A MOMENT
The only extraordinary thing about the day was the weather. 70 degrees in November
proved to be just a subtle grace before winter's cold kiss and I awoke, as I had a hundred
times before, with eyes which assumed they'd go on repeated as they had before.
Uneventful and un-extraordinary, I ordered coffee for the two of us while my boyfriend was
away. The guy behind the counter was pale, mid 20's, and filled his clothing well. He
asked me what I wanted in the most basic of ways and yet, it was not so much his words as
his manner which gave me pause: his eyes looked directly at mine, as if daring me to
engage him; his mouth, smiling, seemed available to my imagination. He made me
self-conscious. Handing me two drinks, I took the cups from him and felt his hands brush
against mine. In an instant, I forsaw his body sticky with the night's sweat. I saw his neck
in my mouth, my kisses entirely corrupted. His feet curling with pleasure, I can feel him
tense with excitement, his cock a rock like limestone. Though it only lasted a second, it
saw what I might be made to be and I walked away from it swiftly.
The only extraordinary thing about the day was the weather. 70 degrees in November
proved to be just a subtle grace before winter's cold kiss and I awoke, as I had a hundred
times before, with eyes which assumed they'd go on repeated as they had before.
Uneventful and un-extraordinary, I ordered coffee for the two of us while my boyfriend was
away. The guy behind the counter was pale, mid 20's, and filled his clothing well. He
asked me what I wanted in the most basic of ways and yet, it was not so much his words as
his manner which gave me pause: his eyes looked directly at mine, as if daring me to
engage him; his mouth, smiling, seemed available to my imagination. He made me
self-conscious. Handing me two drinks, I took the cups from him and felt his hands brush
against mine. In an instant, I forsaw his body sticky with the night's sweat. I saw his neck
in my mouth, my kisses entirely corrupted. His feet curling with pleasure, I can feel him
tense with excitement, his cock a rock like limestone. Though it only lasted a second, it
saw what I might be made to be and I walked away from it swiftly.
HENRY, I THINK
I didn't want to go out that night. I'd just put in nine hours at a job I hated, where I copied and faxed papers for assholes
too dumb to push the big green button or too cheap to buy a fax machine. Either way, I hated them or at least was
irritated all day by them and wanted to lay down and go to sleep once home; it hit me, as I sat on the couch staring myself
into unconsciousness with the t.v. that on a Saturday night at 11:00 p.m. that I was a 22 year old picture of the pathetic.
ethanol-inspired drinks, I ran into "friends" (those bar souls you only see so friendly at bars but whom you know nothing
about otherwise) who preceded to tell me about something inconsequential but amusing. "I know I may be young," so
the pop princess turned mental case began and in spite of myself I was on the dancefloor soon enough, pretending that
the guys in the bar were as hot as the ones in princess' video.
I love to dance, especially when the music is loud and my back covered in sweat. Britney's song segued into something
much harder and I remained on the floor, in that booze-induced trance which makes everyone seem friendly or at least
funnier than they are in sober life. As I shook my ass I noticed him looking at me: 6'4", beefy, shaved head, white, the
kind of guy who looked like he could break your neck if that was your thing. Here was the kind of guy I jacked off too in
videos at home, the kind of guy who by virtue of his physicality made me think he'd only so much as remain a fantasy for
me. I watched him watching me out of the corner of my eye, watched him watching my body move and oh so discreetly
getting nearer and nearer to me. I felt nervous and didn't dare say anything to him and in fact, in my obstinacy,
pretended not to notice him. Luckily, our bodies are most times more honest than we and my cock, semi-erect, found
itself in close proximity to his own. With the change of a minute we were dancing together and I could tell from the way
that he moved that he knew how to fuck. He didn't pull away when I tugged on his black leather belt and in fact smiled as
though that was what he really wanted. His blue eyes were hungry as said, as big as he was, that I could fuck him if I so
wished it. I left the dancefloor soon and he followed me.
He was visiting, or so he said, for the weekend and as I found myself in his hotel room I both admonished myself for
being so easy and thanked my body for being more casual than my mind. He buried his face in my sweaty crotch, my
cartoon undies wet with perspiration. "Can I keep these," he asked as he pulled them off of me. "Perhaps, if you act
right," I said as he looked at me smiling. He stood before me then, his dick as large and hard as I expected it would be,
and for a moment I felt nervous at the thought that he'd try to fuck me with it. He picked me up and violently pressed his
mouth against mine before setting me down on the bed and with my feet in the air, rimming my ass. "You like that, I can
tell," he said as he alternated between licking my ass and sucking my cock. He then sat me up and immediately put his
dick in my mouth: I could barely put my mouth around it and this seemed to flatter his ego and excite him more. He then
lay on the bed and asked me to get on his cock. I was surprised by his lack of hesitation and more so by my own
willingness to ride with an ass that hadn't been topped in many months. As he entered me I felt a burning in my anus, felt
as though I were being split in two and as he fucked me cowgirl, then doggy, then standing, then on my back, my pain
turned to something approximating pleasure. As he fucked me I felt my balls tense up and the cum rip out of my dick
and onto the bed. Though he didn't last hours it felt like it did and as he came on my chest, his cum spilling out in wild
torrents on my hairy chest, I felt as though if I didn't fuck anyone else for a long time, that would be alright. After climaxing
we lay there, breathing deep and with fatigue. He told me that he was a construction worker and a dad and lived on a
small piece of land out in the country. I told him how nice it sounded and he responded by saying that he'd show it to me
sometime, if I wished. Sleep came before I could reply.
As I awoke I started to grab for my underwear. In the easy morning light, he said "No I meant what I said, I really want to
keep them." I laughed and assured him I'd leave them there and dressed. I kissed him before I left and he said he
wanted to see me again but I felt it was more rhetoric than anything and simply laughed and thanked him for a nice night.
As I walked to my car, passing the families having breakfast and wearing last night's clothes I tried to remember his
name. I wonder if he remembered mine. The sun was brutal and bright.
I think his name was Henry.
I didn't want to go out that night. I'd just put in nine hours at a job I hated, where I copied and faxed papers for assholes
too dumb to push the big green button or too cheap to buy a fax machine. Either way, I hated them or at least was
irritated all day by them and wanted to lay down and go to sleep once home; it hit me, as I sat on the couch staring myself
into unconsciousness with the t.v. that on a Saturday night at 11:00 p.m. that I was a 22 year old picture of the pathetic.
ethanol-inspired drinks, I ran into "friends" (those bar souls you only see so friendly at bars but whom you know nothing
about otherwise) who preceded to tell me about something inconsequential but amusing. "I know I may be young," so
the pop princess turned mental case began and in spite of myself I was on the dancefloor soon enough, pretending that
the guys in the bar were as hot as the ones in princess' video.
I love to dance, especially when the music is loud and my back covered in sweat. Britney's song segued into something
much harder and I remained on the floor, in that booze-induced trance which makes everyone seem friendly or at least
funnier than they are in sober life. As I shook my ass I noticed him looking at me: 6'4", beefy, shaved head, white, the
kind of guy who looked like he could break your neck if that was your thing. Here was the kind of guy I jacked off too in
videos at home, the kind of guy who by virtue of his physicality made me think he'd only so much as remain a fantasy for
me. I watched him watching me out of the corner of my eye, watched him watching my body move and oh so discreetly
getting nearer and nearer to me. I felt nervous and didn't dare say anything to him and in fact, in my obstinacy,
pretended not to notice him. Luckily, our bodies are most times more honest than we and my cock, semi-erect, found
itself in close proximity to his own. With the change of a minute we were dancing together and I could tell from the way
that he moved that he knew how to fuck. He didn't pull away when I tugged on his black leather belt and in fact smiled as
though that was what he really wanted. His blue eyes were hungry as said, as big as he was, that I could fuck him if I so
wished it. I left the dancefloor soon and he followed me.
He was visiting, or so he said, for the weekend and as I found myself in his hotel room I both admonished myself for
being so easy and thanked my body for being more casual than my mind. He buried his face in my sweaty crotch, my
cartoon undies wet with perspiration. "Can I keep these," he asked as he pulled them off of me. "Perhaps, if you act
right," I said as he looked at me smiling. He stood before me then, his dick as large and hard as I expected it would be,
and for a moment I felt nervous at the thought that he'd try to fuck me with it. He picked me up and violently pressed his
mouth against mine before setting me down on the bed and with my feet in the air, rimming my ass. "You like that, I can
tell," he said as he alternated between licking my ass and sucking my cock. He then sat me up and immediately put his
dick in my mouth: I could barely put my mouth around it and this seemed to flatter his ego and excite him more. He then
lay on the bed and asked me to get on his cock. I was surprised by his lack of hesitation and more so by my own
willingness to ride with an ass that hadn't been topped in many months. As he entered me I felt a burning in my anus, felt
as though I were being split in two and as he fucked me cowgirl, then doggy, then standing, then on my back, my pain
turned to something approximating pleasure. As he fucked me I felt my balls tense up and the cum rip out of my dick
and onto the bed. Though he didn't last hours it felt like it did and as he came on my chest, his cum spilling out in wild
torrents on my hairy chest, I felt as though if I didn't fuck anyone else for a long time, that would be alright. After climaxing
we lay there, breathing deep and with fatigue. He told me that he was a construction worker and a dad and lived on a
small piece of land out in the country. I told him how nice it sounded and he responded by saying that he'd show it to me
sometime, if I wished. Sleep came before I could reply.
As I awoke I started to grab for my underwear. In the easy morning light, he said "No I meant what I said, I really want to
keep them." I laughed and assured him I'd leave them there and dressed. I kissed him before I left and he said he
wanted to see me again but I felt it was more rhetoric than anything and simply laughed and thanked him for a nice night.
As I walked to my car, passing the families having breakfast and wearing last night's clothes I tried to remember his
name. I wonder if he remembered mine. The sun was brutal and bright.
I think his name was Henry.
