Thursday, January 31, 2008
5:38 PM |
Excerpt From a New-ish Story
We were going fast. I went back under the blanket, the edges of which were flapping in the wind that snapped through the car’s interiors. The cold didn’t matter anymore—but we were careful with our little noises, and I hoped, with a dash of unthinking abandon, that the purring of the engine and the crunch of the wheel upon gravel road outside could drown whatever noise it was we were making.
The ferocity of my sudden decisiveness must have surprised even him. I, too, marveled at the impulsive knowledge, screaming out of nowhere, of where my hand and my mouth could go—and what they could do. “Ugh,” Randy whimpered—but it must have been new for him as well. How many nights have I imagined something like this? My fourteen-year old brain had always been capable of kinetic imaginations, but this was suddenly it—and in the split second when I both nipped at his left nipple, and felt for his muscled entrance that throbbed with both anticipation and fear, the thought came to me that all it took, really, was surrender.
“What are you doing?” Randy hissed softly at me, even as his hands pushed my head down harder, where my teeth could do ravage to his nipple, my tongue on his chest. He smelled of bottled heat, and I did not say anything. His sphincter, too, throbbed—and that was all the invitation I needed. Remembering all this, I think now I must have been clumsy, and it must have been quite uncomfortable—our little bodies thrashing together in the claustrophobic space of the Sakbayan’s black-upholstered backseat.
Labels: fiction, writing
 This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
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