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The second the words are out I regret it. It’s my ‘sex’ drawer. Boxes of condoms, lube, baby oil, tissues, and porn. Yes, Porn.
I hear her open the drawer then chuckle a little.
“What?” I say, trying to hide my embarrassment, “I’m a guy.”
Next thing I know, she’s sitting on my ass and rubbing oil into my back, her tiny hands kneading my aching muscles.
“Jake?”
“Mmmm.” My face is smeared into the pillow and her hands feel amazing.
“Um, I hope I’m not like… cramping your style by being here.”
I chuckle under my breath but my body shakes and she feels it. I hope she doesn’t feel that I’ve got a semi because she’s touching me. “I don’t think anyone could be ‘cramping my style’ unless we rewound time back to 2002.”
She playfully smacks me on the back. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t actually.”
“Well, I mean, I know there’s no shortage of girls that are uhh… willing… to partake in certain activities with… with you.” She clears her throat. “I just don’t want you to think… I mean I know how uncool it would be to invite a girl back here and somehow make that sofa work.”
“Kayla, I don’t bring girls home, if that’s what you’re getting at. So no, you’re not ‘cramping my style’ by being here. I mean, my parents aren’t dumb, they know I have sex, or have had sex, I should say. I guess it’s just an unspoken rule, you know, with Julie down the hall and all. I respect them enough to not do that under their roof.”
The room’s silent for a while.
She’s still sitting with her parts right on my ass, legs spread and hands working magic on me.
She is good at this.
It’s almost a whisper when she asks, “What um, what do you mean you have had sex, you mean you’re not doing it anymore? I mean… often?”
I cant believe she wants to talk about this now.
I can’t handle where her ass is positioned on me, where her hands are touching… and she wants to talk about sex.
My junk is standing at full attention now, I could flip over and we’d be grinding on each other.
Fuck, if I think about this for a second longer I’m gonna come in my pants like I’m 13.
“So…?” She won’t give up.
“You’re gonna think I’m an asshole.” I try to lighten the mood.
“I already think you’re an asshole.”
“Ha Ha.” I deadpan.
“Well…?”
“Okay okay, well, as you know I lived in Australia up until I was 14. I started high school here half way through freshman year. When I got here I was the new kid with the accent and word already got around that I was kinda good at baseball, which apparently was something girls were interested in. I don’t really know. Anyway, once I joined the team a lot of the older guys kinda took me under their wing, there was a stage where it was parties and alcohol most weekends, then girls added to that mix. I couldn’t even tell you what my first experience was like. She was older, like 17 or something. I guess she just wanted the honor of deflowering me.” I laugh and shake my head at the thought. “I sound like a dick, but it’s the truth. Then there were other girls and other parties. My parents kinda got fed up with it after a year or so. They sat me down and told me that they didn’t move all the way back here so I could ‘booze up and slut around every weekend.’ Their words, not mine. They said that we moved so I could focus on baseball and that was what I should be doing. If I wanted to keep doing what I was doing, we could have stayed in Australia, and Dad would be earning triple what he’s earning now. I guess that kinda hit home and I had to really think about what I was doing with my life.” I stop to make sure she’s listening. Her hands are still moving up and down my back, focusing on areas she can tell are tight. I continue, “I cleaned myself up after that. Now baseball comes first. I’m not gonna lie to you Kayla, it doesn't mean that there haven’t been any girls since that conversation with them.”
Silence.
Followed by more silence.
Then she asks, “Have you ever been in love?”
“I don’t know, maybe.” Yes. With you.
“Did the girls you were with ever expect more from you?”
“No, we were always clear about our intentions before anything happened. At the beginning, there may have been a few that thought they could make themselves the one, but I was never ready for that.”
“Did you enjoy it? Sex I mean, as in, in general?”
“Well, yeah, I’m a guy. We don’t need much to enjoy it, any hole’s a goal — Fuck, that sounded a lot less pig-ish in my head.”
She chuckles, hands still massaging my back.
“I think I must have really sucked at it. I mean, if what you say is right, I should have been enjoyable right? Like, it doesn’t take much for a guy to enjoy the experience. I wonder why he had to get it from someone else… shit, I must’ve been so horrible at it.”
I feel like an asshole. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, it’s okay,” she cuts me off.
I want to turn around and see her face, to see what emotion she’s hiding behind her words.
“The worst thing is…” he continues. “He never, not once, gave me an orgasm.”
