7/18/94 Glam Slam

By the meal's end we are all tipsy as we drive without direction in hopes of finding the Glam Slam, and dance club owned by the rock star Prince. When we find the club there is a long line of young MTV types waiting to enter. Inside I immediately ditch the others and head towards the edge of the dance floor. The place is packed with scantily clad women and athletic young men in muscle shirts. I pass an area with couches in a dark corner where couples lie together. It fills me with an urge for the decadence of opium dens and petting orgies. As I walk a small blonde woman punches me in the stomach for no reason and moves on before I can see her face. The place is thick with sexuality. The sound system blares an incessant dance beat and video screens project sensual abstract images. The room is so full of sweating bodies that I cannot take a step in any direction without bumping into someone. I stand by the edge of the dance floor peering hungrily at the writhing mob. A woman in front of me bends over pushing her buttocks against my crotch and grinds her hips from side to side. After a minute of this I wait to see if she speaks to me. Her friends smile at me naughtily, but she moves away from me without any hint of recognition. From an unseen source a burst of strawberry flavored fog covers the dance floor. Nearby four short, plump, black kids are doing a bouncing dance on hands and knees. They hump each other rhythmically and switch positions on the fourth measures. The women get behind the men and spank their fat bottoms in double time. I am part of a crowd that circles them as they carry out their blatantly suggestive display.

Another burst of fog obscures my vision and a new groove blasts from the sound system. I turn and lose myself in the throng at the head of the dance floor. The music is familiar to the crowd and they chant the refrain in unison. I dance among them with aloof, understated movements. I close my eyes and am aware only of my connection with the music. My skin is vibrating in the heat. Even in my internal darkness I am pulled towards the anonymous smorgasbord of flesh. I place my left hand on my stomach as I move. The warmth of my own touch brings moisture from my sweating pores. The bass drum is a primal summons to procreation. The beam of my consciousness explores my own flesh from within. Each limbs glows with sensitivity. Under its focus the warm light touches my lips and moves down my neck, chest and abdomen. My sex is not erect but lies heavily against my jeans. It throbs off-time against the music. I open my eyes to see two small black women and a beautiful Asian woman have taken the space in front of me. They seem to be preparing for an exhibition of some kind. All three wear extra short cut-off jeans. The two black women take a stance facing each other. In sync they break into dance with spastic motions, at times rolling their hips and caressing their own breasts and bellies. Their faces hold a cold hard expression. The taller of the two wears a loose white vest that reveals the curves of her medium sized breasts. She gets on her knees and leans her forehead against the abdomen of the other, who grinds slowly, heaving the kneeling women's head back and forth. The smaller woman has a darker, near black skin tone and wears white fishnet tights. She has begun sinking to the floor with her legs spread wide. Her hips thrust in frenetic jabs at a pace that seems in-humanly possible, while she arches her back in and out focusing attention on her jutting breasts. The motion of her hips hits me with a debilitating burst of testosterone. It is the most erotic display of dancing I have ever witnessed. The women pull a thin black man from the crowd and rub their bodies against him lasciviously. I want to be him. I am consumed with lust as I move backwards against the four-foot high stage upon which the sound system sets. I arch my back over the stage and lay my head flat against the huge speaker cabinets. I am immediately deafened. The electronic drums and bass swallow my mind with rhythms that hearken the jungle. I can actually feel the low frequencies of the bass drum vibrating through my chest. Before my eyes a thousand bodies move in pointless motion. Motion for pleasure itself.

I want contact. No names, no talk, no responsibility. Pure anonymous flesh. On the dance floor the shorter woman places her finger into the dark lips of the other. She sucks her finger while staring straight into her eyes. She moves to her, releasing her finger as she bring her lips close as they lock into a gentle kiss. Above the firm blows of the bass drum a dirty guitar screams frantically. I want to lose myself in pure fuck. Fuck which emanates from every living cell in the natural world. Fuck which echoes back through the annals of history, reaching back to the original thought in the mind of the Godhead.
In West Africa of times past, the tribal village would meet each spring for orgies in the ploughed fields to ensure fertility for the coming year's harvest. In ancient India a dark princess sucked the gigantic cock of a donkey until its brute jizm covered her naked body to bring about the prolific reign of the maharaja. In the Baltic states the rites of spring were celebrated by viciously slaughtering a virgin to keep the cycles of nature in motion. When Eskimo societies were gripped by tensions each man switched wives with his neighbor to confuse the evil spirits. From the homosexuality of Greek gymnasiums to Roman orgies, French postcards and English whores, even the American Indian women were described as 'generous to manhood'. It is rumored that Chairman Mao packed his swimming pool with naked teenage girls and rolled his fat body over the mattress of wet young flesh. This libidinous horde on the dance floor was willed into existence by the creator when the first spark shimmered in the primordial ooze, when the first cell split, when the first fish spawned. The whole of evolution led to this spectacle. As surely as nature bursts into green with the fertilizing rains of spring, this moment in time had to be.

My mind lecherously surveys the luscious crowd . I want them all stripped bare, skin and hair gleaming in the colored lights, bodies piled on each other, fucking, sucking, licking anonymous limbs, penetrating faceless cunts, assholes, mouths and armpits. The monstrous mound of flesh lubricated with a coat of glistening cum. The Asian woman who accompanied the two black girls dances a few feet in front of me. Her unseeing eyes peer past me as if in a daze. I am hypnotized by the bottomless black pools. In them I seek every sexual encounter of my life. Every fuck, every blow-job, every jerking hand. The lost encounters of my teen years. The hundreds of forgotten orgasms in Leona's all too familiar snatch. The sideways position she preferred for orgasm, her face pulled taut in one single wave of ecstasy. Jai's shrieks that would send the neighbor's dog howling for hours. Inserting the tiny vibrator into her anus as I plunged her tight vagina. Christine's conically shaped breasts and clinging behind. The nameless encounters in parked cars on city streets, in hidden corners in hometown parks, in front of friends in cheap hotels. And most of all Sasha's ever-moist abundance. Her endless, earth shattering convulsions; in my lap on the freeway as tractor trailers pass, on golf courses, in hot tubs, beds, hotels, and her parent's house.

The testosterone surge fills me with a desire to rule the world. To be crowned the ever-reigning god of fuck. To have pussy served on pristine trays to my bedside. Beautiful sleek bodies lining my chambers. Like the mad monk of Russia I want my cock cut off by a jealous wench and hurled across the room magnificently. Like Napoleon I want it auctioned at Southerby’s a hundred years hence when it is a dried shriveled sea horse. There can be no equality of the sexes because I see women only with desire. Every beautiful face I seek to possess. Every short skirt urges me to rape. My friendship is a deceit and this is your only warning; Ornelia I want to return your affliction by tearing your pussy into bloody shreds, pulling out your red locks from behind as I pound your white bottom dog style. Robin, object of desire for so long, why did I turn you down when I want to take my place among the multitudes that have released themselves in your ravaged hole. Sonja your thin black frame beguiles me. I still recall the taste of your bulging lips, the odor of your sweating body as I lie beside you in New Orleans. Mina I'll tear down your wall and wash away the sexual curse you complain of. Your small body will be putty in my grip. I will lift you into the air and pummel you while suspended in my embrace. Seanna and Jean - I long for those sensual moments on the dance floor. The stolen kisses as the music blared. Let me fuck you in unison, on jungle gyms, on swinging trapezes. The nameless bodies I touched while singing. Who are you? I want to make your bellies swell with my seed. My sweet friend Janis, drop the kid sister-act long enough so I may fill your mouth with cum. Angie those drunken kisses in my car after the Stoney's gig are haunting me now. Krista, Pocihontes, Wendy, how I loved those touches in the Beirhaus. The girl in the teddy on the floor of Cafe 210. "Thanks for the fuck", she said. I have forgotten your face but I remember your breasts as I lay atop you. Brenda, after a year of seduction why did I turn away when you finally offered yourself? I want you all before me naked, mute and craving my explosions. Lapping at my loins. I feel incapable of love. Except for the love of hedonistic decadence. I am alive and I want it all.