The Wolf and the Mirror

When he was well out of earshot, I unzipped the door to my tent and walked to where he had stood. He had left his liquid mark on a patch of wild lavender and clover. I reached down to feel with my finger the warm spot he had left. I wore only black wind pants. With my fingers, I spread the wetness on my bare chest. I let its wetness touch each of my nipples, and I felt my insides flooded with warmth. Now he had marked me. My body was his.

His smell overpowered me as I lay back in my tent. His pheromones controlled me. I slid my pajama pants off and spread my legs apart so far that I could feel a cool breeze between my ass cheeks. My hand was still wet from the cool rain and his warm piss. I slowly slid my hand down and circled my hole with my wet middle finger. Normally I had so much time here, to edge myself with distant blurry thoughts. Now, the vision of this thick dick and the wavy fur surrounding it, filled me with want. I had a feverish desperation. I felt so pathetic by how much I wanted to feel his dick grow hard and push itself into me. I spread my legs further and shoved my soaked finger into my asshole. I moaned as I imagined his hands controlling me, outside, and inside. His manly finger stretched my hole as it felt for my prostate. As it struck, I was his. I could think of nothing else. All I wanted at the moment was for him to hold me down. I wanted him to force his dick into me over and over until I begged him to fill me with his cum.

Without even touching my dick, I orgasmed with such power that it shook me from the end of my toenail to the top of my shaved scalp. This time it didn't shoot, but oozed and oozed all down my throbbing dick. When I thought it would stop, I kept gushing until it seemed as if an entire kalpa had passed. My body seized and convulsed rigidly. My other finger released my prostate as my throat grunted involuntarily. My mind slipped back from touching Nirvana. As my eyelids fell shut, I imagined holding his seed inside me. I imagined him holding me so tight I had no hope or will to escape. I slept entrapped by his broad shoulders. I could feel his strong hands calloused from the swing of an axe on the back of my neck.

I carried my cup of coffee with goat's milk up the stairs to the shower room. He still was irradiating steam as he was leaving from a shower. We passed along the narrow stairs. As I went up, he was wearing the same white robe that I had seen clearly underneath the night before. I knew then, it hadn't been a dream. The fantasies I had been playing in my head, flashed in front of me. My hand instinctually opened. In my mind's eye, his hands intertwined with mine, holding me down, as he used my willing asshole to please himself. The entire episode flashed in front of me as my head looked up and my coffee mug fell from my hand. By the time I imagined us climaxing together, the cup smashed on the dark wood of the staircase. I could feel my ego shattering with it.

Some of the women in the bunk house were already back from morning Tai Chi and approached the staircase to see what had happened. He quickly closed the front of his dirty white robe for modesty. The Asian with the short bangs and the blue eyes raced up the stairs to help. Not knowing what to do I reached down to grab some of the larger ceramic pieces. My fingers dipped in the warm puddle of coffee that now stained the exposed wood. My mind flashed back to his pool of urine that I touched. I wanted to rub my chest with the hot coffee. She grabbed my hand to stop me from picking up any more pieces, afraid I might cut myself. She held up a finger as a signal for me to wait. She scuttled down the stairs and returned with her partner, the older woman with the tanned skin and the jagged stripes of grey that fell on hair that extended halfway down her back. As he bent down to help with the larger pieces, my imagination could see through his fabric to his thick cock swinging freely underneath. He had just showered so it was probably hung long and thick from the heat. I could see clearly the shape of his ass as he bent down through the robe. But there, I was the naked one.

In the silence, my whole body screamed. The others could see my passion, my pathetic desire. The cage of my chest was open and exposed, like it had been cleaved with an axe, leaving my organs exposed and vulnerable. I ran up the stairs to the open bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Strange things happened during retreats. You could not explain the oddities of life with words, and one had to become comfortable with uncertainty. Sometimes, it almost feels as if you are losing your mind. Ego doesn't leave without a fight. I figured the two thought I was embarrassed from making a mess, and they would be gentle with their judgment. Still I was glad to be safe and secure behind a locked door. I could hear Dorje Mary's soft voice like a cat's purr say through the door after a light knock, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I managed to say through weak vocal chords. It came out like an awkward adolescent who couldn't quite settle on a pitch. "I am just embarrassed about making a mess."

"We'll take care of it," she purred. "Don't be embarrassed." I turned on the shower so that the white noise could settle the sheer volume of my thoughts. The steam rose quickly bringing with it the smell of cloves and burnt firewood. His beard oil had lingered from his shower. The smell helped soothe my confusion, after it seemed, my mind had shattered on the stairs. Now, it no longer mattered. All defenses I had once, were gone. I touched my half-hard dick and teased its tip with my thumb and forefinger. With every breath of his smell, blood rushed into my shaft until it almost hurt from its throbbing. Suppressing any audible sound, I shot semen on the small mirror that hung on the tile.

Trying to catch my breath, I wiped the drops of cum off with my hand revealing through the milky smear my own desperate gaze. The young man I saw in the mirror had his foot caught in a trap, and he had nothing to do but wait. He waited for the hunter to find him and devour his helpless naked body. If only the predator would come. I wanted him to come so badly my body opened itself in anticipation of his eager kill.

Fear and despair change and dissipate, like everything in life if we let it. Suffering came from grasping too hard, I knew. That night, I had managed to focus on my out-breath enough to have enough composure to rest soundly. I was wrapped tightly in my fleece-lined sleeping bag. I closed my eyes until I woke up to the smell of skunk. The predator had finally, thankfully, arrived.

The pungent aroma of marijuana drifted toward my tent. He sat on an overturned rusted metal garbage can in the shadow of the barn, with only his feet showing in the moonlight. Still his eyes seemed bright emerald. They were bright behind the thickness of his beard. Was he luring me out, or did he even know I was there? I could not wait in the trap any longer, it was time to face my fate. Wearing only my wind pants, I unzipped the tent. The sound of the zipper was purposefully loud enough to make my presence known.

Almost comically, he hid the joint behind his back as I slowly, willingly approached him. He giggled to himself at the absurdity of hiding his sin from me, as billows of pungent-smelling smoke ascended behind him.

"Can I--", he put a finger to his lips before I could get the request out. I admired his adherence to the vow of silence, and the irony of it, as he was smoking weed in front of me. He had his black-rimmed glasses on now, so he could focus on me clearly. They made him look intelligent, with eyes framed and large. Together with the effect of the drug, his eyes were large and beautiful as they hungered at me. I no longer had the feeling that I was covered in a cloak of invisibility. Now I was exposed, and it filled me with a deep satisfaction.

He nodded at me and handed me the still burning joint. I smiled and nodded back with my hands in prayer position as thanks. He laughed at me, because he knew I was pretending as much as himself. But now, we no longer needed to pretend. We were just two bodies sincere in their own lust.

It had been almost a year since I had last smoked. His powerful presence and its ability to expose my vulnerability made the desire for calm, confusing bliss of the drug, irresistible. And even if I hadn't wanted it, I was incapable of saying no. He could control me with even a silent gesture. He laughed again. He was laughing at the futility of my escape.

I emptied my lungs and then breathed in a very deep puff of skunky smoke. I had an involuntary shutter as the drug hit me too quickly. I closed my eyes and my perception of time and space had waves of distortion flowing through it. My exposed chest now opened further. As the drug hit my brain I smiled. My vulnerability no longer frightened me. Now I embraced my vulnerability, as my tender internal organs exposed themselves to him to be devoured. I would sacrifice myself to him. The second he leaned forward and the moonlight hit his eyes, now brightly green and almost inhuman, I started to choke. I coughed hard and loud. Afraid of being caught in our transgressions, he quickly covered my mouth with his hand and swung my body around in one graceful motion, until my back faced him and his strong, hairy arm braced my bare chest. His hand held my mouth firmly shut to muffle the cough.

He wanted me to be quiet. I would be quiet. And just like that, the coughing stopped. The drug had done its work, all the stronger by the speed with which it hit me. I tingled over the stubble on my face where my skin touched his. My hands tingled. My ears tingled. My eyelids tingled. Every sensation was multiplied several times until I could feel the moonlight and each blade of grass, and each strand of hair on his arm as it caressed my right nipple. Was it by accident or did he know exactly what he was doing? His ambiguity of intention hidden behind his piercing gaze made me want him more. He had caught me. I extended my tongue and tasted the salty sweat from his hand.

The wordless communication had an immediate effect as I could feel a twitch behind me, pushing against my young buttocks. He grabbed me tighter. Yes. Take me. Knowing that gagging me made his dick hard, made all of my fantasies come forth like the final deluge from a heavily cracked dam. He released his hand from my mouth. The joint fell harmlessly on to the wet grass, softer and lighter than my coffee cup. His hand made its way from my mouth to my waist. He took his time. His large fingers pushed hard against my body as they fearlessly extended down my hands and felt my willing balls. I naturally spread my legs slightly so that his hand could cup my scrotum in his beastly hands. I wanted to scream. I wanted to moan. I wanted. I wanted whatever he wanted. The voice in his head was the voice in my head.

He forcefully turned me around and pushed his beard against my stubble. We kissed, and I could taste the skunky sweet of the pot on his lips. His beard smelled like cedar and cloves and smoke and sweat. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, and I accepted it as I was meant to serve him. His beard was rugged but soft. I raised a hand to feel its texture. We kissed for enough time for the moonbeams to shift so that we were both exposed in the path behind the barn. Our passionate crime was illuminated and neither of us cared.

He rubbed my ass cheeks in a firm, circular motion as I lead him to my tent. As I entered the half-unzipped door, he pulled my pants off with a single motion, exposing my already rigid dick. When he looked at it, it twitched helplessness. Frantically, I felt around in my personal trunk. I had stolen a mason jar full of coconut butter from the kitchen which I used to pleasure myself. I reached my hand in the glass jar, and the butter melted on touch from the heat of my feverish body. With a generous handful, I rubbed it on my now twitching asshole. I pushed a liberal amount inside me with a moan. Again he cupped my mouth to silence me. Yes, I was bad. Teach me. He motioned for me to get on my hands and knees by patting the ground. I nodded, Yes Sir. I displayed my ass cheeks spread wide. Use me. Rape me. I am your cock-worshipping slut. In silence, I screamed as he slid a finger inside me. I had learned to obey. I was his to use.

The tip of his cock teased my hole. I could feel it glide up and down the cleft of my ass from the lube of coconut butter and precum. My body tingled, my mind swam. All I wanted at that moment was his dick pleasuring itself with my servant of a body. I was meant to be a receptacle for his predatory dick. On his knees he bent over, covering my back and he reached around my chest and held me so tight, I could hardly breathe. With a single motion, he pushed the head of his cock inside my ass. I wanted to scream, but I knew I couldn't. I took his hand and put it over my mouth again, knowing I could not control my own ecstatic moans. A millimeter at a time he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside me. It seemed like the moon had circled the earth by the time I could feel his balls smack firmly against my ass cheeks. His dick was deep inside me, touching me, satisfying me, becoming one with me.

He licked the back of my neck. Despite his insistence on my own silence, I could hear his deep growls as he used me, like the desperate and willing slut that I was. He put his beard very close to my earlobe and bit it gently with his teeth. My teeth clamped so hard from the euphoria, I felt as if I would never be able to speak again. His lips moved even closer to my ear as if to say, you are mine, boy. And I was his prey.

He jerked himself off inside me, each time hitting me precisely in the spot that released a wave of pleasure through my convulsing body. It may have been seconds, minutes, or hours. When I felt him cum inside me, I was no longer there. Whatever I had once been was lost at that moment.

He picked me up with his arms off my hands and knees and set me on my feet with a single motion. I hadn't cum yet. He led me out of the tent by hand to the largest cedar where I had pitched my tent. He pushed my hands against the tree and pushed my ankles apart with his feet. There he fucked me standing as I bent grabbing the trunk. The smell of cedar sap was so strong as he pummeled me again. No Self. I completely surrendered to him. No Non-self. There was no pain. It was so natural for him to be inside me. No Birth. No Death. Who was predator and who was prey no longer mattered. We were one. We were both wolf and human at the same time, one being. Our minds extended across evolution to a time when we only had raw instincts to a time in the future when we were no longer human, but something different and more wonderful.

If there was anything left to call myself, it was the two of us entwined as one being. And together, we merged with the cedar tree that I held. No form. No sensation. No perception. No conception. No consciousness. We were one. With a vicious growl, he turned his head so that his teeth could touch my neck. I could feel his large beard and heavy breath come closer to my vulnerable skin. He bit the side and back of my neck until I threw my head back in reflex and released my hands. I bit the bark with my teeth, becoming a predator myself. The pain of the bite set me over the edge of my plateau. My semen covered the trunk of the cedar in forceful eruptions that continued and continued as his dick relentlessly used my willing body. I convulsed so hard I could no longer hold the trunk. My back fell with force of gravity until I was bent so far over that I could see my ankles. I touched the ground and as my fingers felt the soft, moist dirt, he came.

He came, inside me.

I could feel his dick twitch, and it reverberated inside me like being surrounded by thousands of monks chanting in unison. No Self. No Non-self. No Birth. No Death. He had devoured me, leaving nothing behind, but a pleasure so deep, that it merged with body and the tree and the ground and the tent, and outward to every dream of every guest in the park that night. In their sleep, every being could hear the chanting of my own mind as it dissipated into the thickness of our passion and his musky smell.

Dorje Mary told me once the Buddha had to face his reflection before he reached enlightenment underneath the Bodhi tree. His reflection was Mara, the god of illusion. I didn't know what she meant, and I didn't care. I wasn't there to learn Buddhism. I had listened but didn't process any of the numerous lessons she had told me before I took my vow of silence. It all seemed so narcissistic to meet our own reflection, but I suppose even the narcissist must gain self-awareness after staring at himself for so long. How long could one stare at one's reflection until they lose track of the separation between the reflection and themselves and the background? Inevitably, one could see the truth of their own fate in the reflection of still water.

He asked me my name when we passed in the gravel parking lot the following day. No one was around to see our one last sin, speaking. That question was the only thing he ever said to me, with words at least. I managed to force out an uncomfortable, "Ummm." I either had genuinely forgot my name or wondered for a moment if he was testing his young servant. My vocal chords were weak, and I felt pathetic at the hoarseness of my inadequate answer. I was shushed by the silent placement of his thick finger on my mouth before any word could escape. He smiled at the silent joke, and I could see glint of dark green as his devious eye caught the morning sun. He had been testing me.

His teeth were sharp, and I could still feel the remnants of the bite on the back side of my neck, where he had consummated his primeval desire.

When he looked at me I could hear his thoughts clearly. The vow of silence had given me that small ability. As much as I wanted to be his possession, I knew he only owned me as much as one owns their own reflection in the mirror. He genuinely desired me. He craved the simplicity of my youth.

He had to return to his home filled with stress and stethoscopes. He would go back to the endless competition and the ego of the big city. He had to fit in to his high society, and I would go back to a red hexagonal tent in a state park. All I had to worry about was finishing meals on time and cleaning dishes. His smile spoke of admiration. At that moment who was master and who was slave, seemed irrelevant. Our mutual desires fed off each other, in an unending, passionate loop.

If there was to be any joke that summer, it was the fact that I, the fucked-up, failure of a student, was the one who had reached Enlightenment. I had run from the impossible expectations of my father, and I had run into myself.

I thought once that to be enlightened was to be free of desire. But it wasn't true. I had learned in that moment while I was pressed against the tree that desire opened the door to the larger world. What I had been was lost at that moment under the cedar tree. Once I saw the world as no longer separate when we were one body, but just an extension of the tree and the ground, I would not be alone again. Even when he left, I was not alone. The touch of his beard and his breathe would never keep me on that far side of my isolation. Even if I fulfilled the expectation around me and went back to school, I would return carrying his mark and his odor on me. Sometimes we take and sometimes we give. But with everything that we gain, we lose something. And every time we lose something, we gain. But, what we gained and lost hardly mattered, when the giver and the taker were just branches of the same tree.