The White Tigress
A psychedelic blow-bang tale
I’m on a streetcar in San Fransisco. I get off at the intersection of Broadway and Columbus. I’m looking for the City Lights bookstore. There it is, right in front of me. It’s in the flatiron building. Crossing the street, I think about the beat poets of the 60’s, Jack Kerouac and the like, who walked the same path I am walking now. I blush when I see a massive poster with my face on it. It’s a black-and-white shot of me wearing a vintage wide-brimmed hat which I’m pulling down over one eye and looking back over my shoulder; I look like the femme fatale of some film noir detective movie and my lips are bright red. My signature is written in lipstick; it’s pink, and there’s a heart over the ‘i’ in Toni. Electric words flash: Book signing tonight!
In the door, I’m met right away by good friend and West Coast agent Lyle Kristofferson.
“So lovely to see you, my dear!” Lyle floats into my space and kisses me on both cheeks. “And you look absolutely fabulous, as always!” Lyle is wearing a black turtleneck sweater, black slacks, and black loafers. He wears smart, round eyeglasses with robin egg blue frames. I’m wearing a black dress with heels that are Tiffany blue, and my hair is in a bun.
“Darling, you must meet Tony!” Lyle takes my hand and leads me into the depths of the bookstore. Guests step aside and turn and smile and a gentleman says, "Good evening, Miss Heart," a young man in a green blazer and purple bowtie offers me a glass of champagne from a silver tray and I take it, and we meet Tony on the far side of a makeshift stage.
“Toni, meet Tony!” Lyle beams.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I say. Tony takes my hand and kisses it.
“The pleasure is mine.”
Tony is about six feet tall, with black, slicked back hair, the sides and back short. He’s wearing a black blazer over a black dress shirt, open collar, black slacks and jade-colored suede tassel loafers.
“Tony is such a bore!” Lyle says putting his arm around Tony. He doesn’t like to brag about himself, so I’ll do it for him: Tony is a Jade Dragon.”
Tony smiles and looks at his feet for a moment then at me.
“Tell me more,” I say.
“It’s a Taoist sex thing,” he says.
“Toni,” Lyle turns to me, “I was telling Tony before you arrived that not only are you the hottest erotic author of our time…that you are also a White Tigress in the making. I blush.
“You’re familiar with White Tigress practices?” Tony asks me.
“Becoming familiar,” I remark. “I have been reading up on aspects of Taoist sexology, particularly the female aspects.
“Did I tell you this chick is precious?” Lyle leans into our circle and brushes Tony’s back then notices his watch. “Oh, darling, you’re on in 5 minutes!”
“On stage, girl! You’re doing a live reading.”
“Oh, gosh!” I say, “No one told me that! And I’m entirely unprepared.”
“Toni Heart, unprepared. Come on, now! Just break us off with little taste of something.”
I open my phone and browse my Notes app. I should be able to find something that will do. This is so impromptu! And at City Lights, no less. This place is legendary! I browse my phone for something to read. I could always read a part of The Skating Vixen. No. Too basic…everyone knows everything already about my fox mask and butt plug rollerblading stunt. This audience is sophisticated, they want to hear something new. I decide to read Double Trouble.
“Ladies and gentleman, thank you all so much for coming out tonight,” Lyle is on stage speaking into the microphone. “I am so pleased to introduce to you the star of the evening, Miss Toni Heart!”
There is a nice round of applause and I’m adjusting the microphone as I sit on a stool in the spotlight…just like a beat poet.
“Paul rolled the dice again,” I begin to read, after delivering a short introduction about Double Trouble. It’s a soon-to-be-published short story that has the feel of Stranger Things…teenagers in the eighties…and deals with an age-old question.
“‘Would you do it?’” Stevie asked.
“‘Do what?’” Paul replied.
“‘You know…with yourself?’”
“‘With my clone?’”
“‘Yeah, with your clone. Say there was some mad scientist out there who cloned you, and now you’re hanging out in your room with him and you’re feeling horny. Would you just jerk off? Or would you fuck your clone?’”
The spotlight shines bright and it’s hard to be sure, but the San Fransisco literary audience seems to consider the clone matter with genuine interest.
“‘Or, Stevie continues. Would you let your clone fuck you?’”
A svelte man in a burgundy sweater and salt and pepper pony tail lifts his hands and nods as if to say, that is a good question.
“Paul’s clone curled up beside him on the futon.” I’ve been reading for about twenty minutes now and I’m almost to the end. “‘That was what I needed,” said the clone. That was what I needed to feel safe.’” I close my phone. The crowd offers a profuse ovation.
“Fantastic!” Says the svelte man. “Wonderful! Simply Wonderful!”
The next morning I meet Tony for coffee at the Saint Frank café.
“Such a beautiful city,” I say. Tony sips a double espresso macchiato and I have a cappuccino.
Our topic of conversation soon turns to Taoist sex practices.
“When a man couples with a woman, his aura expands.” Tony explained. “But energetically, a woman loses something. She gives a part of herself to him. But the ancients understand how it’s possible for a woman to benefit from a man’s jing or sexual essence without draining her own power.”
“The White Tigress practice.” I say.
“Blowjobs,” Tony says.
“Right!” I say.
“A White Tigress may ingest up to three ejaculations from a man in one session. There is a code of ethics, as you know. The White Tigress is to benefit from the potency of his semen, but must’t become an energetic vampire, either. Most men don’t conserve their semen enough to provide three ejaculations per session and still remain healthy, so it is well that a White Tigress couple with a Jade Dragon.”
“And that’s where you come in,” I say.
Tony’s wearing a red and black plaid long sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and a brown hiking boots. His hair is combed over to one side and he has fashionable stubble. I’m wearing light blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a gray shawl sweater.
“I am a ninth degree dragon,” Tony says, matter-of-factly. “Think of it like being a black belt…in sexual kung fu.”
“That’s fascinating,” I say, understanding the true meaning of his words.
“The sexual act is a battle,” he continues. “A loving battle, but a battle nonetheless. The male hopes to draw out the females essence and absorb it through his penis. The woman wants to do the same. A Jade Dragon is skilled in retaining his energy in order to prolong his sexual performance, resulting in the woman receiving adequate spiritual and energetic nourishment, without the man depleting his energy.”
“So why would you want a White Tigress? I mean, why offer up your precious semen for the tigress to swallow?”
“At high levels of the dragon’s practice, the amount of energy we cultivate becomes a surplus. We have so much sexual energy, we are well to share some of it with a White Tigress who is herself aware of such subtle processes, and a good stewardess of the energy.”
“And you think I am that White Tigress…”
Tony gulps down the last of his espresso. “I think you are that White Tigress.”
We go on Tony’s houseboat. It’s parked at a dock. Tony helps me aboard and unties the boat and turns on the engine and it churns the water an amber color and we boat past the Golden Gate Bridge up to Sausalito. After dropping the anchor, he drops his pants, and I begin to blow him. His erection quality is far superior to most cocks I have ever blown. It is clear that this guy practices a strict discipline that involves retaining his sexual energy, and refraining of frivolous masturbation and ejaculation. His penis has seemed to learn to draw energy inward. In fact, as I suck him, I feel as if his cock is drawing my saliva inward. But Tony’s goal today is not to absorb my female, yin energy, but rather to ejaculate his yin, semen, and nourish me. He relaxes his perineum and I am sucking and stroking and soon he is moaning and trembling as he releases his cum into my mouth and I do by my best to keep up, swallowing it all down and feeling it warm my stomach.
The semen is potent — all semen is — and this semen that much more. I feel my pupils dilate as if I have eaten mushrooms.
“That’s very normal,” Tony says, noticing me noticing myself start to trip.
“I feel like I’m tripping,” I say.
Tony lets me trip for a while and he spoons me from behind and strokes my vulva while I masturbate.
“We’d love to have you at a Jade Dragon meeting,” he says.
“How does that work?” I ask.
“It’s a lot like this, but instead of your consuming the jism of just one Jade Dragon, you would consume that of eight Dragons.”
“Wow!” I say, imagining how hard I would trip off of that much cum.
“Think about it,” he says, “it’s in a week from now, on Gengshen, the next full moon.”
It’s a rainy Tuesday in Chinatown and I hop off the streetcar and make my way to a civic center guarded by jade lions and go down the stairs. Inside I’m greeted by Tony who gives me a long, warm hug and I hug him warmly too. Psychically I can feel the vibration of his sperm as he holds me around my waist. He leads me inside to a dressing room where I am invited to drink jasmine tea, shower if I like, change into a freshly laundered silk robe. I accept the tea, take a quick warm shower, and assume the silk floral robe. A few minutes later, Tony knocks and asks if I need anything else, and if I’m ready to meet the Dragons. I tell him I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, and he says great. He approaches me and holds me around my waist again and we kiss. He takes my hand, and says, “Shall we?” We shall.
The room where the Jade Dragon Blow-bang will be held looks like a cross between a kung fu studio and a Chinese living room. The walls are lined with cherrywood ball-in-claw chairs and the floor space is wide open. I come in with Tony and the other men are there to meet us.
“Good evening!” Someone says and we come together. The men are exceedingly polite and each greets me a kiss on the cheek. There are eight men total: Tony, the handsomest…Pete, a Chinese guy in his mid twenties…Eric, a blond American guy…Saul, very quiet but with a great body, early 40’s…Tim, a black guy…a few I don’t really remember…and…
And a surprise.
He looks so familiar, yet I can’t put my finger on it…I know I’ve seen him before, but whoever he is, he looks different.
The Dragons make a circle around me and ceremoniously I kneel on a pillow in the center. Tony is in the North position…I know that each position around the circle has special elemental significance…fire, water, mountain, and so on…but I don’t remember exactly what. Northwest guy, one of the Black guys stepped forward first and put his cock in my mouth. I blow him and his warm erection makes my throat dilate. And when my throat dilates, my eyes go cross-eyed — that’s my ahegao face — cross-eyed anime-style O-face. Northwest blew his load and I swallowed it down with relish.
Next, Tony. North. They are going clockwise. I am used to Tony as I already sucked his cock once, the other day on the houseboat. I’m warmed up from Northwest and greet North with a deep throat. I kneel down even more deeply like a tigress stalking prey. In my case, it is as if I am fishing. I anticipate a stream of microscopic fish flooding my esophagus and at that moment I realize I am beginning to trip again. Sperm is so psychedelic for me.
Northeast steps forward, Pete, the Chinese guy with the rippling Bruce Lee dick. Pete is like water…water can flow and water and crash…when he cums in my mouth he becomes my mouth.
East and Southeast cum next and my throat is dilated, my pupils are dilated, I feel like I have a fever. West is the guy that looks so, so familiar. I bow to felate him and all of a sudden, looking up at him, I remember. The svelte man! He looks different than he did in the burgundy sweater at my reading of Double Trouble.
Double Trouble. The age-old question would you fuck your clone?
Blowing the svelte man is blowing my mind. I go deeper into my trip until I can hardly remember where I am. I look around and the Dragons have become dragons. They are glowing bright jade green and dancing around me. Their hair is flowing white manes. The svelte man finishes and I swallow and then lie down on my back in the circle. The dragons continue to dance around me and I begin to masturbate wildly on the floor, writhing and hallucinating. Tripping balls.
A tribal drum begins beating and I can’t tell if someone is playing a drum or if it is coming from inside me. I continue to masturbate among the dancing dragons and all of a sudden, descending from the ceiling is the vision of my clone. It’s Toni Heart, 2.0. She descends in a cloud of light toward me and joins me on the floor where I pleasure myself. I am sure the Dragons can see her too, although that’s silly. Or is it?
Toni 2 gets right to work eating my pussy. And let me tell you something, there is nothing like being munched by your self. Who else knows how to please you better than you? I came quickly and then settled into the peaks and valleys of multiple orgasm. The dragons continued to dance.
Toni 2 sits on my face then and I revel in the sensation of being smothered by my own ass. Next we 69 and finger each other while sucking each other’s clitorises and I can’t remember who is me and who is the clone. At times I feel we are both me, or both clones…or that there is no difference whatever.
The Dragons are sitting now, and I am sure they can see both of us. I am sure of it.
I have never had this much cum inside me. And I have never tripped so hard.
I am making love to my clone and my clone is finger-fucking the shit out of me and we are both squirting like White Tigresses or female dragons.
The drumming is getting louder and louder and our pussies our throbbing, throbbing. We orgasm together, Toni 2 and I, and I have answered the age-old question.
My clone…would I? Would I!
Hell yes, I would fuck myself. And at the Jade Dragon Blow-bang in San Fransisco’s Chinatown that spring, I did.