Sunday, 13 June 2010
When we first met, he said he'd take me home. We sat in the car in the dark and i watched him smoke. There were songs playing softly on the radio. They made me want to swim naked in a moon-drenched sea. His eyes were dark and shielded. He put his hand on my thigh and rubbed up and down. He unzipped my jeans and shoved his hand in my boxers. I held my breath. He asked something and i lied. He wanked me. It was better because if we talked instead of doing this i wouldn't know what to say. Silence makes me uneasy, and people shut down when i don't speak. I came in his hand. He withdrew it. I sighed inwardly, it was over, that was it. He brought his fingers to my mouth. He said, "open up". I opened up. I licked my cum of his sticky fingers. They tasted of salt and dust and a tinge of metal, perhaps from the guitar. My cum tasted like my cum. He kissed me, then he took me home. I still didn't know what to say, so I just hummed along to the music. He asked me again. I lied again. We said goodnight, and I waved through the window. I still couldn't see his eyes. Like in the movies, something was deliberately hiding them.