My heart stops, I’m plunged into memories.
There you are, dressed for the prom, your arm around her. I’ve not seen a single photo of you in more than twenty years. Every memento I had of you, every photo, every note we passed in class, was destroyed by a jealous boyfriend back when we were still young.
He was right to be suspicious.
You were my first boyfriend, you sat in front of me in seventh grade Mythology. I’ve made this into my own myth. Tall, taller even then me, brown eyes, brown hair, people asked if we were brother and sister. “He’s trouble,” is what everyone said when I’d mention your name.
Notes passed back and forth until the first snowfall, our first kiss. I mimicked what I saw in movies, wide hungry mouth, hands pressing the back of your head. I shoved my tongue down your throat until you pushed me away.
Practice made perfect. Continue reading
I arch, buckle, scream, curve, collapse. Jay carefully wipes his hand off on a towel, then lies down next to me.
“That’s really the last time, you know,” he says sorrowfully. I rest my head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer.
“I know,” I answer, trying to speak over the lump in my throat.
We’ve had our one last time for the third time now, we’re reluctant to stop. She’s come back, and he needs to know. Things are getting too complicated. It’s painful, we’ve been over every angle dozens of times, but the only solution is to stop being lovers.
“I’ll call you,” he says, and I know he will. We stand on my porch and hold each other for a long time. His arms are warm, safe. I nuzzle the space between his shoulder and neck, inhaling his earthy scent. I want to keep this next moment from happening, but it does. As Jay plants a kiss on top of my head, I feel him wipe away his own tears. This is really it, no more one-more-times. Continue reading
“Accidentally?” Jay cocks a skeptical eyebrow.
“Boyfriend from a long time ago,” I explain. “He was fingering me and kept adding fingers until…whoops! I don’t know who was more surprised. Anyway, it frightened us both and kinda killed the mood. We didn’t know it was a ‘thing.’ We thought we did something wrong.”
“Let me fist you,” Jay says, “the right way.”
I’m feeling adventurous and horny, so I agree. Jay lubes up, completely coating his hand up to his wrist. His hand suddenly looks enormous. “Just two fingers for now,” Jay says. I’m surprised to find that I’m tense. Usually two fingers are no problem, but he has to work them in. I adjust the pillow behind my head. I can’t seem to get comfortable, my neck aches with tension.
“Have I ever hurt you?” Jay asks. I tell him no, of course not. “Relax and trust me then,” he replies, “this will really be okay.” I feel a third finger slide in, I start to breathe deep to relax. I stop fighting it, I try to let my mind drift. I start thinking about being tied up and fucked, pretending his fingers are a giant cock…I squirt a little– now I’m definitely relaxed. Continue reading
“I think I just peed a little. Fuck.” Horrified, I start peeling the blankets off the bed.
“That wasn’t pee, you just squirted a little, that’s all,” Mister laughs, moving out of my way.
“Yeah,” I grumble, stripping the bed. “I squirted piss all over the clean sheets.”
Mister sits down at his laptop, then motions me to come over. He plays a video clip of a woman squirting fluid into a forceful high arc. “Look, I can make you do that,” he says confidently. “It’s so fucking hot when a chick squirts. I think you’d love it.” We watch several more videos purely for scientific research before I agree to let him try it on me.
I cover the bed with a beach towel as a precaution. Mister sits on the bed and pushes my knees apart. “If it feels like you need to pee, just go with it,” he tells me. Without warning, he slaps my pussy hard with his open hand. It startles me, but I like it. My pussy instantly feels warm and tingly. Continue reading
I see the skeleton of a Ferris Wheel looming in the distance, so I get an idea. A dingy little camper serves as the carnival employment office. A lady with the word LOVE tattooed across her knuckles in jerky blue ink hands me an index card. She tells me to write down my name, it doesn’t have to be my real one, and a phone number. “Check back Thursday,” she hacks through a cloud of cigarette smoke.
On Thursday, I’m assigned to work for Big Gary. “You’ll know ’em when you see ’em, honey,” wheezes the employment lady, pointing down the midway. I find Big Gary, an enormous black-haired man wearing a bright white polo shirt. He hands me an ID tag and my own white polo shirt emblazoned with the carnival’s logo. Big Gary shows me how to run the game. The premise is simple, take the fishing pole with a ring instead of a hook dangling from the end, snag the bottle that’s laying on it’s side and tip it up, win a cheap stuffed animal.
He waddles around the perimeter of the game, tipping each one up in quick succession. He hands me the pole, but I can’t do it. He laughs, explains how the game is rigged, then tells me to be back at 10 am the next day for opening. He’ll pay me in cash at the end of the two week run of the show. Continue reading
One of us is always in the middle of a bad choice.
Brendan is soft-spoken, sweet, shy. He only looks imposing, six and a half feet tall, heavy metal long hair, an on-and-off again drug habit. We’ve known each other so long that neither of us remembers quite how we met, but we’ve never managed more than a few clandestine kisses in all these years.
It’s like trying to fit the pieces from two different puzzles together. I’m engaged, alone, losing my shit, pulling it together. I need space, air, time. He stops drinking, starts meth, gets a job, fired, in jail, here and gone again. He moves to Colorado in the middle of the night. It’s never the right time.
After another long absence, Brendan materializes one day. I’m sitting at my friend’s kitchen table, and there he is, filling the doorway. He’s put back on all the pre-meth weight, acquired more tattoos, a goatee. We hug, he blushes, our hands tangling under the table as everyone catches up. We’re both single. He invites me to his new place, within walking distance of a yet another new factory job. Continue reading
He obediently crawls across the bed, looking at me like a tiger ready to pounce on fresh meat. I brush the mass of curls away from his eyes, pushing his head towards the big red dildo protruding from my pussy. Eagerly, he licks the tip, then takes the whole cock into his mouth. I gasp, I can feel the end inside me pushing against all the right places. I tell him he might suck dick better than I do. Theo laughs and says he’s had a lot of practice, which sends an electric surge straight to my pussy.
Idly, I watch him blow me for a while, then I ask if there’s any foreplay he wants. Theo tells me he would love it if I lick his ass. I’ve never done that before, it’s one of the rare things that I consider taboo. I hesitate, but his excitement overrides my apprehension. We showered together right before we came into the bedroom, so I know he’s clean. I tell him maybe, but I want to scope it out a bit first. Theo gets on his knees, resting his head against a stack of pillows. I spread his ass cheeks and sniff, trying not to giggle. I kiss his balls, his buttocks, working into the idea. I moisten a finger tip and rub the pink creases surrounding his anus. Theo shudders with pleasure. I tentatively give his ass a flick with my tongue. So far, so good. Continue reading
I’m sitting on a brown plaid couch at my boyfriend Gary’s house, but he isn’t here. My best friend, Amanda, is in the bedroom fucking Brett, Gary’s older brother. It’s not even noon and she already fucked a guy named Richie this morning. It’s my freshman year of high school, she’s an 8th grader.
I flip through TV channels, cranking the volume to drown out the sounds from the bedroom. School photos line the living room walls. In every one, Gary’s big crooked brown glasses cast awkward shadows across his face. Brett is the handsome one. In his photos, he poses with trophies from track, football, tennis, as if coming in first was just his natural place in the world. His blue and white varsity jacket hangs off a chair, laden with medals.
I find something to watch, then doze off. Amanda wakes me up by gently shaking my shoulder. Her moon face is flush and her ponytail has come undone. “Brett wants to talk to you,” she says, gesturing towards the bedroom. Brett is standing naked in the doorway. I’ve never seen a naked guy in real life before. He gently takes my hand and leads me towards the bed. I realize this is his parents room, unless he’s in the habit of wearing a pink bathrobe and smoking a pipe. I sit down on the corner of the bed, staring at him in disbelief. I ask him what he wanted to talk to me about. Brett laughs, then starts to unbutton my shirt. Continue reading
1. I’m twelve years old the first time I meet Alan. His best friend Cliff is my first boyfriend, my first kiss. We’re all in 7th grade. The three of us are inseparable. Cliff is tall and serious. Alan is his sidekick, too loud, too fat, too obnoxious, too-much-of-everything. Cliff and I will drift apart, but Alan will become the single thread that weaves in and out of my life for the next twenty years.
2. We’re sophomores in high school. I’m still in love with Cliff, even though we broke up in 8th grade. I lost my virginity at the beginning of the school year. I have a taste for sex now, and I want Cliff , he should have been the one I lost it with. Alan wants me. Alan is the only one of us with a car, and he refuses to pick me up unless I agree to fuck both of them. I fuck Alan first, just to shut him up, and the bed cracks. He pouts outside in the car while I give Cliff a blowjob, honking the horn and flashing the car lights on and off through the bedroom window. Next year Alan and Cliff will get in a terrible fight and never speak again, and neither one will ever tell me exactly what happened.
3. I’m downtown with my friends. We all look alike, big hair and tight jeans. We sneak sips of Southern Comfort from a can of Coke that we pass back and forth. There’s a party that’s supposed to be cool, so we go. I immediately spot Alan. He’s lean. He looks shiny and muscular. He says he’s in the Air Force and he’s on leave. I can’t take my eyes off him. I follow him to the house where he’s staying, and we drink beer and play quarters with his buddies. I go outside for air and lay on the hammock, but I’m so drunk that I flip right off. Alan carries me upstairs and we fuck so loud that they crank up the stereo downstairs to drown us out. Continue reading
It just barely reaches into the bathroom. Hunching down next to the laundry basket, I ask “Is your dick out?” There’s a shuffling noise, then Teddy says he’s rubbing his hard-on against the phone. He thinks he might be able to sneak out tonight. I say my mom is sleeping in the living room, plus it’s a school night. The blue flicker of the TV seeps underneath the bathroom door. A generic sound that could be applause or static hisses in the night. I pull the phone cord tighter to edge away from the sound.
Teddy tells me to rub my boobs on the phone, but instead I rub my hand back and forth across the mouthpiece. He asks if my nipples are hard. Suddenly, I notice the absence of the flickering light and the static. The couch springs creak as they sag heavy. “Hang on,” I whisper to Teddy. Opening the door slowly, I wait a moment, then pull it shut again.
“Say something to make me horny,” he says. I think for a moment, then tell him I’m touching my pussy, even though I’m not. Teddy’s breath crackles in my ear, he wishes I was there. I wonder aloud if a warm wet washcloth would feel like a pussy. He says he’ll try it. The phone crashes down, he fumbles for a minute before he picks back up. Continue reading