sixth cycling trip

They are ringing the midnight bells when I can’t stand it any more. I open the window and run away to Zoli. I go through the gardens so nobody sees me, but I have no luck: the lamp is on, at Zoli’s place I see his husband’s shadow gliding several times. Yet I get lucky. When I peep through the fence, Zoli is grooming a big black steed, the sweat foams on the horse, Zoli reaches to the horse’s foaming mouth, then puts his hand to his own mouth. I can hardly control my fingers. But then I wake up. It was just a dream again. They said that the other day too. And again, I wake up. And I see Zoli grooming a big black steed. I feel a salty taste in my mouth. I miss my bike. I certainly remember that.

fifth cycling trip

For a moment, when I stepped out of the church, I didn’t know which way to take further. I was sure that I wouldn’t get home on time, that my husband would beat me up again, that he would stuff me with pills again, that he would lock me in the basement again, and again I would have to listen to him shouting for days. But after my secret confession I felt so clean that there was no way I could stand my husband's company. I heard the women whispering behind my back, but I didn’t care, I hadn’t cared for a long time what they said about me, I stuck my tongue out at most, and then sprang on my bike and I flew happily to my love. But my bike was gone again, so I didn’t rush anywhere, thus I decided to go back to church and pray until my God helps me. I don’t know how many prayers I could have said, but I'm sure that a lot, because I even dozed off from the ongoing murmuring. When I started up, I felt that someone was fumbling behind me, and already he was raising my skirt, and his tool was already starting to enter me, and he was already in me, and it was becoming harder and harder and harder. And suddenly the stars sparkled for me too, although through the glass vitrage I could clearly see that the light was still shining on us.

forth cycling trip

And at the church I had the following thoughts:

I confess to almighty God and to you my brethren, that I have sinned exceedingly by thought, word, deed and omission, because every morning, noon, evening, I prayed badly, and I just prayed every morning, noon and night that I may cycle with Zoli only, I cursed several times a day when I couldn’t see Zoli, or when he wasn’t with me, I swore on lies just that he be with me, all the tools I used so he has only me, I have only him, I deliberately looked for the path to sin, I didn’t go to the Holy Mass, because I was cycling with Zoli then too, I cycled during every Holy Mass. But I’m lying, because I did go to church too, but then, also, only Zoli was on my mind, I couldn’t think of anything else, just Zoli, Zoli the Turk, and our cycling trips; I made jokes of sacred things, I was bad at church, even there I didn’t adore God, but Zoli, I lied to my husband too, I didn’t obey him, I didn’t help him, I answered back to him because he didn’t let me be with Zoli, I escaped, I escaped to him, I tricked everyone, I argued, I mocked, I tempted Zoli to sin too, because I wanted him to be a pig with me, because I wanted him to whisper dirty words in my ear, because I wanted him to touch my cunt, and meanwhile I didn’t take care of anything, not even my health, I just wanted Zoli shamelessly, I looked at him shamelessly, I spoke about Zoli shamelessly, I played with Zoli shamelessly; and I stole for him, I cheated for him, I caused harm for him, I stole from others for him, my duty was only Zoli, Zoli the Turk, I didn’t pay attention to anything else, I lied and lied and lied, and I fornicated and fornicated and fornicated, I fornicated often, and I was always selfish, because I constantly wanted Zoli only for myself, only for myself, always, constantly, all the time, from morning to morning, from evening to evening, and I was greedy, I was envious, and I wanted only Zoli. But yet I am heartily sorry for all my sins, and I firmly resolve to strive only for good.

And the good is Zoli the Turk.

third cycling trip

No matter what I had promised, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to write to Zoli:

"You were on time. As always. I was late. Even though I tried hard. You popped up out of the darkness. And I had to conceal the cigarette smoke somehow. You don’t like cigarette smoke. But I looked in vain for anything in my bag, I found only a candy bar, because there's always something with me in case of emergency. I was sucking at it even when you lead me by the hand into the building. You were just looking. Looking at it. Secretly you wished that it would be your dick in my mouth. You kissed me. It was so delicious as you sucked in my tongue. Our kissing is perfect. Always, every time. It’s by the book. Passionate, sensual. As if this was the mission of our tongues on Earth, to keep playing with each other. You felt the sweet taste of the candy on my tongue, while you were caressing my breasts. First the left one, then the right, then both. You also discussed with my bra to get out of the way, the naked flesh was already in your hands. You know all about it. You tuned in to what is good for me from the very first moment. Someone has already asked me if you were a real man or not. I would never admit that I have never had a better one. You stuck your hand between my legs. I love it when you stick your hand between my legs. But I also love it when it makes circles on my left tit, or when I can suck at your fingers, or when you hold my hair up, or when you stroke my ear, or whatever. Our tongues too were stroking each other. Continuously, without stopping. In the meantime, I stripped you. You were rock hard, but I had already felt that with my legs. When I first touch it, it’s always so different. It's an all-up feeling. It’s good to hold it in my hand, to feel it, to caress it. I love you - you said, to talk about something. But there wasn’t any time, neither for speaking nor for my climax. You knew that as well. As much as you wanted me, and however much you wished to slip into me. Gently you pushed away my hand. Once. Twice. Three times. But I'm not selfish. You have never been either. I lifted up my skirt so that it wouldn’t get dusty, dirty, because it would no longer fit my next appearance. I knelt down before you. My mouth encircled you. And my tongue was making a joyride around your dick. Meanwhile, my left hand was holding your leg, and the right one was moving around your dick. Slowly at first. Then you started to accelerate. You moved in and out. You were tense, on the verge of exploding. With your arm you commanded my head stronger and stronger. I felt that you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore... With full force you penetrated me again... Then you tensed and exploded into me... In the meantime, I like it best when you quiver. You literally quiver, it’s so good. My hand, my everything was quivering with you. And you are my everything. You didn’t feel the candy taste in my mouth any more. Instead, a salty, a familiar salty taste came. Which is still present. And you told me that you had seen stars, not because the building had no roof though, but because you were steaming, it was so good. And when I entered the church door, and when I sat down, and when the mass began, and when it came to the part to examine our consciences and repent our sins so we can worthily celebrate the sacred mysteries of the Lord, all I could whisper in front of me was: I fornicated. It was so good! "

second cycling trip

When I woke up, there was a small pebble in my mouth, and it tasted so good that I sucked at it at once.

In the morning I found a gray pebble in my mouth. It tasted so good that I sucked at it at once.

first cycling trip

My husband found my notebook, and was very angry when he read it. He tore the pages out of it, and returned it to me empty. Some phrases I will never forget, I thought, but by the time I wrote them down, I couldn’t remember any of them. I saw Zoltán today, and it was so good, so very good. And I didn’t even have to ride my bike to him: he came to me anyway.

I dunnowhich cycling trip

My husband locked me up in the room because he heard from someone that people are saying I’m seeing someone. Later the Doctor came, he examined me, and then told me off because I’m not taking my pills regularly. He said I shouldn’t believe in something that doesn’t exist. I didn’t see from Zoli the whole day, but I’m sure that he was thinking of me, because I belong to him.

twenty-fifth cycling trip

Zoli smelled like a tomcat today. I got a whiff of its sour smell as soon as he arrived, he apologized, but there was nothing to do about it. We only had a few minutes, then both of us had to run off. So little, but still so much. Sometimes however, so much, but still so little. Zoli came, threw me to the floor, jumped up, threw me to the floor, and then there was no trace of him. Luckily, he allowed me to walk him to his bicycle. And he was holding my hand. And everyone could see me. Then he leapt on his bike, and I could only moan after him: thank you.

twenty-third cycling trip

I haven’t even boasted that my bike was found. A message was sent from the station, allegedly it had been parked there for a few days already. I’m sure someone had to do something urgently and didn’t want to miss the train. When I went to pick it up, I recalled a memory from my childhood. Zoli was coming towards me, he was a teenager, he was coming from school with a bouquet, but he drove right by me, without having seen me. When I started to shout after him, he turned around and he smiled like a Cheshire cat.

twenty-forth cycling

My husband came home so drunk that he didn’t even come into the house, he fell asleep in the armchair on the terrace. I spread a blanket over him, so he wouldn’t freeze, then I went in the house, and longed for Zoli. A cold wind was blowing, so I planned not to stick my feet out all day. But I couldn’t stand it: I sprung onto my bike, and under cover of darkness I went to see if my love had returned home. But there was no one at home. I was tempted by the idea to watch for him when he arrives, and pop in front of him when he opens the gate, but in the end I didn’t dare to stay any longer. It was already snowing big time when I set off back home. I thought that it would again have to be me to shovel the snow, and after that there would be no one to warm me up with his body.

tenth cycling trip

Don't hurry, Zoli, I said to Zoli today, the Turk is not chasing you.

twenty-second cycling trip

No one has answered the ad yet. My husband didn’t come home today, although I cooked a delicious dinner for him. So I had my time during the day, I walked all through the house, in the old bedroom I came across my grandmother’s dusty exercise bike, I thought I’d sit on it, but then I decided not to. All night I dreamt of Zoli lying under me, I kept waking up to embrace him, but Zoli remained only a dream. During the day I went down to the beach, to get some fresh air. I looked at the sea for a long time, then on my way home I picked oranges in the grove. When I met Zoli, I gave him one too. The moon was shining, my heart ached.

twenty-first cycling trip

I've decided to put up an ad, hoping someone can help me. Please, if I've seen my bike, call me!

twenty-first cycling trip

In the morning I could not find my bike anywhere. Though I remembered well that I had put it exactly where Zoli usually leaves his. When I woke up, I even saw it for a moment in front of me. But it was nowhere in sight. So my day didn’t work out as I had originally planned, because I didn’t do anything else but look for my bike. I walked several times down the road on which I cycled with it last time, but it had vanished into thin air. Though I needed it a lot. I knew it wasn’t stolen, because I don’t know anyone who could have dared such a thing. No-one inherited light-fingers here, it doesn’t run in families in this neighborhood. For a moment I stopped beside the road to set my skirt right. I don’t know why, but I had the feeling that the whole world was staring at me. In the morning Zoli visited me, I asked him if he thought there was something funny in our sadness, but he didn’t answer.

twentieth cycling trip

Zoltán has just gone, I can still hear him closing the door behind him, but my soul already aches. He promised to go biking today too, but because it was raining he slipped into the bed next to me instead. I didn’t mind at all. First he was kissing my left breast, then the right, so it wouldn’t take offense by any chance. Zoli, I tell him, don’t be a pig, but in the meantime I don’t wish anything else, just that he be a pig with me. Then I whisper words in his ear, words which only he would say to me. I’m thirsty for you, I say. And I hunger too. If I were a carnivorous plant, it would be much easier, I would swallow you in a second. Greedily and selfishly. And there would no longer be any other ways for you. You would move into me. I would shut you in my eyes. And you would be only mine. Just mine. Do you hear me? I'm screaming for you. JUST MINE. Your flesh. Your blood. Your soul. Your magic. Your smile. And with your heart I would live. And again, there would be order in the world. Zoli only nods, then he leaves quickly.

nineteenth cycling trip

Zoli is chewing my ears. He thinks they taste good, he likes them. Why ears? And why mine? And what does he like in them? I don’t understand. And sometimes I can’t even believe it. That it’s my ears he’s nibbling at. He says life is nice in pairs, and there are exactly two of my ears. He also says that he put his finger in my ear. But he also says that nothing is hopeless, and that one should try it, just because. Just in case there is still potential in us, he says. He also tells me not to be sad, for he likes it when I'm cheerful. I am cheerful, but when he takes leave of me, my heart sinks and my ears hang low.

I am I, you are you

Yesterday I got a bike from Zoli. For Christmas. We were in company when he gave it, so I had to hide my feelings. But I couldn’t do it very well. He enclosed a letter to the gift:

"Draw a man. I see you draw well. You drew 2 feet for him. 2 hands. 2 eyes. 2 ears. You drew two of everything. Not one. It's perfect like this. In pairs. A foot can also only tread forward in pairs. If you drew a bird, it would have two wings. Only like that can it fly high in the sky, sweep higher and higher. And think of scissors. Without you I'm like one half of scissors. Or perhaps even more desperate. Like a bike that doesn’t work. Unusable. You can’t chop nor gallop with it. That’s why you need a pair of feet, hands, eyes, ears so ... (and you continue...)

[12:45:17 AM] ... I can cycle with you a lot."

[12:45:44 AM] ... I can always cycle with you.”

seventeenth cycling trip

I like it best when I dream that Zoli is coming home. He props his bicycle against the wall and doesn’t ride it any more that day. I putter around to make things tidy and to make Zoli happy with me. He slips behind my back, I pretend not to notice him, and suddenly he licks in my ear. The meal cooks on the stove, I cook, but I’m always afraid that the soup boils over. Please let me go, I tell Zoli, but he doesn’t, not for anything in the world. I don’t mind. I’ll make soup in my other dream, I dream. Zoli caresses me, and he promises that he will never argue with me. He cuddles me and kisses my nose.

But when I wake up, that’s the worst. Because I can’t see Zoli’s bicycle anywhere.

sixteenth cycling trip

I wrote to Zoli too! The mail even took it!

"When I got home, I realized that I don’t really have a home. What it has made it as such, passed now. Now the house is cold. Frigid. Relationless. Loveless. My home is elsewhere now. Always elsewhere. It’s there, where you are. In Brazil, by the seaside, in the street, in the room, in the snow, beside the road. In heaven. In hell. Anywhere. Everywhere. Just be with me."

When I stuck the envelope down, the address was washed away by a few tears, so once again I inked in the name: Turk.

fifteenth cycling trip

He wrote. He does love me after all. The mail has just arrived.

"In my life I haven’t said the words ‘I love you’ many times. Especially not ‘I adore you’. But you are an exception. For some reason an exception. Someone for whom, because of whom, I have violated all the rules. All my principles. It’s a fact that I haven’t always behaved in a predictablenormal way, but some things have changed since then, and I have become more-intelligent-more-grown-up-more sane-smarter-wiser than I was. I know now what I want. I know who I want. You. So that you can be the one for my bed. So that you can be the one on whose shoulder I sleep. So that I can always put my legs on your legs. So that I can stick my tongue in your ear, in your mouth. So that I can feel you. So that I can smell you. So that you can attack me. So that I can attack you. So that we can pain each other. So that I can be your thistle, your bird, your everything. So that you can be my thistle, my bird, my everything. So that myour test pilot, before-after-during peeing ... (And you drove me crazy. You drove me insane. I don’t even know whether I am a girl or a boy!) Be my cycling partner. Forever. Amen. "

I think I’ll pass out now.