"WOULD IT BE UNREASONABLE FOR ME TO SAY that your pussy has the exact shape, tightness, and warmth that…" He stops and tries to think of a unique way to say it, "takes me off?" He finishes and smiles silently in the dark.
She doesn’t know quite how to answer and pauses, looking up at the ceiling. For the second day in a row he can’t hold anything inside, squirts it limp like a 16 year old vomiting off his old man’s whiskey stash. He doesn’t care, is the thing. He just doesn’t give a fuck. She doesn’t really either.
She’s disappointed. She wants this guy to give her a good ride. The first night, camping in the wilderness, he had a little more booze and it worked for a moment, probably 100 seconds... Sober for the next two rumps and there was nothing staying. Tonight it’s a clumsy attempt to enter and then in. One two, push in a third and out it comes.
“Fuck.” Is what he said the first time.
“What?” She answered, perhaps something wrong with the condom.
Their relationship inaugurated as follows: girl likes guy for one month and on one drunk occasion attempts to throw herself at him. Guy, who is coincidentally her co-worker, refuses advances but refuses every so lightly to ensure girl continues advances, which she does. Weeks later, when incident is almost forgotten, girl has party for holiday and speaks her troubled mind. I like you. She says. I like you too. You’re great to work with. The best. Sure. Sure. I’m leaving in two weeks. Girl says and guy is a little sad to lose friend. Eh, what the hell, they both think and that night they sleep side by side. Cautiously. He taking her shirt off and stroking her unmanaged hair; never to encounter it directly. She yanking on his dick for a time and he thinking, what the hell, I could do this better myself.
They fall asleep and wake the next day. Again shrugging their shoulders. Girl happy with herself for seducing man. Guy ambivalent, she’ll be gone in a couple anyway, he rationalizes. He’d never do it if that was different.
Next was the trip together with a mutual friend to a nearby national park in winter temperatures where they huddle together under the influence of thick stouts bought as the highway dipped out of Utah and into Arizona before returning to Utah again –the land of reduced beer quality and potency. Also the land of idiots breeding like rabbits and shitting on the desert with whatever means they have. It’s a shame, the two of them and the likes of them think. About the locals.
“No.” She answers to his strange declaration / question. “I guess it wouldn’t be strange.” She says a little confused as to what she answered. It wouldn’t be strange to ask the question or for her vagina to be the perfect shape for him to have no control. It would be strange, though, she thinks.
They stay in silence, him staring at the ceiling and her at him. In the dark. It’s two in the morning and they’re at her house.
BOOKS: Lupa and Lamb by Susan Hawthorne:
by Donna Snyder
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