The Erotic Études Opus VI

Étude X - Dr. Carus (II)



Étude X - Dr. Carus (II)


I woke immediately to the sound of a slipper scraping on the threshold; and my heart began immediately to race in my chest, for it meant that my secret lover was returning once again to my bed.

I felt his hand upon my shoulder and turned toward him as he took me in his arms. "My dear boy" he whispered gently, and enveloped me in kisses so soft, so tender, that I found myself believing that I was being caressed by a woman. Such was my fantasy, but it was no woman, it was the bespectacled Dr. Carus, who by day tended the madmen in Schloß Colditz -- my one-time physician who had drawn from me my secret desires, first as my psychiatrist, and then as my lover. It was during the spring and summer of 1827, after the loss of both my father and sister.

We never spoke of it by day; and no incidental movement or gesture ever betrayed the intimacy that grew between us in darkness. It was as though two realities prevailed by alternations; one of them in sunlight, and the other, in candlelight and shadow, and the two did not meet except in the deep privacy of my fantasy; not even as our eyes met during the course of meals, or in conversations. No word was spoken to indicate this profound change in our relation. And yet, I was keenly aware of him at all moments, and waited with quivering anticipation for the sound that now came, and the flicker of a candle in the doorframe that announced his stealthy arrival.

Little was said, even then, but the language of desire seemed eloquent enough. This affair, these assignations, marked the earnest beginning of an erotic adventure that had only barely begun in my childhood dalliance with Rosen in Zwickau. Here, it reached an intensity of passion and pleasure for which I did not find words for many years, and which could express itself only in the interplay of voices on the keyboard; and later, more completely, between the piano and orchestra in that first concerto. It seemed then, that he was the orchestra and I the piano, if I were to wax romantic about it. But this grew, over the course of the many weeks of my stay at Colditz, the bittersweet sadness of my grief, interspersed with horror when I beheld the prisoners in the Schloß, and the warm evenings of music with Dr. Carus and his beautiful songstress wife, about whom I fantasized as strongly as I felt when I held her husband in my arms by night and felt his mouth upon my own. It was as though my desire was provoked by the image of the woman and the body of the man, in a curious, complex combination. This, however, I did not question.

This night, I could tell immediately, was different. Dr. Carus came to me that night, as he had several nights previous, and his embrace, as ever, was as tender and careful as it had been the first night, and perhaps, just the slightest bit tentative as he held my finger to his lips in an unspoken question - "Do you want me tonight?" that kiss asked, tentatively, shyly, and I reached with that hand and pulled him down bodily upon me, my arousal already evident as it throbbed against his slight form in the thin dressing gown.

"My - my dear boy," he stuttered slightly, pushing my hair back with his fingers and gazing at me for a long moment... "There is something I wish to try, if you are willing, and if not, I would not ask again..."

I was impatient with his inquiry - I wanted only for him to take me, not to ask, not to discuss, but to do as he willed, but he waited, in his tentative way... until I said, "Yes. Ask." I whispered, barely able to reply, and I squirmed beneath him.

"I wish to - to penetrate you, to sodomize you..." he stopped, as though shocked by the words he had uttered, and I could hear the silence as he held his breath.

"Yes," I whispered again, more quietly.

"I promise it will not hurt in any ---"

"Yes" I whispered, fiercely, almost crying out - I was desperate to stop him, and yet to urge him on, to do what he must do, what I must do. Isn't this what I had wanted, what I had waited for? How many months - years, had I waited for Rosen to whisper that into my ear, to make the suggestion I had dared not make, as we lay fearful in one another's arms in the quiet woods? And here, the moment had arrived, that I had both dreamt and dreaded, and I nearly cried out once again as I felt his mouth upon my aching organ and the gentle movement of his fingers as he explored me with an almost excruciating slowness, like the mesmerizing movement of a bow across the bridge of the cello, causing the lowest string to set in motion, just below the range of hearing and strengthens into a suddenly audible note, the feeling of tangible pleasure that arose from his probing, provoking an involuntary moan of arousal from my throat. He did not stop; he knew that sound, which meant "Yes."

He made love to me with an agonizing slowness. It would seem he had to discover the very depth of me with his fingers before allowing himself entry, and for this, ultimately, I was grateful, for I felt nothing but a fierce and hungry pleasure when at length he seized my legs, and pulled my knees over his shoulders, straightening up to enter me at long last. And he spoke, asking me some question to reassure himself that all was well and that he offered no discomfort, and I could say nothing but hiss in reply, "Yes, yes, yes..." until he filled me with himself with a murmur of joy and relief. Interminably later, I seemed to awaken to the increasing violence of his thrusts, and the building up of a powerful tension within me such as I had never felt before, and had never been released. I felt a moment of fear for the intensity of the desire that accompanied it, the desire that focused entirely upon the need for him to continue, harder, and faster - and I reached my hands out to pull him into me, as though it would draw him more forcefully toward the resolution of that tension which I could no longer stand -- and the unendurable climax broke over me like an ocean wave, and I let out one brief cry before it drowned me. The force of it overtook me with a spasm that very nearly dislodged him in mid-thrust -- and I felt, for once, the fierce pressure of his hands holding me down as he impaled me once again with the power of the desire that drove him. I shuddered uncontrollably, and lay still.

He withdrew, quietly, and from somewhere beyond, I became vaguely aware of his industrious hands, and a soft cloth that soaked up the semen that had spilled between our bodies. And tenderly, following that moment of fierce rapine, his hands returned to caress my face, and bring me back gradually to consciousness, and I grew aware once again of the room, the bed, and the man who lay beside me.

He offered me the gentlest of kisses, and once again, I felt the soft lips of a woman upon my own, and he whispered kindly to me, " Are you well? Did you enjoy that?"

"Yes... yes," I whispered, as I had whispered already a hundred times that night. And then, with a gush of unstoppable tears, I cried, "I love you."

"Yes," he echoed. "As I have always loved you."



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Etude_XI  



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The Erotic Etudes Index

[ I ]   [ II ]   [ III ]   [ IV ]   [ V ]   [ VI ]   [ VII ]   [ VIII ]   [ IX ]
[ X ]   [ XI ]   [ XII ]   [ XIII ]   [ XIV ]   [ XV ]   [ XVI ]   [ XVII ]   [ XVIII ]

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