THE SPIRIT HARVEST
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
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"Spirit?" I called when I got to Spirit's farmhouse. The front door was open, so he must be around the place somewhere. Spirit's house had once held a large number of people, mostly hippies from the early 70's, after they had fled the cities and gone to the farms to attempt to build communes and with the communes, a new way of life. Well, that hadn't worked out and now that it was now the early 1980's, only Spirit still lived on the place. The rest of them had gone back home, back to college, back to lives that had turned them into stockbrokers and corporate executives and housewives and college professors. Only Spirit remained on the farm, his last co-owner, Windflyer, having moved back to Arizona last summer to go stay with his mother, now in the throes of a long, losing fight with cancer.
So I got a chance to earn some cash by working on his farm during his harvest, which is why I was now standing in his front yard, yelling!
"This way, Mist Flower!" Spirit called to me. Okay, that needs some explaining! I'd grown up around Spirit and seeing how, back then, they'd all had names they'd given each other or given themselves, at the precocious age of eight, I had asked Spirit and his friends to give me a communal name for my visits with them. They'd chosen "Mist Flower." It sounded a lot better among all those gentle-souled hippies back in 1972 when I was eight than it did now in 1982 when I was eighteen and the hippies had faded into history and oblivion.
But nobody else was around, so I let it slide and even liked it a bit, a taste of my uncomplicated childhood, if you see. "Hey, Spirit!" I called as I got to him. Spirit was sitting in lotus position (legs crossed over each other, hands with index fingers and thumbs touching on hands laid open on his knees) in a small cove of meditation he had built, his eyes were closed and he didn't acknowledge me by looking at me or anything...but I knew I was welcome. I looked at Spirit, now in his mid-thirties, but still a fine-looking man now wearing only a wrap around his loins. His body, lean and muscled from the farm work (Spirit eschewed mechanical aids such as tractors and mowers, he did all the work himself, by hand), with a diamond-shaped brush of fur on his chest between his ample pecs and his arms composed of a melon-shaped shoulder, an orange-shaped bicep and a cucumber-shaped lower arm. Spirit didn't have a body you'd see on a magazine or anything...but his body was somehow more real than theirs, because it wasn't shaped exactly perfect. Very real...and disturbingly sexual. Hey, this was the man who'd seen me as a buck-toothed eight-year-old, and who had rubbed my head of hair affectionately, and given me my communal name. Desiring him was somehow...incorrect.
So I sat carefully apart from him, on a bench he had nearby and looked at him serene and involved in his meditation, and the morning went on. After about a half hour, I cleared my throat and said, "Uh, Spirit? We'd better get started on the fields. You have a lot to gather before the frosts come, you know."
"All in its time." Spirit said. "All must occur at its designated time, or the forces of nature are disrupted, and unhappiness results."
"All right." I said and settled back down again. He was paying by the day for my work, and if he wanted me to sit on my butt and watch him hum softly to himself (his mantra, that is), that was his decision to make.
The day was turning into a nice one. Not too hot, not too cold, the sun just warm and pleasant, a few clouds up there to make the sky interesting, and promising rain but not too soon.
I settled into something of a meditative state myself. I had to make a decision pretty soon. Did I stay with Dad on the farm or did I head off to make a life of my own in the city?
I liked the country life, hell, yeah, but it could be awful dull, too, sometimes. Even most times, working in the fields, riding a tractor. You could play the radio, but hearing it over the tractor roar was something less than satisfying. And the songs all sounded alike after a while, they play the same music over and over, the popular tunes, and you get damned sick of it. But the only other choice is talk-talk-talk, about stuff I didn't have much of an opinion on.
Sure, the farm life was in my blood...but was it in my heart?
Something to really meditate on, I reckon.
Softly, barely making a sound, Spirit rose to a standing position, using only his legs and rising straight up. You can do that if your legs are strong and your body is trained to stay in perfect balance. Otherwise, you hurt the hell out of your ankles and can even break them. But Spirit didn't even falter, just stood upright as soft as a breath of wind and said, "It is time to go into the field." He paused only to dress in simple peasant-cloth shirt and pants, and we finally started to work.
Spirit may not use any modern methods, but he spent so much time on his crops, they looked magnificent. The cornstalks were heavy in heads of corn, the strawberries were dotted red upon their vines, the cabbages were huge globes upon nests of spread-out leaves.
"What do we do?" I asked Spirit. "Start at one end of the row and work our way down, or gather them by kind one at a time?"
Spirit looked scandalized, then smiled. "You have worked upon your father's field for too long, learned the ways of commerce and raping the land. We will take only what is ready to be taken."
"Yeah?" I said. "How do we know that?"
"We walk among them, and we listen."
I considered this. "I'd better let you listen and I'll carry the baskets." I decided.
I tried figuring out how he chose which items to pick and which not to. It baffled me. He would reach up and pluck a head of corn from the stalk, and leave the rest. Everything he picked was ripe and such, but I'd point to a melon or a cabbage, and Spirit would shake his head, always saying, "It is not the time for it to be harvested."
By mid-afternoon, we had finished, but we had only gathered some fourteen bushels of different items, mostly of corn. A lot was left in the ground, like 95% of it!
"Now what?" I asked Spirit when we had put the bushels into his storage shed. We had three or four more hours to go on my daily schedule with him. If he said so, I could go home now....
"Now, we celebrate the harvest." Spirit said.
"Oh. Okay." I was disappointed, but only a little, as I think I've already said, I liked Spirit, he was an long-time friend of mine. If he wanted to just hang out the rest of the day, I was good with that. "How do we celebrate?"
"We can go commune with the river." suggested Spirit.
A swim, was what he meant. "Sure!" I said. The weather had gone from just-right to a bit hot, this might be the last really decent day for swimming this year. "Only I didn't bring a swimsuit."
"No need, Mist Flower." Spirit assured me. "We will let the waters nourish our souls and become one with the world."
"Skinny-dipping, huh?" I snickered.
"You have the wrong frame of mind, my Mist Flower." Spirit chided me. "You cannot discover your position in the universe if you distract your mind with crassness of society."
"I'm sorry." I said.
As usual, Spirit's forgiveness was immediate and complete. "The mind learns through errors made and corrected."
At the river bank, I again found myself studying Spirit's body. The way his body was so right for him, for the life he'd chosen. And when he dove, it was the simple poetry of a man joining the river. The water simply parted to let him enter, no splash, no spray, just the man entering the element and it accepting him. I dove myself, but that was the act of a young man forcing the water to accept him...not the same, not at all. I didn't just splash...I splattered!
I saw the way Spirit swam, so easily, so much a part of the water, he was like a fish. Me, I flailed and slapped and broke the water over and over. It was humiliating, even if Spirit never seemed to notice it happening! Why couldn't I have this sense of complete peace and tranquility Spirit had? Why was I still fighting the world?
Spirit finished his swim and went up onto the bank, and spread himself out and yawned. I was a good ways across the river as he did that, and by the time I got all the way over to his side, Spirit had fallen asleep.
God, he had it so easy! I was the one searching for my place in life, the path I'd take, the choices I'd make, they were all up in front of me, right in my face! I had to choose, did I say with my father's farm or did I cut and take off, hope to find something better elsewhere? I had to decide if I continued my education past my high school diploma. Was I going to be a doctor, lawyer, Indian chief, rich man, poor man, banker, thief? Where was I going? What would I do when I got there? Was I even going anywhere? Would I die some day, having accomplished nothing, done nothing, been nothing?
And there was Spirit, a man who knew just what he wanted and how to do it. He didn't even pick his crop unless he felt like it. Laugh at the old-time hippie communes all you want, they were on the track of something. They didn't make it...but they were aimed in the right direction, which is more than I could say for myself!
Spirit looked so peaceful, lying there on the shelf of grass next to the trees. The sun was shining on him, but the shade was already reaching out to cover him, protect him, like the world moved to his whim. I wanted to be like Spirit! I wanted to be Spirit! I wanted to...love him.
Well, he was asleep. I could look all I wanted just now. He wouldn't know.
Move around to get a better view of the part he'd kept covered under that loincloth before. The parts I hadn't dared look at while he was swimming, for fear he'd see me looking.
But I wasn't afraid to look now. I could let my passions guide me now, Spirit would not know.
Smooth as an otter, quiet as a snake, I slid up next to Spirit. The grass grew to the very verge, to the edge of the sharp, bare rock that made the river's edge. I could stay in the river, submerge if he wakened. I rose up so easily, gently, that the water didn't make a sound. Softly as a cloud passes over the sun's face, my own body's shadow slid over the twin orbs of his buttocks. His legs were too close together to show me any part of his privates, I felt cheated. A smaller shelf lay just below the river-side leg. If I could shift it slightly, it would fall over and onto the smaller lower ledge, and the nexus of his legs would be revealed.
Move with the water, smooth as the mist, I caught his leg, gently moving it, as if the leg were moving itself, exerting only the pressure that would cause it to slide on the slope it was already upon, it moved and over and I had to catch it to keep it from falling, but then it was down, the leg from the knee down resting now upon the lower ledge, and now his legs were splayed apart a few feet, and I could look between them.
The purple pucker of his asshole was there, clean, totally unblemished and unmarked by any toilet-paper dingleberries or imperfect cleansings, the skin was pure and soft and supple looking.
Below that...I couldn't believe my luck. In some way, he had managed to push his cock and balls below his body as he lay down, and now they were ensconced on the grass between his now-opened legs, depending toward his feet, the full glory of his manhood.
I knew I could only have a moment or so here, soon enough I would need to move on and away from him, so he wouldn't know I had helped myself to an unfettered view. But for now, oh, just to be this close to this perfect a human being (no, not a perfect man, his body wasn't perfect, but it fit him, oh, it fit him and his life so well!), I wanted to get closer still, and I dared to poke my face closer to his nether regions, and my nostrils caught the faint, but pungent whiff of his groin, the concentrated maleness that boils out of any body there, it can be deep and fetid in the prison of your briefs, but here, and now, it was like the perfume of an accomplished woman, enough to awaken the passion without being enough to identify the fragrance consciously, you didn't know the smell was perfume, it was only the person, this was like that, this was Spirit, this was him, all of him.
Without knowing myself, I ended up with my nose practically against his sphincter, and the smell of his testicles bathed my senses; I inhaled, I sighed, and with my passion in control, I reached up with my tongue and I gently touched the tip of it to his small wrinkled tuckerhole, and when I did, it sort of dimpled and constricted, as if beckoning me onward, inward, come into my dark parlor, and rest upon my silken cushions within, I shall make thee forget the sunlight, forget the world, forget all but that you slumber within me.
Oh, God, I wanted him so bad! I closed my eyes and I sighed, such a soft, soft sound.
And Spirit hummed. Just a sound, not his mantra, not words, just a sort of...summoning. My dear, gentle-hearted Spirit, only he could speak without words, communicate without breaking this mood of secret conspiracy. In a way both nonverbal and undisputed, I knew that I had his permission to proceed.
My tongue returned and dove into the anus, and it again dimpled, this time it caught my tonguetip and helped guide it inside. Only a fraction of a quarter of an inch, but it was a joining just the same.
Spirit keened again, this time a little louder, only a hair, it was still one with the wind and the leaves of the trees rustling, and the music of the running water. All of it, one, the world together as a whole, and I was a part of it. I'd always been a part of it, I just hadn't seen that before, I was as much a child of this universe as the trees and the grass and the sky and the river, I was here and nothing I did really changed that. I was only realizing the way things had always been.
And for that brief time, I was part of Spirit's way of looking at life, and I knew now how he could tell which of the fruits of his fields to pick and which to leave behind, for the vegetables that feed us want to feed us, their gift to us of their bodies is the trade they make for us helping their seeds to grow as they do. There was no destruction in the harvest, the fruit was ripe, the stalks were ready, the grains were willing to cast themselves into the great community of life, knowing that some of them would be born again into new plants, and the others would be born into a part of our very selves.
And that simply, Spirit's permission was given to do as I wanted, as I needed, to do with him. And with this permission came a knowledge that was older than teachers, for it welled up from within. I knew to use my tongue to lubricate his anus, I knew to mark his gentle roseate opening with thick gray pearls of my saliva, until it was festooned with moisture, and then, to bring more of it onto my own manhood, and when both were coated and smoothed, I could then place the one to the other and feel the joy as Spirit's body accepted my tower of virility into itself.
I was unschooled, and yet my body knew what to do, I could gauge from the way of how it felt when I should pause, when I could proceed, when I should shove and when I should pull back. With small, kindly steps, my cock slowly inserted itself into Spirit's asshole, and when I had it firmly within, I shifted my weight and now I was ready to dance the very dance of life itself!
The thrust of my hips was no violation, no mangy, vulgar coupling, we were combining ourselves into a portion of a gigantic machine composed of a million million parts, and when two of them came together, this was how they acted upon each other, for the Earth was alive and we were its parts, and as we moved, so did the world.
Daring everything now, I laid myself upon Spirit's back, my own leg moved down to the lower ledge to join his, and with the purchase I gained, I began to hunch into his bowels in earnest. My dick was alive with the pleasures I was wringing from this, my entire body shivered as the joy raced up from my glans into all four of my limbs and into my brain, my skin was contributing every nerve to the carrying of these pulses, and my glory was unbounded and infinite.
This was the ultimate meaning of life, the joining of two bodies in this way, done right, it was all the answer to the problems of the universe you would ever need. I plunged my dong into Spirit's butt and all of it was glorious, glorious, GLORIOUS!
Spirit's moaning told of his joining me in my delight, he loved the way that I, his longtime, young friend, was a child no longer, now a man, I was joining with him as a man, this body which I had clutched once as a child to protect me, I now held within my own circle of arms to wrest from it my ecstasy as my body's passion rose in me like the fires in a furnace, turning my soul fire-red, glowing like a lantern in the darkness, and I was in the light of day and still I shone as bright as the sun, brighter than the sky, I was immortal, I was invincible, I was...I was THERE!
"Oh, oh, I'm coming!" I gasped out as my ecstasy consumed me, I could manage no more words for all my energy, all my sounds, were servants of my climax, I ejaculated heavily into Spirit's willing body and it was like the raw energy that had composed the universe was being transmitted, I was but a conduit for the basic sexual power that flooded my soul and transported my essence into the very lands of paradise! It lasted only a few seconds, as with any mortal being, but it was all the time I needed to live, grow old, and attain the wisdom, within the confines of Valhalla, of the Elysian Fields, of Heaven!
And with the return of my spirit to Earth once again, I collapsed, my journey having exhausted me, my glory sinking down, not lost to me, but rather transmuted into the experiences that I could store and relive again and again for the rest of my life.
"Ah, my own little Mist Flower." Spirit said as I feebly got off him and laid on my back further from the river. Spirit did not rise, he simply turned onto his side and rested a knowing hand upon my still rising-and-falling chest.
"Oh, man, I can't believe that." I said.
"Believe it." Spirit assured me. "Love is love in any of its forms, you know that there is no evil in any of it, there can never be evil, which is the lack of love, so long as love is present."
"Yeah, I know that...now." I said. Still panting, I swallowed hard, and rose up. "I guess I should get on home now, Mom and Dad will be expecting me."
"You should go to wherever your home is." Spirit said, and I didn't realize that he hadn't agreed with me when he said that.
I felt it as I walked the half-mile back to my own farm, in the silence that was the world, now it wasn't a foreign place to me, I was like Spirit now, comfortable with myself and with my life and my choices. Oh, I still had to make choices...but now I knew that they were only choices, with no change of my essential self weighing in their balance. I could be a businessman without losing my kind heart, I could travel without betraying my family and the fields of my childhood.
Yes, I should go to wherever my home is, I thought as I trod my steps up the house where I'd been raised and where I would sleep before returning to help Spirit with his harvest once more in the morning. I had finished my walk.
But I wasn't finishing my journey. Indeed, I was only beginning it.
THE END
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