunk. As he attempted to kiss her, his foul breath combined with her long nervousness, and she vomited all over him. She tried to apologize and help him clean up, but now he was also disgusted, and left quickly in a huff.

Finally, Isabel no longer dreamed of phalluses, she no longer cared about the harsh and judgmental eyes, she knew it had all been wasted, her clock was running down, and she had become resigned. She was proceeding with her life as before, a sad but competent creature going thru the motions as best she could. But then one day, driving carefully home from work, a small orange kitten shot out from between two parked cars, and was crushed by one of her tires. Horrified, she stopped and ran back to see if she could help the poor creature, but it was totally hopeless. Tears welling up in her, she picked up the limp but still warm tiny body and carried it gently to the side of the road. Sitting down, holding it in her arms, she cried not only for the kittens lost life, but also for her own lost joy. Suddenly a hand touched her shoulder and she turned, startled to find a disheveled gray-haired man standing over her. He saw the deep pain in her eyes, and she read the profound sympathy in his, as he suggested they bury his pet. She didn't feel the need to apologize or explain, as they silently began to dig a hole in his garden and plant a small bunch of flowers over the dead kitten. When they were done he suggested she come in and wash her hands. Without an answer, he led her, his arm tenderly around her shoulder into his small messy house. His warmth had melted the cold dark place she had sunken into, and as they washed their hands together in the kitchen sink Isabel was amazed as she began to feel aroused as their wet skin would meet under the warm water, and she felt herself blush. She was ashamed to have these feelings with this gentle man, especially after such a tragic event. She turned, almost to apologize, but when their eyes met, she saw that he too had become aroused. They blushed deeply and quickly turned away, both reaching to turn off the water. Their hands met again on the faucet, and they turned again to face each other as they touched. She quickly tore off a paper towel, apologized mechanically for hitting his kitten and began to rush away, when he called to her, "Please, have dinner with me." She looked to him briefly, intending to answer, and saw the sincerity in his eyes, but then turned away, disappeared into her car, and drove away without looking back.

Isabel was in a turmoil, overlapping arguments by all her selves swarmed in her head, and yet in some way that she could not explain, she found herself, a few hours later, standing on his doorstep, unable to muster the courage to knock on his door. As she was about to turn and flee, the door swung open, and the man, now neatly groomed, stood shyly in the doorway. Without speaking, she stepped inside with a slight smile and closed the door behind her. He had cleaned his house and had laid out two mismatched place settings on the flimsy chrome and laminate table. "I hoped you would return." he said. "Well..," she replied, but could not continue. They began to prepare their spaghetti-with-store-bought-ragu dinner together, and eventually found themselves in animated conversation about their mutual love of cats. Surprised, they again looked into each others eyes and noticed again the signs of longing. Their conversation stopped abruptly and they stood blushing in silence. Finally, as they awkwardly sat down to eat, she bravely spoke the truth, and said, "Please, make love to me." She was amazed with herself, and felt embarrassed to have said it. He instantly leaned over and kissed her carefully. In the moment that followed, something of the world outside fell away as they looked at each other and they were suddenly unafraid and began to laugh. Returning to their dinner. they ate lightly and quickly, each panting and tingling with anticipation, smiling childishly whenever their eyes would meet.

When they were done, Isabel excused herself and rushed into the bathroom where she carefully washed her vulva. Then, she snuck into his bedroom, out of her clothes and into his bed. She called out to him, and when he came in and saw her there, he shyly climbed into the bed and cuddled up gratefully next to her. As she shifted she felt his erection press against her leg. Carefully she reached down and gently, with one finger, touched his turgid penis through his pants and felt it twitch. He chuckled shyly and buried his head in her chest. Isabel could barely speak she was so out of breath with excitement, and seeing that he felt the same, she began to remove his pants. "Do you mind?" she gasped. He shook his head and giggled girlishly as all the fear, all the shyness became somehow suspended in this bizarre and alien situation. Isabel felt apart from the world, and despite her total inexperience took complete command.

With an almost idiotic grin, that had seemed to infect him as well, Isabel quickly pulled away his pants and underwear and gasped as the seldom used organ leapt free. She looked up at him like a kid walking through the gates of Disneyland for the first time. He had never been treated with such reverence, and his pounding heart swelled as it shrugged off a lifetime of rejection and derision. Isabel moved close to examine his penis carefully and softly stroked the side of it. At once he moaned and tensed, and a fountain of semen spurted all over her. She recoiled at this unexpected turn, but when she looked up at him and saw the twisted expression of ecstasy on his face, she became even more fascinated. She sniffed and tasted the fluid as she laughed to herself. He took a tissue and wiped her face and himself and red-faced, apologized. But Isabel was delighted, it was even more than she had imagined, and she was in heaven. As his penis became flaccid she studied it's changing form squeezing and turning it between her fingers, staring at it intently. As he began to become erect again, she squealed with delight feeling it grow to her touch. Each moment of attention so happily and generously bestowed on him was a miracle for him, and he stared admiringly at her as she reveled in exploring his penis.

Touching it cautiously, expecting another eruption, Isabel discovered that it had become much less sensitive, and began to rub her cheek against it as she would a kitten. Each surge and jump that his penis made enchanted her, and as he lay back and closed his eyes she began to experiment, watching his face closely for signs of pleasure. Isabel saw his next climax approach and would stall at each twitch as he would moan deeply and tighten his body. She coaxed it slowly forward, fascinated by the ever building agitation in him. When she finally saw his body surrender to it, she felt herself begin to quake in her own orgasm, and watching his body and penis explode in rapture, Isabel fell forward onto him as they convulsed together. Shortly, they embraced, and stared into each others eyes. His were wide with amazement at the experience, hers were filled with love. They laughed, sighed, and finally fell asleep. They awoke still clinging to each other, permanently bound and utterly transformed.