Advertisement
Not a member of Pastebin yet?
Sign Up,
it unlocks many cool features!
- All the handholds of the tree are familiar. I don’t even have to
- knock on the second story window. It opens. He’s been waiting for
- me. The first time, I had to force him. The second time I had to beg.
- I’m relieved I don’t have to do that anymore, but part of me hates him
- for not resisting.
- “I need more,” I say.
- “Ok…ok,” he says. “I can stay home sick tomorrow. I hate algebra
- anyway.”
- This part is always awkward. I take off my college letterman jacket,
- and we both sit on his bed, a body’s width apart. Silence. Then we lean
- in clumsily, moving in the wrong directions — neck? wrist? somewhere
- else? — smiling politely like the people who keep cutting each other off,
- trying to pass in a cramped hall.
- Neck. Teeth. Then all awkwardness drains away. It’s so good.
- He moans in my ear. I muffle a moan that vibrates his throat.
- He breathes heavily. He holds on to me to keep from falling, and
- I gently lay us down. I can feel him stiffening. A flailing hand
- unintentionally clutches my breast, grasping and kneading, and
- the nipple stiffens, and my body never reacts like that anymore,
- except in this moment, and it’s so, so sweet. I drink, and we gently
- grind against each other, because what else can you do to keep
- from floating away? He gasps and shudders — a little death, just
- a little death — and I press his face against my shoulder to keep
- it quiet. I could drink down all of him, but I stop.
- We’re lying parallel on the bed, both breathing. Both warm
- and smiling and any troubles are a million light-years away. Then
- the mood cools and congeals into something sticky. We both
- startle and jump up, like we’ve just been caught in the bathroom.
- I’ve got my jacket on.
- “Also…” I say. “I need…”
- He opens a wallet with Spider-Man on it, and hands me
- his last ten spot. It breaks my heart, even more than the blood,
- because what the hell else could I possibly take from him?
- “This is the last time,” I say. It’s such a pretty lie. I jump
- up on the windowsill, the air feels good and I need to get
- outside. I don’t turn back. “Tell mom and dad I said hi.”
Advertisement
Add Comment
Please, Sign In to add comment
Advertisement