Paula Bomer - Inside Madeleine

She woke in the mornings tired, dark rings under her eyes, her fingers smelling that mossy smell. Her insides would be tender at times and she carried this tender feeling around with her at school like a secret trophy. In classes, she’d look at certain boys, boys who once seemed intimidating and powerful and she’d smile at them knowingly, thinking, I could put you inside of me, I could eat you up.

Once, when her parents had returned to bed early and she sat up with her older sister Amanda watching TV, she asked her how big she thought she was there.

What?

You know, down there. How big are you?

You’re disgusting, Maddy.

Just tell me.

I don’t know.

Can you put a finger up there?

Of course I can. I can put a tampon up there.

Can you put all your fingers up there?

I wouldn’t know. Honestly, you are sick.

Shortly thereafter, her mother approached her bedside. Nervously, she discussed the facts of life with her daughter, explaining how the size of one’s vagina changes to accommodate different things. A man’s penis. A baby. Her dark eyes darted around the room. She wiped a greasy strand of hair from her forehead. She coughed and kissed her daughter goodnight on the forehead, her lips hard and tight.

Jennifer no longer talked to Maddy. Maddy’s new best friend was an equally small girl with dull, tan eyes and an extensive knowledge of sexual things. Her name was Carrie and she had had sex with many high school boys. Carrie was in Madeleine’s math class and they often did homework together, which meant Maddy let her copy her homework.

How big are you down there? Maddy asked her one day.

Big enough.

Big enough for what?

For dick, silly. For big dick.

I think I’m bigger than most.

Oh yeah? Well, you’re a big girl.

Yeah, but even for a big girl.

At Carrie’s house, Maddy convinced her friend to show herself. Carrie’s mother was spending the night at her boyfriend’s house and the two girls had smoked a joint and were watching TV.

Come on. Let me see. I want to see what yours looks like.

You’re a pervert, Carrie said, her eyes narrowing, but she appeared intrigued.

Come on, Carrie. I’ll show you mine.

Carrie stood up and pulled down her jeans.

Promise not to tell anyone we did this? I don’t want people thinking we’re lesbos or anything.

Yeah. Of course. I won’t tell.

She wore striped blue panties that were delicately stained yellow in the crotch. She pulled them down and kicked them off. She stood there, revealing a tan-colored patch of hair between her thin legs and nothing else.

See, she said.

I want to see the inside, Maddy said.

Carrie blushed and frowned. The TV illuminated her from behind and she sat down and spread her legs.

There.

Maddy looked. She saw two, small pink mounds. She was disappointed.

Let me spread it open.

Carrie didn’t say anything and Madeleine with one hand, gently opened up the pink flesh. Nothing there, she again was disappointed. She wanted to see a dark hole, an endless, vast tunnel.

How big of dick have you put in there?

I don’t know.

Carrie got up and dressed.

Show me.

Carrie distanced her hands in front of her face. Like this big, she said and shrugged, like ten inches. Fat ones, too.

Madeleine leaned back on a cushion and looked toward the TV and said, do you want to see mine?

Sure. Why not.

Maddy removed her pants and sat like her friend had, with her legs spread apart. With one large hand she pulled herself wide open and looked up at Carrie, who squinted between her legs.

Ugh. That’s disgusting.

It’s big, isn’t it?

I don’t know. It’s gross, though. All pussy is gross.

What do you mean you don’t know? It’s big!

I guess so. It’s just gross.

Carrie looked at the TV.

Maddy buttoned up her clothes. The next night, at her own house, she took her father’s shaving mirror out of the bathroom and locking her door, peered at her insides in the mirror. Carrie was right. From the outside its capacity wasn’t entirely visible, but she was not so easily deceived. She put three fingers inside and then looked. Yes, indeed, she thought. Yes I do.

She began stealing vegetables from the fridge. Cucumbers, carrots, whole bunches of celery. Her mother thought she was eating them and occasionally said something to her daughter. When did you eat all of those, she’d say, looking at Maddy with narrow, suspicious eyes. Well at least it’s just vegetables, she’d say to her daughter. And Maddy did eat them — but only after she put them inside her. She shopped with her mother, buying the large, economy-sized bottles of shampoo. During her nightly bath, she worked up to putting them inside of her. Her crotch was smooth, baby peach, from pulling at all the pubic hairs. She wanted the whole world in there, she wanted the whole world to disappear in her cunt so that she could slide it — gleaming, coated damp — back out again. By the end of the seventh grade, she decided to do so.

4

She fucked the rink guard Oz again and the other one that Jennifer was never going to fuck. She fucked friends of theirs, too. On Friday nights, her mother would drop her and her new friend Carrie off at the rink. Sometimes Jennifer would be there but she never said hi to Carrie and Madeleine. Oz told his friends about her and they drove to Howard Park to see her, their souped-up cars roaring. She imagined the things he said to them. She’s beautiful. She has beautiful breasts. She’ll make you come so hard. With her mouth. With her cunt. She’s the best there is. And she’d think about their cocks, all big and hard, just for her. She made them that rigid, that sleek. They lost control for her. She drove them wild.

But it wasn’t quite like that and Maddy knew it. She knew they came to see her, but she also knew the things Oz said to them were different than she imagined.

They came in carloads of two up front and two in the back. Cute, tall, short, pimply, mean, quiet, scared, rough. Big cocks, small ones, but they were always hard. Pressed up against tight jeans. They’d get hard before she got in the car. They’d get hard just leaning over the rail of the ice rink, as Carrie and Maddy skated up to them in hot pink ski jackets that matched their hot pink lips. Their eyes sticky with sparkly blue eyeshadow and thick, thick mascara.

They’d get hard as they asked the girls to come out and drive around, shifting from leg to leg, tight blue jeans revealing it, hands in their pockets, nervously looking around. Carrie would work the front and Maddy would work the back because they fit better that way. But it changed, too. Depending on who the boys wanted. Some dark skinned Italian boy who sat behind the wheel, compact and gruff, saying, come here Mad girl, come here. Get your big ass up here I don’t want that little skinny girl, his eyes black and round. And Maddy would smile smile smile, so wanted, so so wanted, and she’d get up front with him and Carrie would jump in the back.

Their cocks hard against their jeans, thick, lumplike. She put her hand on it. Looking at it in their pants. Looking at the boy looking at his own thing, looking at her hand on his cock still nestled in his jeans. She unzipped their jeans, carefully, so as not to hurt the goods, some zippers moved right along, other stuck and rusted, took a while. Those were the best. The boys’ mouths would open, they’d get anxious, breathless, they’d put their hands there to help, sometimes grabbing the zipper from her and undoing it themselves, sometimes pulling out their hard cocks, sometimes leaving it in their Jockey underwear for her to pull out. They wanted it so bad it hurt them. Their cocks bouncing up, straining in their own skins. Beads of sticky clearness on top, quivering, dripping. So ready to blow Maddy bit her lip, trying not to laugh.