rough fucking

copyright ©2009 by A_Satori. All rights reserved.



[Author's note: This story is Part 2 of A Prison Break, which I recommend be read prior to the story below.]



[Acknowledgments: My thanks to Andrea4328 for her editorial input and especially her tutelage on comma splices in compound sentences, although some of it may have fallen on deaf ears. Her work on this story is greatly appreciated. Any mistakes remaining in the text are mine alone.]


****************I placed a doubled paper towel on the countertop to put the newly washed glasses on, there wasn’t any room in the high pile of dishes draining in the other sink. I bit the bullet and separated the previous washed glasses from the big pile, put those on the paper towel, then stuck in the newly washed dishes in the drainer. I looked at the clock. 7:58AM. I figured I needed to get some fuckin’ clothes on.



I quietly walked to the master bedroom and peeked inside. Lana had rolled over to face the opposite wall. I silently walked in, picked up my jeans, underwear, and T shirt, then went to the living room, pulled the damp towel off, and got dressed. There were a few small semen stains in my briefs. There had been semen leaks in all my fuckin’ underwear the entire previous week from either watching Lana’s tease shows or thinking about Lana’s tease shows. I picked up the towel and tossed it on top of the washer in the mud room.



I put more ice in my water glass and refilled it. I thought about making coffee but my stomach wasn’t feeling very well and I was too thirsty to drink coffee. I lit another smoke. I wondered how long Lana was going to sleep. I had to get my shit together. What the hell was I going to say to her? I sat at the kitchen table.



Well, I couldn’t fuck her again. It was wrong for a hundred reasons, a few vying for the top of the list. I didn’t want Barb to know for good, and for some selfish reasons. It would devastate her, emotionally it would kill her. She hadn’t done very well those first couple months drying out. Those visitations had been afternoons from hell. Would she off herself if she found out? My gut tightened yet again. I knew that answer was “yes,” at least a good possibility. How could I have fucked up so badly? Did I want to leave Barb? Did I want to divorce her? To have her divorce me? Can prisoners divorce their spouses? Locked up in prison, she’d be in utter despair if she found out I had fucked Lana, especially if she knew I had freakin’ paid Lana.



Jeezuz. Barb might reach some crazy conclusion that cutting off Lana’s allowance was my way of getting Lana to fuck me for money! Oh shit. Would she think that? I hadn’t done that! Yeah, I’ve been thinking about fucking her, especially the last week or so, but yesterday I was fuckin’ praying she would be out before I got home last night! I didn’t plan any of it, she did! She had the whole fuckin’ thing planned out!



It suddenly felt like the wind got knocked out of me. Last Sunday, going to that goddamn truckstop con whorehouse… that’s when she started planning it all. We talked about that one whore last night. Shit! Why the fuck did I stop there?! Did I subconsciously go there on purpose for her? So she’d see those prosties? Did I hope she’d get the idea?



I stared out the window over the sink and considered it. NO! I didn’t think anything like that! Did I? NO! I had a taste for that fuckin’ chicken and I didn’t want to go to some fast food joint she might have liked. That’s why I stopped there. How could I have ever thought seeing a few whores would make her jump to the conclusion that she should offer me sex for money?! I may stretch possibilities sometimes, but that would have been a fuckin’ colossal intellectual leap of fantasy, even if it was subconscious. Fuck subconscious! What the fuck does subconscious have to do with any fucking thing! If it was subconscious, I wouldn’t fucking know it, and I sure as hell didn’t think it consciously!



Why should I feel any of this is my fuckin’ fault?! What the fuck does Barb expect me to do for three to five fuckin’ years?! Become a priest?! The knot in my gut tightened yet again when I recalled thinking something like that last night. I pushed the thought from my mind.



Lana is the one who fuckin’ propositioned me. She’s fucking eighteen, that’s legal age in this fuckin’ state, in EVERY fuckin’ state. She fuckin’ teased me for three, four days! Like any whore on a street corner, hell, MORE than street walkers! She had the whole thing planned! She preyed on me, not the other fuckin’ way round! She knew I was horny and she made me even hornier, insane fuckin’ horny! She knew I was drunk, she knows I fuckin’ get half smashed nearly every evening some weeks, and she fucking goddamn well knows I don’t give a shit about anything sometimes when I’m half in the bag. She must have noticed that in all my fuckin’ arguments with Barb! She played me like she was a fuckin’ whore! Just like a fuckin’ whore!



I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I crushed the butt in the ashtray, then swept the ash that had fallen on the table top off the edge. If it was her fault, why the hell was I so fucking full of guilt about it? Because I was a weak fucking asshole, a drunk, and now a cheating fucking prick of a husband? I had vowed to myself that I would never… NEVER do that to Barb, even though I guess I thought she might do it to me. I had promised myself I’d divorce her before I ever cheated on her. If I couldn’t do that, then the broad wasn’t worth fucking.



Shit. Fucking shit.



I buried my throbbing head in my hands then rubbed my face and skull. Why couldn’t I just stop fucking drinking? Some days I didn’t drink at all, other days I’d plan to have one or two beers but then I’d drink an eighteen pack. Why couldn’t I just fucking quit?



It was my safety valve, that’s why. It was a way to release the pressure. And I didn’t do crazy shit every time I got wasted. Barb liked me drunk, she always said I was so funny, and so hot after I had a few drinks. We had fun at the bars, we had hot times in the bedroom too. Yeah, I’d wish I could recall every minute the next morning, but sometimes it was fun with Barb the following day filling in each other’s memory gaps of the night before, like hearing about some movie where you were the main character. When I was loaded, I didn’t worry about anything, I didn’t feel like some fucking shithead failure, the edges were taken off everything, for the most part.



Not always though. Sometimes it made me plain crazy or turned me into a mean son-of-a-bitch. That’s usually when I got into the fights. The next day it would scare the hell out of me sometimes recalling how I had done some crazy shit like driving the truck at 95mph, or how I made a fool of myself in some bar, or how I had really wanted to kill some asshole who had said some shit to me, or who I just thought was a fuckin’ prick. Half the fights I had been in had been me picking them. Maybe more than half.



After I met Barb, I had cooled it a little, but sometimes even Barb screaming at me to leave some bar instead of fighting, or physically trying to restrain me from duking it out with some fucking asshole in the parking lot, didn’t stop me. Once I shoved her away so hard in some bar, she fell over someone else’s table, which had the bouncer on me in a microsecond, holding me while the asshole I was about to fight, delivered a few fists to my face and gut as the bouncer dragged me to the door and pushed me outside. Barb came out and screamed at me for at least five minutes, the bouncer standing at the door watching. Then in the car, she sobbed between shouting tirades at me all the way home, telling me that if I ever shoved her like that again, she’d kick me out of the house and never have anything to do with me again.



I never planned to get drunk. No, that’s a lie. Of course I did. The thing was, I never planned to be an asshole. Yet if I was honest with myself, which sometimes I can’t manage, I probably knew or at least could feel the nights I was going to end up in a shouting match with some prick in a bar, or worse. It was usually after a lousy day, a day when I’d lose my “sober” temper during the day. Sometimes my fuckin’ goddamn anger just exploded. Half the time I didn’t even know why.



Sometimes on the days I felt it brewing, I could keep it under control, other days, it really did just explode. It would truly surprise me, like some terrorist bomb had just detonated. There was never any conscious decision to go off on some prick. Like at that truckstop with Lana. At first I really was about to throw a punch at the guy, who undoubtedly would have mopped the floor with me. I pulled back from it though. Sometimes I could pull it back, think with my brain not my gut.



Thinking with my brain. I certainly wasn’t doing that last night. I was thinking with my fuckin’ dick. Along with the ball of guilt inside, I added self-loathing. What the fuck was wrong with me? There were some days I could just have a couple beers, or no alcohol at all. Why were there other days, when I would start out thinking just a couple, and end up opening the Comfort and drinking myself into blackouts? Why don’t I know when I’m going to do that?



I thought of AA. I hated AA. I had never gotten a sponsor, never gone to the smaller touchy-feely meetings, just the large general ones. I never stayed to the end of those. I’d been going to the general meetings on and off for five years. I would get so fuckin’ depressed listening to the fuckin’ testimonies or stories or whatever you call them. I hated it because I saw my own bullshit and lack of control in every one of those assholes. I didn’t want to admit that I was like them, that I’d end up like any of those sick looking older guys. All I had to do was somehow figure out why there were those days I could not stop drinking, then when I figured that out, all I had to do is just not drink on those days. It was one of those days that Barb drove home, me passed out, the night she killed that kid on the bike. It was like one in the fuckin’ morning, why the fuck wasn’t that kid home in bed?!



Oh jeezuz. She is in prison because of me. My eyes teared for a moment.



‘If’ and ‘What if’ and ‘Why can’t I’ were the fucking chapter headings of my fucking life.



I fucked Barb’s daughter last night. I cheated on Barb with her own daughter. What’s lower than scum? I looked out the window again. I had to get my head together. What the hell was I going to say to Lana? I blinked. What the hell was she going to say to me? I thought for a minute. I had to find out if she was going to tell Barb. I had to find out if she was going to tell anyone. I was sure she said a few times last night that she wouldn’t say a word to anyone. I thought she said that. She had to have said that, right? Shit. I’ll have to ask her again.



A fresh, gut wrenching thought entered my head. Oh fuck. What if she’s now thinking about selling her body, selling it to fuckin’ high school boys? Oh jeezuz. I had to make sure she didn’t do that. How the hell was I going to do that? She doesn’t listen to me about any fuckin’ thing. Don’t become a whore, Lana. Don’t ever sell your body like that again. Sex is for people in love. It should be making love, not fucking. Yeah, like she’s going to listen to me! Especially now. I wouldn’t even believe that bullshit. She’d just laugh at me. I was her first trick, now I’m going to be giving her advice as her counselor? As her priest? Yeah, right.



I gave it more thought. Was her plan to fuck me once for money, then use it as leverage to get her allowance back? Threaten to tell Barb? But, wouldn’t Barb also be insanely angry at Lana then too? Wait. She could tell Barb I raped her. Oh shit. I had already mentioned that to Barb, and that would make Barb think that I was trying to make her believe Lana would lie before I had actually raped her daughter. Yeah… yeah, she might think that. Oh shit. Oh jeezuz. How could I have been so goddamn fucking stupid?!



Barb would tell the cops. Wait. Maybe Lana will threaten to tell the cops, extort money out of me with the threat. Blackmail. But, unless she goes in for a rape exam today, maybe even tomorrow, how could she prove it? Her word against mine? Would the cops believe me when I would say she had propped me for sex? Yeah, right.



My hands rubbed my face again. I was spinning my wheels. I had to find out what she was going to do and say. She had me over the proverbial barrel, and she goddamn knew it. Fuck. Maybe I should just give her the fucking allowance and not discuss last night at all, or… maybe tell her it was a mistake, that it would kill Barb if she found out, and that it would destroy her mother if she started hooking for high school guys or… jeezuz, just hooking for any guy. I blinked again. She could use the house during the day for fucking her johns. How the hell would I know or stop her?



I leaned back in the chair. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I was still spinning my wheels. I had to talk to her. I wouldn’t know what to say or do until I talked to her. What if she didn’t say anything to me, didn’t answer any question, just left me guessing about all of it? What could I do then? I could do… … nothing. She’s not going to listen to anything I have to say anyway. She never has, why would that change this morning? The only thing I could do is try to talk to her, try to get answers. That’s all I could do.



I can’t show fear though. I do that and she’ll have even more ‘hand’ over me. I can’t show fear. I guess my fuckin’ father was right all those years growing up. I do have my fuckin’ brains up my fuckin’ butt. What the hell is wrong with you? You got your goddamn brains up your ass?” Yeah, and fuck you too, Dad.



My fucking dad. He was a drunk too. A periodic drunk, like me, but my periods are shorter. I guess I inherited the right fucked up gene from him. He gave me the fucking anger too.



I thought about the ‘strappings.’ I didn’t think about those very often. Other kids got spanked, maybe not with a belt, but spanking was still part of parenting when I was young I guess. He never did it to my older sister, just me. From the time I was four.



A sardonic smile curved my mouth.



I never knew what I had done so wrong that deserved a whipping. What could a four year old do that would deserve a lashing? I didn’t burn the garage down, didn’t do finger paintings on my bedroom walls, didn’t break or ruin shit in the house on purpose. And if a four year old did any of those things would it validate a whipping?



Sometimes I was just slow to follow his ‘orders.’ I don’t wanna stop playin’ yet. Can I play more? On his bad days, that fell under ‘backtalk,’ or giving him ‘lip,’ and I’d hear, “I’m not taking any shit from you like that!” or, “I’ll teach you to show me some goddamn respect!” I was supposed to ‘jump’ when he told me to do something, and when I didn’t that was more than enough at four, five, six, seven, and eight to have him grab my arm and drag me to my parents’ bedroom, order me to lay on the bed. He’d remove his belt, then he’d whip my ass with it until he got his fill of my screaming and sobbing.



Other days, he would tell me he and I were best friends. “You and me, we’re buddies, right? C’mon, get your glove, let’s play some catch.” Those buddy days were usually a day or two after a whipping.



I love-hated him.



When I was seven, I figured out what his rush was about it the strappings. He wanted, needed, maybe even craved to hear me scream and cry in pain. Finally my own hate and anger gave me some backbone. One evening when I gave him ‘lip’ or somehow didn’t give him enough ‘respect,’ he gave me one of the usual lines, “I’ll teach you respect!”



He grabbed my arm and pushed me to his bedroom, shoved me onto the bed, took off his belt and started lashing away, craving to hear me crying and screaming that I was sorry and I’d be good. I clenched my jaw and kept my mouth shut. I didn’t utter a sound. My eyes welled up and tears flowed but he couldn’t see it because my face was pressing into the bedspread. He whipped my little ass harder. With each lash, my anger and hate grew, which reinforced my resolve not to make the smallest whimper. I think about halfway through he muttered something like, “You think you’re tough, huh? I’ll show you.” He whipped harder. A minute or so later, I heard my mom at the doorway. He kept that belt coming down adamantly while she spoke.



“Anton… that’s enough… Anton, stop. That’s enough. Anton! That’s enough!”



The son-of-a-bitch gave me at least four more. He then pulled the belt away and started putting it back on his pants. He was actually a little breathless, huffing air, when he said, “That’ll teach you to respect me.” He left the room.



The fucking, ignorant prick didn’t realize he and his belt just made lose respect, made my disrespect grow, and taught me to hate him even more. As I slid off the bed, Mom came up and put her arm around my shoulders. I shoved it off, told her to leave me alone. I went to my room, closed the door and lay on the bed. My ass was burning as I buried my face into the pillow trying to muffle the sound as I cried and choked with sobs. A couple minutes later Mom came in, sat on the edge of the bed, stroked my back gently, and said something like, “Just try to be good. Just do what he says right away. Okay, honey?” I didn’t answer. I hated her at that moment too.



I never cried after that or tried anything like I had when I was five, stuffing a book in the back of my pants. I think I had seen that in some really ancient cartoon very early some Saturday morning, some animal character about to be spanked, putting a book in his pants. Dad didn’t always push me to the bedroom, sometimes he’d shout at me to go there, make me wait for the strap, probably trying some psychological terror on me. It was one of those times that I stopped in my room first and got the book. It was a thin but fairly large hardcover book on butterflies. Looking back now it’s funny. Of course he saw it as soon as he walked into his bedroom, not too many kids had flat rectangular butts. He didn’t laugh. He rained that belt down on the back of my thighs that time. Probably gave me a few extra for being so fucking stupid, shoving a book in my pants.



I didn’t get whipped every day, not even every week. It was periodic, like his drinking. Maybe they both coincided. I was too young to differentiate when he was drunk and when he was sober. I never cried again during the punishments, even though the strappings got move severe. When I was eight, I won. Dad lost.



He didn’t lose to me, he lost to Mom. I think she finally realized I wasn’t even getting teary eyed anymore. I think she could see that my hate and anger grew after each strapping, just by looking at my face, just by seeing my clenched jaw and the intensity of my eyes. I also think she may have thought Dad would really injure me some day, being drunk, being even more pissed off that he couldn’t elicit a scream, or a tear, or a pleading sob from me begging him to stop.



Even at that age, I had decided I’d fuckin’ die first before I’d give that fuckin’ prick the satisfaction of hearing me cry ever again. I never heard Mom speak to him, but I was sure she told him to stop the strappings. I’m glad she finally did. I bet I’d be an even meaner son-of-a-bitch now if she hadn’t. Funny, but I never did and still don’t respect my fuckin’ ol’ man. I also know, he could have beat me a lot harder and more often than he did. I never once had to pull my pants down. Later I learned there were other kids who had it a hell of a lot worse than me, although I didn’t know that then. I guess it really wasn’t that big of a deal, although it was during those four years or so when I was little.



I was staring out the window blindly. My jaw was clenched. I relaxed it and took a slow breath. How had I gotten on that shit? Why the fuck was I thinking about the fuckin’ ol’ man now? I had bigger fuckin’ problems, real problems I had to deal with.

I looked at the clock. 8:26AM. I felt my anxiety rise, maybe it was plain fear down to my very core. It was time to start facing reality. I got up, got the bottles of ibuprofen and vitamins. I took two pills out of each bottle and put them on a saucer. I got a clean glass off the paper towel, put ice in it and filled it at the faucet. I’d leave it all on the bedside table if Lana was still asleep.



My heart was beating faster than normal and my gut was knotted as I approached my bedroom. I peered inside. Lana had moved again, but was still facing away from the door. The sheet was up to her shoulder. As I quietly stepped inside I thought I saw her leg move a little. I set the ice water and small plate of pills on the bedside table. As I picked up the glasses left from last night, I noticed her shoulder. She was wearing the mens tank shirt. I was sure she didn’t have it on earlier. I stood straight and gazed at her.



I whispered, “Lana? You awake?” She twitched slightly. I waited for a response. After ten seconds I started to turn.



“I’m… not feeling too good.”



I spoke softly, “Hangover?”



“I… I guess. Do… do you want me out of here?”



What I wanted was to erase the past twenty-four hours. “I… no… stay, but… I brought you some ice water, and some vitamin pills and a couple ibuprofen. Why don’t you take ‘em now.” She didn’t move. I still hadn’t seen her face.



“I… I don’ wanna.”



I exhaled softly. “I think you’ll feel better if you do.”



“I… I’ll take ‘em later.”



“Do you want to sleep more.”



“Um… yeah.”



“Ahh… do you want some… orange juice now?”



“Um… no… um… later.”



“Okay. I’ll… ah… let you sleep.”



I waited a moment to see if she’d say anything more, possibly ‘thanks,’ but she stayed mute. I walked out to the hall, took a couple steps away from the door, stopped and leaned against the wall. I listened for crying, a cough, a muttered swear word, I don’t know why I was listening. I heard the glass clink against the rim of the plate. A few seconds later the plate slid on the table. Another period of silence then the glass setting down again. I frowned. She couldn’t even tell me the truth about whether she was thirsty or not, was she going to tell the truth about anything? I remembered what I had said to Barb a few weeks ago: I don’t trust her.



I felt exhausted. I wished I would have slept longer. I folded my arms across my chest, holding the empty glasses with my fingers stuck inside, bowed my head and closed my eyes. I silently began chastising myself all over again.



“Oh!”



I flinched, nearly jumped. I opened my eyes, turned my head and pushed off the wall. Lana was standing in the hall less than two feet from me. Her puffy, sleepy eyes were wide and her mouth was agape. Her hands went to the hem of the tank shirt. She pulled it down a little, then one hand held the hem as her other rose to her shoulder, her arm covering most of her little tits.



“I… uh… thought you were going to sleep longer.” She looked fourteen to me again, a thoroughly embarrassed fourteen. My guilt rose yet again.



“I… I-I needed to… um… go to the bathroom.”



“There’s the master bath.” I figured the john was filthy as hell. I knew she was lying.



“I… I meant I… I was… couldn’t sleep, so… so I was going to take a shower.”



“Feeling better then?”



“Um… no, not really.”



“Did you take the pills?”



“Uh-huh.” She pulled her shirt down a bit more, then looked down to check the neckline at her tits.



“Oh… I guess I should mention, I didn’t want to wake you this morning, so I showered in the hall bath.”



She looked at my face. “You… you used my bathroom?”



I almost laughed at her ‘my.’ “Yeah.”



“Oh… um… ah… okay.” She looked really scared again. “Are… you going into your room?”



“No.”



“Where… where are you going?”



I genuinely smiled for the first time since waking, not a big smile, as I told her the truth, “I don’t know where I’m going.” It seemed like my smile made her even more nervous or scared. I glanced at her hand at the hem of her shirt. She was holding it out knowing it would make it less see through.



“Would you go somewh…. um… don’t you… don’t you wanna go into your bedroom?”



For a moment I wondered who the hell was wearing Lana’s tank shirt. Where the hell was the tough little bitch I had known. “What are you doing after your shower?”



“Huh?”



“Are you going somewhere… you know, out after your shower?”



“I… I-I-I don’t know… um… I… I don’t think so.”



“Well… obviously, we… ahh… need to talk about… about last night.” I got angry at myself for the verbal hesitance.



“I… I thought you’d say that.” Her breathing turned shallow and quick.



“So… take your shower, then we’ll talk. Okay?”



“I… I guess so.”



I gave her a limp smile. “Good.”



“I… I’m gonna take my shower.” She really seemed very nervous.



I nodded. “Okay.”



She bit her lower lip and stepped around me. As she passed, her hand lowered from her shoulder. Both hands gripped the hem of the tank shirt, holding it down a little but also pulling it back so it didn’t lay on her apple ass. My gut knotted with fear again. I wondered if she was hurt, bleeding. I tried to remember if I had fucked her ass. I remembered thumbing her asshole, but not sticking my dick in it. Dammit! I turned and went into my room. I checked the top sheet for blood stains. None. I yanked it off the bed and looked at the bottom sheet. Only cum stains. I relaxed a little.



I stripped the bed. I stepped over to the corner of the room by Barb’s dresser. There was a gap between the end of it and the corner of the room. That’s where I tossed my dirty clothes. I glanced at the dresser top. I saw the fifty dollar bill. I couldn’t believe she forgot her money. I picked out the white things from the corner pile, added it to the sheet pile, grabbed the two glasses and headed to the mud room, figuring I might as well do a load. Shit. I’d have to wait until Lana got out of the shower. It might screw up her hot water, the water heater was old, the replenish time on it sucked.



I put the glasses in the sink, then went into the mud room, put liquid detergent in the washer and loaded it. I opened the fridge and looked inside. I really wanted that orange juice. I grabbed a soda, sat at the table and took a sip. I lit a smoke, then tried to relax and figure out how to start the conversation with Lana. Even if I had been totally blitzed last night, which I hated to admit I wasn’t, at least not at the start; how in hell could I possibly have thought fucking Lana would be okay to do? Jeezuz.



Maybe… maybe we could talk about it like adults.



It was an hour and a half before I saw Lana slowly walking towards the kitchen. The girl was still surprising me. It was a warm June day, not really hot, but she was wearing a long sleeve off-white cotton jersey shirt, and those kind of running pants that had replaced most everyone’s sweat pants, the ones with the single stripe on the outside of the legs. They were pink with a white stripe. I had never seen her wear them. Her hair looked damp and she had it in a pony tail. I couldn’t recall if it had ever been in a pony tail. Something wasn’t right. Something happened last night that I can’t remember. She was scared. Maybe scared to be with me now? That’s the only reason I could come up with for the way she acted when wearing her tank shirt earlier, and now she’s fully covered up, well, she was barefoot. She flaunted her hot, little bod for a week, and now she was trying to cover it up? What the hell was going on?



I looked at her hand. She had a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush. I realized they were mine. “Oh… ah… thanks for bringing that.”



“You… you left it in my bathroom.” Lana put the things on the table near me then sat at the far end of the table. She pulled her legs up to the seat, pretzeling them.



I guess it really was her bathroom. “I… I didn’t know you did all that work, the decorating in there. It looks good.”



“Some of that stuff I um… picked up during the last town junk pick up week. The… the wire shelf thing, and… the pictures, and… that wicker stuff.”



I really wanted to ask her about that hidden photo in the linen closet. “Looks good.”



“Um… um… thanks.”



I took a slow breath. “Ahh… I guess we should talk about last night.”



“Um… yeah.” She bit her lower lip.



“Firstly, I… I hope I wasn’t too rough with you, or… or hurt you in any way. I… I was pretty drunk.”



“I’m… I’m a little sore, but… I… no, you… I guess you weren’t too rough.”



I saw her eyes tear a little. It made my gut knot tighter. “Lana… ahh… obviously, last night… ahh… shouldn’t have happened. I think we both know it was a mistake.” I held my breath.



She responded immediately. “I knew you’d say that.” Her arms folded over her chest. I realized she was wearing a bra by the depressions on her shoulders. It seemed her eyes teared more.



I hadn’t expected that response from her. “Ahh… maybe… ahh… Do you want to talk first?”



No, not really.”



It was the shit attitude again. I suddenly didn’t feel like taking all the blame. I told myself to keep my cool. “Why are you angry?”



“Am I angry?”



I again told myself to keep it level. “I don’t know if you are, but I’m getting the impression you are. I hope you remember, it was actually your idea last night.” I instantly knew I shouldn’t have said that. I quickly added, “But… that doesn’t mean I have no responsibility about it.” I took a breath. “So, are you angry about something?”



“I don’t know. I guess not. I…” She exhaled. “You…. you…” She pursed her lips and her eyes teared a little more.



“What? Tell me, or-or ask me if it’s a question. What is it?”



“Do… do you… do you remember what… what we talked about in bed before… before we went to sleep?”



My brow pinched. “What we talked about?”



“Yeah. What we talked about.”



My forehead was still tight. “I was pretty drunk, and really tired by then, Lana. Why… why don’t you refresh my memory.”



Lana turned her head, pretending to look out the kitchen window over the sink. “I knew you’d say you were too drunk to remember.” Her jaw clenched for a moment.



I felt anger start to simmer and I told myself to relax again. “Well, it happens to be the truth, and I find it a little amazing that you seem to remember it all so clearly, since we were both drinking pretty heavily, in fact I seem to recall we were matching drink for drink.” She had to have been drunker than me with that little body. I saw her bite half of her lower lip.



She didn’t look at me. “I… I guess I had a… a little less than you.”



“Wha’ d’ ya mean?”



“One of my drinks was… wasn’t whiskey, it was iced tea.”



I couldn’t stop the grin but kept it down to a small smile. She really had been acting like a freakin’ whore last night!



There was an angry edge to her voice, “Are you laughing at me?”



“No, just wishing I would have joined you on that ice tea. I… I’d probably not feel so lousy today.”



“You drink t…” She bit her lip again for a moment then looked at the sink window once more.



“I drink too much? Yeah, I do.” She didn’t say anything to that. “So… you wanna tell me what we talked about before I fell asleep.”



“I don’t know.”



“You don’t know if you want to talk about it? Or, you can’t remember now what we talked about?”



“Yeah.”



I got angry for a moment, then I just found it funny. In my past I had answered double questions with that same response. I said hell with it, and let a brief chuckle escape my mouth. “That was pretty funny.”



“I’m so glad you liked it.” The edge was still there.



I decided not to get pissed off. I pushed my chair back. “Do you want that orange juice now?”



“I don’t know. Yeah… yeah, I guess.” She started to get up.



“I got it.” I made up a glass of ice and poured the last of the OJ in it. I set it in front of her.



“Aren’t you having any?”



“Isn’t any more. I was saving that for you. I’ll have a soda.”



“Do you want this?”



I got a Coke from the fridge. “No, you drink it.” I sat down and popped the can, took a sip, then lit a cigarette. We stayed silent for a couple minutes. Lana broke it.



“You… you like really don’t remember what we talked about at… at the end?”



“I really don’t. Sorry. You wanna tell me what it was?”



“I… I don’t think it matters now. You… you already said it was a mistake.”



“Don’t you think it was a mistake?” I saw her eyes tear up again. My brow pinched. What the fuck was going on? What the hell was I missing here?



“I… I guess I should.”



“What was the… Tell me what we talked about at the end.”



“I… I don’t know. Maybe… maybe I can’t remember now.”



I wondered how in hell I had hoped a short while ago that she and I might be able to be at least somewhat adult about it all. I told myself not to lose my cool. I drew in a slow breath and exhaled it just as slowly. “I’d like to ask you something which is a little off the subject at hand. Is that all right?”



“I don’t know, is it?”



My teeth clenched for a moment, then I realized, that’s what she now wanted. She wanted to piss me off. I waited to cool down before I spoke softly, “You know for… hell, nearly three years now, if you count the time I was dating Barb, I have been wondering why the hell you and I can’t at least be civil with one another if not friends. That answer you just gave me, that tone you just gave me? I didn’t deserve that. At times you seem to want to be treated like an adult, then you do shit like that answer. I’m trying to talk to you seriously here, because… because we… we both did something serious last night, serious… on a lot of levels. So, do you want me to treat you like some ornery little girl, or do you want to be treated as a young woman. It’s your choice.” I could see that had her a little stumped.



“Why… why do we have to talk about any of it?”



“I just told you why. Last night serious things happened. And obviously, we need to clarify everything. You’re giving me the impression we talked about something important and serious last night at the end, which I do not remember. I… I want us both on the same page here. I don’t want either of us assuming that the other remembers saying this or that or agreeing to this or that, when that person may not recall any of it. So… that’s why.” I took a sip of soda, amazed how well it seemed I was speaking. “So… what was it we talked about at the end?”



“You… you just wanna know if I’m going to tell anyone, that’s all you really wanna know.”



“No, it’s not, but since you brought it up, are you going to keep it all confidential, between just you and me?” I held my breath.



She spit her words out, “I know what confidential means.”



My ire rose again. “Yeah, I assumed you did, but you know, things can be confidential between more than two people.”



Her jaw clenched and her eyes glared. She stayed silent for ten seconds, then said, “I won’t tell anyone. Happy now? I must have told you that a hundred times last night.”



I wasn’t happy but I was a little relieved. I also knew she’d have it hanging over me for the rest of my fucking life. “No, I wouldn’t call it happy. I’m glad I can trust you about it. I won’t tell anyone either.”



“I didn’t think you would.”



“I know you’re angry at me, and maybe what I’m about to say will make you even more pissed, but I have to say it and I want you to listen. Okay?”



What?”



“Last night was wrong for a l… for a few reasons. I want you to know that… ah…” I took a breath. I didn’t want to say it but I had to.



What?”



“I… I hope you know that… that making money that way is wrong, and I hope to god you never do it again. I…”



Lana broke in with a shout, “Keep your stupid money!” Her face scrinched for a moment, then she quickly wiped her eyes and calmed her face, looking down at the edge of the table.



“You’re… you’re too beautiful and… and you have your entire future ahead of you, so… so I… I had to say that about… about selling yourself.”



“Yeah, I’m SO beautiful, with… with such a great future ahead of me.”



I exhaled. “Lana, it… it can be, but… but not if your attitude doesn’t change. I think… I think I’m a good example of how you can screw up your future. From what I know, you… you haven’t made the kind of mistakes that… that I made by the time I was your age. You’ve got that going for you. I was angry like you too, and… and I still have a hard time dealing with my anger. Do… do well in college this fall. That’s when things get… start to get important and serious.”



“That’s not really college. It’s a community college.”



For some reason I asked, “Did you try for grants or student loans for other schools? Universities?” Maybe I was hoping she’d somehow be able to go off to college somewhere far away. If she went away, it would somewhat solve one of my problems.



“Not… not really.”



“Why?”



“Because… because I… I didn’t know if I wanted to go.”



“Did you apply for admission at any college or university?”



“Maybe.”



“Where? Which ones?”



She thought for a few seconds, probably about whether or not to answer me. “Champagne and DeKalb.”



I was surprised to say the least. “Did you get accepted at either?” I quickly added, “At both?”



“Yeah.”



“Which?”



“Both.”



I was dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you say anything about it?”



“What difference would it have made after her accident? And…. and you told me there wasn’t any money, and… and I figured there wasn’t any anyway. At least not… not enough for either of those schools. Not that kind of money.”



“Why in hell didn’t you tell us, tell me?”



She looked at the window. “It doesn’t matter.”



The conversation was not going at all the way I had anticipated. Why the hell didn’t she at least tell Barb about it?! “Did you write the admissions offices at both those schools and ask for a… at least a year extention on enrollment?” I had done that for grad school. I had been dumped by a girl a couple months before I was supposed to start and was getting drunk a lot. I didn’t have my shit together enough to begin a masters program. I got the extension, started a year later, then dropped out right before finals week that first semester.



“No. I don’t know. What… what is that?”



“It means you might be able to keep your enrollment status for a year. You can start next year, as… as a sophomore, or a second semester freshman, depending on what courses they accept from your community college work. You should write them as soon as possible, tell them… tell them money or something is a big problem right now. Maybe… maybe we can work something out, maybe… you can get some grant or loans. We’ll look into it. You… you should have told Barb about this, and… and me too.” For a moment I wondered if I really cared or if I was just afraid she’d tell Barb everything about last night. But, why the hell hadn’t she told Barb about this college shit?



“I knew there wasn‘t enough money. What difference would it have made?”



“You should have told me and… and like I said, maybe we can work something out. Write those letters as soon as possible. Tomorrow.”



“Maybe… maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. I don’t know.”



I couldn’t remember what the rest of what I was going to say about last night was. Why the hell didn’t she tell me about any of this? Why the hell didn’t I ask her? Barb always told me she was the only parent, that’s why. No, that’s not why. I’m just in my own fucking little world, that’s why I didn’t ask, but… would Lana have told me? No, I didn’t think she would have even if I had asked. I would never have guessed she had even applied. Hell, I was surprised she got her high school diploma!

I couldn’t remember if I got her to say she wouldn’t be crazy and try hooking out in public. I thought I had asked already. I couldn’t muster the guts to bring it up again. “Now, you want to tell me what we talked about at the end of last night?”



“There’s no point. You’ve already said in a few ways that last night was a huge mistake. So… talking about anything last night… doesn’t matter anymore.”



Something was obviously upsetting her about the end if not the entire evening. I tried to think. It was at the last, the part I just could not remember. “I don’t agree it doesn’t matter.”



“Well, I don’t agree with you not agreeing.”



I sighed. “Okay, let’s stop thinking and talking about last night for a moment. Now… would you please tell me why you hate me so much?” I figured I might as well ask.



“I… I don’t hate you.” Her eyes welled up again.



“Okay, you don’t hate me. Could you then tell me why you have the attitude towards me?” I emphasized the word for emphasis, not to be an asshole.



“Maybe it’s… it’s you who has the attitude, not me.”



I was either still in an alcoholic haze or she was living on another planet. I lit another cigarette, then sipped my soda. I tried to remember the other things I had planned to say about last night. I kept drawing a blank.



Lana finally looked at my face. “So… is this… this talk finished?”



“What do you want to say or tell me about last night?”



“Nothing. So… are we done with this talk?”



I crushed my cigarette in the ashtray and pushed my chair back. “In a second. I’ll be right back.”



Lana exhaled sharply as she stared at the center of the table.



I went to my bedroom and wasn’t sure if what I was going to do was good and right, or extremely stupid and wrong. I picked it up and returned to the kitchen. I walked up to her. She didn’t look at me, just kept staring at the center of the table. “This… this isn’t payment for last night, it’s… I don’t know what to call it. But… you should have it. I offered her the fifty dollar bill. She looked at it.



“I don’t want that!”



“All right. I’ll leave it on the dresser in my room, it’ll be there if you want it. Don’t think of it as payment for last…”



She broke in, “I DON’T WANT IT!” She shoved her chair back, got off it opposite me, and started walking quickly to her room.



I had clearly made the wrong choice. I knew she needed spending money. That’s why I was giving it to her. Or… was it a blackmail payment? Maybe it was a loose end of last night I just wanted to get rid of. Hell… I don’t know. I bet though, that if I hadn’t offered it to her, she’d have shouted a demand for her money. Why did she play me all week with the teases, then prop me last night, to just refuse the cash today? None of this shit made sense to me! I figured I should apologize to her, even though I would find that irritating as hell. I heard her bedroom door slam. Shit.



I held the bill and slowly walked down to her room. My other hand formed a fist and I raised it to knock. I froze. I heard her crying. My gut knotted once again plus that sensation that I was something lower than scum. What the hell was going on? She was the one who said ‘let’s fuck,’ not me!



I spoke softly, “Lana? Are you okay?” I knew it was a stupid question. “Open the door, let’s…”



“GO AWAY!”



I tried to think of something else to say. I had no idea what was going on with her. I was still dealing with a hangover and obviously I couldn’t handle it and her at the same time. She was upset, I had no idea of how to help her. I looked at the fifty in my hand. I turned and went to my bedroom. I put it on the dresser, then was going to lie on the bed and saw it was stripped. I went to the mud room and started the washer, then returned to the bedroom. I closed the door and lay on the mattress pad, using a bare pillow. I switched on the radio to NPR, soft volume, voices to fall asleep to. I dozed off about ten minutes later.



I awoke from a fitful sleep, sweaty, my T shirt sticking to my chest. Someone was pounding on my door. “What is it?!” I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress. For some reason I had a vision of a cop hammering on the door. A wave of fear coursed through me.



“I want my money!”




I rubbed my eyes. “It’s on the dresser. Come in and get it.”



The door flew open and banged against the doorstop. I looked up. Lana was in her short black skirt, but with white sneakers not the shitkickers, and a black T sans the rips. She grabbed the fifty off the dresser, then headed out the door.



“Where ya goin’?”



She didn’t turn around nor slow down. “Out!”



For some reason, I got really pissed and almost ran after her, but didn’t move from the bed. I muttered, “Fuck the little bitch.” My gut tightened thinking about the drive and visitation tomorrow. I lay back and fell asleep again.


* * *Her brow pinched for a moment. “Um… three.”



Without looking at the pile I reached for it. I picked a bar. “That means I get this one.” I saw her ever so slightly smile. I looked at what I picked. “Ahh… shit. It’s the Milky Way. I wanted the Snickers.” I saw Barb smile for real, then she softly giggled for a moment. For the thousandth time, I wished to god that she had never hit that goddamn kid.



Barb was still smiling but her eyes had teared. “Give me that. Take the Snickers.”



Lana finally spoke. “I want the Snickers.” She grabbed it.



For some reason, maybe it was the tension of the situation, I burst out laughing. Barb started giggling, and Lana turned her face away but as she pulled the paper off the bar, I saw her mouth curve into a tiny smile. I suddenly wondered how everything had gotten so fucked up. Barb in prison, Lana accepted at two good universities but wasn’t going, me screwing her a couple days ago. I knew it didn’t have to be this fucked up, but I didn’t have clue how to make it into what it should be, whatever that was. Or if it was even possible.



I grabbed the last candy bar. “Well… I really wanted the Payday all along.”



Barb smiled again as she chewed her first bite.



Barb and I made small talk for a while. I spoke at length, more like babbled about how the house I was working on was coming along, making some valid and some idiotic comments about the design, just to fill in the dead air.



Barb mostly asked questions during the visits. I don’t think she wanted to talk about prison life much. She looked at Lana. Her daughter was again staring at the high windows. “Honey? What have you been doing this past week?”



“Not much.”



My gut knotted yet again.



“Are you still trying to find at least a part-time job?”



“I told you, no place is hiring, at least not hiring someone like me.”



Barb glanced at me. I held her eyes. She raised her eyebrows slightly. Barb and I were married only for a year and a half before the accident, and we knew each other only four months prior to the wedding, plus she’d been in prison for the past eight, nine months, but I had been with her long enough to know that slight eyebrow rise was asking me to rethink giving Lana an allowance, and that Barb thought she should have an allowance, even if Lana was lying about applying for jobs and the job situation.



Since Saturday morning I had been wishing I had never made a big deal about the goddamn allowance because then Friday night never would have happened. A week ago I would have been pissed right now. Actually I had been. I think we talked about all this then too. Yeah, we did.



I looked at Lana. “Did you go to the places you’ve applied a second and third time yet?”



“No. Why would I do that? They said they didn’t need anyone.”



“Because it would show them you really are interested in a job and possibly someone quit between your application and your second or third visit.” I knew she hadn’t filled out any applications anywhere. It was all bullshit from her.



“They’d just call someone who had already applied to fill it.”



I spoke calmly, “No, that’s not how it works all the time. Showing your face and telling the manager your name two more times would help in either situation.”



“That’s your opinion.”



I started to get pissed. Barb reached for my forearm on the table, gave it a squeeze, and then held it. I don’t know why but as she started to speak, I almost started fucking crying. Her hand on my arm, the touch telling me not to get angry, was a little act a wife would do. She was my wife! I had fucking cheated on her with her teasing, goddamn daughter! What the fuck was wrong with me?!



“Lana, he’s right. You should do that. Did you… did you use those tokens and take the bus to the mall?”



Oh dammit. I had forgotten to get the fucking tokens for her! I cleared my throat and tried to get my shit together.



The edge was in Lana’s voice, “No. I didn’t get any tokens.”



I took a quick breath. “My fault. I forgot all about it. Sorry, Barb.” I turned my face to her daughter, the girl I paid for sex. “Sorry, Lana. I’ll give you money for the tokens when we get back to the house.”



“It’s not going to make any difference.” She took a drink of diet soda.



Barb frowned slightly. “You still need to try, honey. Get the tokens and try the mall.”



“I… I did, sort of. I went to three stores and filled out applications.”



I stopped breathing for a few moments. For the first time, I actually believed she had applied for jobs. Something… something in the tone of her voice made me believe her. Had she really applied at all those other places like she had said?



Barb said, “Well, go again and… and try some other stores while you’re there.”



Lana didn’t respond, just took another sip of soda. She set the can down, then announced, “I’m going to the bathroom.” She rose and walked away.



I looked at Barb. She gave me the ten thousand word ‘allowance’ expression again. I sighed. I figured I had to stick to my guns, just to be normal if nothing else. “Look… I don’t want to give her an allowance, especially since she never did anything for it, but…” I exhaled. “I know she needs pocket money. I’ll… I’ll maybe… make a list of chores that she can do every week and… and list the amount she’ll make doing them. Something like that.”



Barb frowned. “She’s not a child anymore. That’s like… like something you’d do with a little girl.”



I knew damn well she wasn’t a little girl anymore. “I’m not going to give her free money to just blow. She’ll have to do something for the money she gets.” I wished I had used a different word than ‘blow’ and for ‘something’ too. I saw Lana in my mind, in the tank shirt, telling me she gave ‘good beejays.’ I then hated myself even more when my dick twitched and grew a little.



Barb sighed. “All right.”



The rest of the visitation was the usual boring and somewhat tension filled time. It had been exactly what I had hoped it would be — normal. When it was time to leave, Lana at lease gave Barb a curt and limp hug. I kissed her and hugged her tightly, saying a version of what I usually did, “Don’t worry about anything, Barb.”



On the drive home, about a half hour from the prison, I twisted in my seat, then gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands. “I guess I should tell you that Barb is still pushing me to give you an allowance.” I waited a minute for her to say something. “Did you hear me?” I glanced at her profile, then looked ahead again.



“Yeah. I heard you. So?”



I took a slow breath. “I’m… I’m considering it.” She again said nothing. “I… I haven’t… I don’t have it all thought out, but… I’m thinking something like… getting paid for doing a chore, different pay for different chores over a week.”



Her voice was dripping with anger and sarcasm, “Like what? One price for fucking you, and a different price for sucking you?”



Once again, she nearly made me lose it. I’m sure my hands almost broke the steering wheel. I told myself to cool down, but it was difficult. She was the one who had brought up fucking and sucking, not me! She propped me, not the other way round! I told myself she was just a fucked up, immature teenager. I told myself to be an adult. I finally spoke, “No, I thought the chores should be something you’d be g…” I stopped speaking. I almost said it should something she would be good at. Jeezuz. I was being as immature as she was!



“Something I’d be good at? That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” Her arms folded over her chest. She looked to the side out her window.



I had screwed up once again. “No, I was going to say, something that you might actually not think was a big pain in the ass, like… well, I don’t know what yet.” I shouldn’t have made the fuckin’ slip. Shit. I took a quick breath. “Do you have thirty bucks?” I still hadn’t cashed my paycheck.



“Why?”



“I need change for a fifty.”



What?”



“I think that ten pack of bus tokens is twenty bucks. I only have a fifty dollar bill and some singles. I give you the fifty, you give me thirty back.”



She stayed silent for a minute or so. “I have it at home.”



I really didn’t give a shit if she bought the fuckin’ tokens or not with the money.


* * *I knew I was half smashed, but I had gotten a little more sober since starting to talk, so I realized I had just shot my entire verbal wad. If she didn’t respond now, she’d never do it. I’d never screw her again, and living together would just be hell for me, maybe for her too. If she stayed silent, her hate, animosity, anger towards me would just grow. It was like I was my dad and she was me, that kind of thing, yet, I hadn’t treated her like my dad had done to me.



I just didn’t get any of this. I knew she could be, maybe should be angry at me about fucking her, but she had been the one who initiated that. I had recalled since then that I had even gotten angry and told her to go and put more clothes on right before she hooked me. I took a slow breath. I decided I’d wait at her door until it was time to go to the job if need be. I’d slept on floors before. Finally I heard something.



“I… I think… I have thought a lot… about you too.”



I started holding my breath without knowing it. I waited for more but nothing came. I exhaled and started breathing again. “You have?”



“Yeah. For… for a long time.”



“What… what did you think?”



“I don’t know if… I don’t think I should tell you now. I… I thought I should last Friday, so… so I did, but…”



I interrupted, “Lana, please, jus’ tell me.” I had to wait another minute.



“At first… you know, when you first started going out with Barb, I… was surprised about you. I… I thought you were cute, and… and not an… an ass like all the other losers she’d gone out with.”



If I hadn’t been half in the bag and horny as hell I might have laughed at that line. She had inadvertently called me a loser too, maybe it wasn’t inadvertent. I actually agreed with her.



“And… and you talked to me, like really talked to me, and you didn’t treat me like some little pain in the ass, or some little girl even if I did look like one, or like I was some… some sort of negative about Barb. And… and so I liked you for that.”



She took a long audible breath. “And then, you guys got married, and… and I… and I started liking you more, and… and then I knew I liked you too much, and… and when it got to that point, it was about then that… that you stopped talking to me as often, and… I don’t know, I… I started not… not liking Mom very much. I mean, I started seeing all the things in her that I hated before, except it was worse than before. And… and then I did some really dumb things, that… that I now know I did because….”



She exhaled sharply. “I did some dumb things because… because I was… jealous, I guess, that… that she was with you all the time and… and I wasn’t. I… I wanted you to notice me more and… and I wanted to piss off Barb too. I don’t why I did some of those things, like… like that internet page. It… I wanted her to find it, and… and I wanted you to… to see it.”



I heard her start crying, not loud, but definitely crying. I spoke softly, “Lana… open the door.”



“No… no, I can’t.” She took a few quick breaths. “I… I know now it was so stupid to… to get so emotional about you, to… to think that it was… was more than like. I… I wanted you to… to look at me as if… as if I was a… a woman, but I… I was acting like a-a-a teenager, which… which is what I am. And… I don’t know, I… then started really hating… both of you… you and… and M-Mom.” She started crying again.



I was overwhelmed. My dick shrunk to totally limp over the course of her monologue. “Ahh… Lana… Lana.”



She sniffled. “What?”



“I did pay attention to you, but you pushed me away, or… or I was drunk, or trying to deal with… with all my fuckin’ problems, or with Barb, I mean we just got married, you know? But… mainly, just dealin’ with myself. I wanted to be your friend, I still wanna be your friend. I… I remember talking to you those times, early on. I enjoyed those times. I’d… I’d think about you, you know, about what we had talked about. I remember thinking you were smart, an’… an’ pretty, an’… I don’t know, I liked you. I… I never thought you were some… negative thing.



“Then… I don’t know, it all started changing. You and Barb fighting all the time, an’… and it seemed both of you were hating me half the time. You… you weren’t even civil to me sometimes, an’… an’ don’t get mad at me, but… sometimes you acted like a little bitch, and before you say it, yeah, I know, I can be a real asshole, a real bastard. I’m no fuckin’ angel or piece of cake or whatever that fuckin’ sayin’ is. I know that, but… I tried, Lana. I really tried to be your friend. At least I tried as best I could.” I heard her crying softly again. “Lana? Don’t cry, honey. What’s… what’s wrong?”



“I don’t know. I… I was remembering how… how you protected me from… from that asshole guy at the truckstop. How… how it seemed you were ready to fight for me. No… no guy ever… ever did that… f-for m-me.”



“Lana, I’d always do that for you. I’d never let anyone hurt you.” I guess I forgot about my night of lust with her.



“I… I teased you all… all last week. I-I shouldn’t have done that.”



“I know. Lana? Why… why did you do that?” I was wondering if it was for her allowance, or the fifty bucks, to just drive me nuts, or what.



“I… it’s complicated.”



“I’m not goin’ anywhere. So… tell me the complicated story.”



She sniffled. “I hafta get some tissues.”



“Okay.” A few seconds passed. I heard her sit on the other side of the door again and pull out some tissues from the box. “Do you want to open the door?”



“No. I… I couldn’t talk that way.”



“You okay?”



“Yeah, I guess.”



“So? The complicated story?”



“I was… I was really angry about the allowance, about it being cut off, and… and on that Tuesday, I just thought I’d tease you to get back at you about it, and… and I knew you had to be horny because… you know, Barb’s in prison. So I did that on Tuesday, then… then on Wednesday, I… I thought about the truckstop and… and that woman outside, and… and I needed money, and… and… don’t laugh at me.”



“What?”



“I… I wanted to… to-to hook up with you, see… see what it was like with you, and… and see if… see if you’d like me as… as much as you l-like Barb in bed.” She cried for a few seconds, then pulled out more tissues. “Maybe… maybe that was t-the main reason.”



I really started to sober up. I knew I shouldn’t say she was better than Barb, and obviously not say she was worse. “Lana?”



“What?” She blew her nose.



“You’re beautiful, hot and… and a fantastic lover.”



“You’re just saying that. It… it took you forever to cum.”



I chuckled.



“Don’t laugh at me!”



I heard her starting to stand. “Lana! Sit down. I wasn’t laughing at you. Wanna know why it took me so long?” It took her five seconds to sit down again.



“Okay. Why?”



“Guys who are drunk sometimes take longer to reach orgasm, sometimes… the alcohol makes it hard to… ahh… difficult to stay hard too, but… sometimes, it just delays orgasms. That’s… that’s why, and… and… I… I don’t know if I should tell you something else.”



“Go ahead and say it.”



I could tell she expected it to be some negative comment about her. “I was really glad it took me a long time. I… I wanted to be inside you as long as I could. You… you have a beautiful, wonderful body. You were a great lover.” I had to wait twenty seconds for a response.



“Is that the truth about…. about alcohol and orgasms, and… and the other things you said?”



“It is for me. That’s the truth. And yes, it was the truth about you too.” There was about a half minute of silence. Lana spoke again.



“I wish… I wish I wouldn’t have taken that money, but… I got so mad at you.” She started crying softly again.



“Don’t you dare think that was me paying you for Friday night. That money wasn’t for that.”



She sniffled a couple times. “Yes it was.”



“It wasn’t. You said you didn’t want that money. So I gave you other money. That’s the way I’m looking at it.”



“That’s stupid.”



Like at the prison, maybe from the tension, I chuckled. “I don’t care if it is stupid.”



There was another silence for ten or so seconds, which seemed like minutes.



She spoke softly, “I’ve… been thinking about Friday night a lot.”



“I have too. Didn’t I say that already?”



“I… I can’t remember.”



I smiled. “Isn’t that my line?”



“It has been.”



“Lana, I’ve been thinking about Friday night a lot, all the time since Saturday morning.”



“What… what are you thinking?”



“That I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did. That I hoped I didn’t hurt you in any way… like even… you know, you remembering it in the future. I… I’ve been thinking a lot about… about what it felt like to be inside you, how… how perfect that felt, and… and the last thing I remember from that night was… was thinking how perfect we fit together spooning.”



“You… you thought I was talking about a… a real spoon.”



My brow pinched for a few seconds, I blinked, then chuckled again. “You’re right. I… I thought you were eating ice cream or cereal or something.”



“I… I guess I knew you were pretty drunk.”



“Why… why did you trick me with drinking tea?”



“I didn’t want to get any drunker than I was.”



There was about a minute of silence. I broke it.



“What are you thinking about?”



“I… I don’t know. What… what are you thinking about?”



“I was wondering if it was ever going to happen again. Us being together like that.” My cock started growing again. I then thought of Barb. The growth slowed.



“I… that’s what I was wondering.”



“I… I want it to happen again, but… I-I also don’t want it to happen again, because… because of Barb.” I surprised myself by telling her the truth.



“I…” Lana stopped talking.



“What?”



“I don’t know.”



“Lana?”



“Uh-huh?”



“Do you think it will at least be possible for us to be friends.”



“I… don’t know. I guess, I… I think so. I… um…”



“What?”



“Don’t get worried, okay?”



“What?” I suddenly wondered if she was on the pill. I thought she had said she was that night.



“It might be hard being friends, because… I… it… I think I… I still like you more, than as a friend. I’ve tried not to, which… which is one of the reasons why I… I’ve been really bitchy to you, I guess, but… it… it doesn’t seem like that’s worked.”



“I think it’ll be difficult for me to only think of you in a platonic way now too.”



“I know what platonic means.”



“Lana? Why do you say shit like that? I figured you knew what it meant.”



“I… I don’t know. I… Sometimes I think, you think, I’m stupid.”



I smiled. “You know what I really think?”



“What?”



“I think sometimes I’m really stupid, and yeah, sometimes you’re really stupid too.”



“Do… do you mean last Friday?”



“Actually… I wasn’t thinking of that. I meant, in general.”



“Oh.” She waited a few seconds. “Do you think it was stupid? Friday night? I guess you do since you said it was a big mistake.”



I thought for a moment. “What you and I did, the way it made me feel, and hopefully you feel during it, that… that wasn’t stupid, but… but because of the situation, maybe it was a mistake. I mean… we’ve both been pretty upset since then, you know? Among… other reasons.”



“You mean Barb, right?”



I sighed. “Yeah.”



“Could I ask you something, like… personal?”



“Yeah, but.. maybe I won’t answer. Ask.”



“What does she expect you to do? I mean, you know, about sex? Did she say you shouldn’t hookup with anyone, even like… like a casual thing?”



“This will sound really stupid to you because it sounds extremely stupid to me right now, but… Barb and I have never discussed it. So, I assume she thinks I should stay loyal to her, which… which I should do.”



“I… I thought you might start cheating on her, but… you haven’t, have you? I… I don’t mean last Friday, I mean… before last Friday.”



“No, I haven’t messed around.”



“You… you really… love her, don’t you?”



I felt like scum once more, when I heard Lana cry for a few seconds again. She blew her nose as softly as she could. “I guess I do… most of the time, but… I guess I don’t love her enough, Lana, because last Friday, I wanted you more than I wanted to follow my marriage vows. That… that makes me one hell of a self-centered, fuckin’ asshole.”



“I bet… I bet if you were in prison, that… that she…”



I interrupted, “It doesn’t matter what she would do. It doesn’t work that way. The only thing that matters is what I do. And who really knows what she’d do? I thought I’d be able to handle it when she went in. Obviously, I was wrong.”



“I… I shouldn’t have teased you. I mean, I knew you had to be horny. I knew even I might be able to… you know, get you more horny to even hook up with me.”



“Lana, I wanted to be with you before last week, except for the… the bitchy part.” I took a quick breath. “No, I guess even with the bitchy part.” There was another pregnant pause. I heard Lana shift on the other side of the door.



She drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. “What are we… I mean… um… what are you going to d… I mean… oh… I don’t know what I mean.”



“What are we going to do about wanting to be together like last Friday?”



“Yeah… I guess… I guess that’s what I meant to say.”



“I don’t know. It feels very complicated now… more complicated now. I… I don’t want to hurt Barb, I don’t want to hurt you, I know I’m going to think about us together, us… making love, from now on though.”



“You mean… us… fucking?”



I actually smiled. “I prefer making love mixed with a healthy dose of fucking.”



“No kidding.”



I chuckled and heard Lana giggle softly. “Lana, did you have good time with me? Did I hurt you at all? I hope to god I didn’t hurt you.”



“I was sore, and… and at the start, I mean… you know, with… with your dick, it… it hurt a little but not that much, and then it felt so good, and all that.. that oral stuff you did, just… drove me crazy. I… I guess near the end it… it half hurt and half felt good, but… I didn’t want to stop. I… I liked it all.”



I smiled. “So, you really did enjoy it?”



“Yes.” She took a breath. “Did… did you like it with me?”



“Yeah, you’re a great lover, very feminine… you felt perfect and… and you give good beejay.” I chuckled softly, then instantly regretted that ending bit of humor. I began to open my mouth not sure how to correct it when Lana spoke first.



“Do… I guess you don’t remember what I told you about… about doing oral and… and hooking up, do you?”



“Ahhh… when was that?”



“At the end.”



“Sorry, but… like I said… ah… no, I don’t remember. What did you say?”



“I… I’ve only been with two other guys, like one time each, and… and I like made it seem that I did a lot of, you know, oral on guys, but I… I haven’t.”



“You’re ki…” I figured I shouldn’t say what I was about to say.



“Kidding? No. That’s the truth. I… I know Barb is… is probably a lot hotter in bed than me, and… um… I was hoping to be… you know, okay.”



“You’re a fantastic lover, Lana.”



“As… as good as her? Nevermind… I know I’m not. Dumb question.”



“She has more experience but I don’t think that necessarily makes her better. You each are unique. You’re both great lovers. I mean that, you really are, Lana. Eroticism is more than just knowing the moves, it’s… it’s deeper than that, it’s… it’s… well, someone once said the biggest sexual organ, or… maybe it was the biggest erogenous zone, was the brain. I guess it was ‘organ.’”



Lana giggled softly. “I like that. I’ll have to remember that.” There was a few moments of silence. “Could… could I ask you something that… like is not really related to what we’re talking about?”



“Yeah, like before, that doesn’t mean I’ll answer. Shoot.”



“Why do you drink so much? Why… why does Mom drink so much?”



“I want to give you an answer, but I don’t know if I can. I drink like I do, because… well, the simple answer is I’m an alcoholic.”



“So, it’s really an addiction. Do you think you’ll ever stop, that… that Barb will ever stop?”



“It’s an addiction, but… it seems more than that for me, Lana. I… I have this feeling, and I guess I’ve had it before too, that… that I think Barb can quit. I… I think I may not be good for her. And me? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to quit.”



“You and her have quit for… for weeks though. And… and neither of you get drunk every single day.”



“You don’t have to drink every day to be an alcoholic. I can’t seem to get past three weeks dry. I can’t get to that fourth week. Does… that answer your question?” I really didn’t want to talk about my drinking.



“Um… I guess.”



I could tell that wasn’t enough. “What else do you want to know about it?”



“You said it felt like more than an addiction. What did you mean by that?”



“That’s just my view of it. I know other addicts feel the same about their drug of choice, or feel similar maybe, but… drinking is where I can hide when things get too hard for me to handle. I run away to the bottle, drown my fears, my anxieties, my worries, my anger, my frustration. It feels warm and good there. Mainly, getting drunk lets me escape.”



“Escape from what? Your… um… worries?”



“Yeah, like I just said, but it’s mostly it’s an escape from… from…” Something inside was stopping me from telling her.



“Escape from what?”



I took a slow breath. “An escape from… from myself.”



“Yourself? What… um… okay.”



“Can you keep a secret, Lana?”



“I… yes.”



My eyes started welling up. “I… I hate myself, and when I get wasted, I’m not with that guy anymore, so… so there’s no one to hate. I escape from myself.”



“You… you shouldn’t hate yourself.”



I wiped my eyes and smiled. “Easier said than done, honey.”



“Does… does Barb hate herself?”



“I don’t know, Lana. I hope she doesn’t.” I took a quick breath. “Could I ask you something?”



“I guess. But… I may not answer the question.”



I chuckled. “That was funny.”



“I wanted to make you smile.”



“You did.”



“What’s the question?”



“Do you really hate your mother?” I had to wait ten seconds.



“I… maybe I’ve hated her at times. Maybe… sometimes I still do.”



“Growing up, did she spank you… punish you physically?”



“No, she usually just yelled at me, said… said I didn’t appreciate her enough, stuff like that. Once… once when I was about ten, she… she got drunk and mad, and… and hit me across the face really hard. But… that was the only time. When… when I was about eleven, she… she stopped yelling so much at me, usually when she was drunk she… she mostly cried a lot in her bedroom and… and moped around. She… I know it’s been my fault, at least some of it, but she started shouting at me again, when… um… when you came on the scene. Um… why did you ask that?”



“I hoped she hadn’t done that, and… and I wanted to know if you hated her.”



“I… I like don’t hate her, I guess.”



I smiled. “That sounded funny.”



“What? What do you mean?”



“I like don’t hate her.”



“Oh… yeah, I guess that was a queer way to say it.”



“‘Like’ has become the new ‘uh’ or ‘ah’.”



“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that before… sometime like recently.”

I chuckled again. “You’re funny. I thought you might be.” Had I really? I guess I wasn’t sure if I had or not.



“You’re funny too.”



“Lana? I don’t want things to be so screwed up. And I don’t want to screw up your life, and… I don’t wanna screw up Barb’s life more than I have already.”



“I don’t want things to be screwed up either. I can take care of myself, so don’t worry about screwing up my life.”



I wondered if that last part was true. “Lana? We can’t hurt Barb. I… I don’t know if she’d be able to deal with it if she found out about last Friday.”



“I… I know. I guess… I don’t want to hurt her either.”



“My problem is that I don’t want to hurt her, but I want to make love with you too.”



“I have the same problem.”



There was another long patch of silence. Lana broke it. “You know what else I think?”



I wondered what she was going to say. “What?”



“I think you should go to bed because it’s getting really late and you have to get up early for work.”



I knew there was nothing more to say at the moment and realized Lana knew that before me. “I guess you’re right. You should get some sleep too.” I heard her rise from the floor, so I did too.



Lana spoke softly again, “Are you still there?”



“Yeah. What is it?”



“Thanks for… coming to my door tonight.”



“I’m really glad we talked.”



“Me too. I… I really want to kiss you goodnight, but I think if I do that, I’ll… not want to let you go.”



“Lana? This is the truth… I was thinking the exact same thing.” I really had been.



“I’m glad you said that. Tomorrow are… are you going to remember us talking tonight?”



I nodded to the door. “Yeah. I’m gonna remember.



“Good.”



“Goodnight, Lana.”



“Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”



I returned to my bedroom, took a couple ibuprofen with a swig of warm beer, pulled off my shorts, got into bed, and incredibly fell asleep within minutes.


* * *”I… I wanted it to piss you off. I’m… um… sorry.”



I looked at her. I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” I rose and walked quickly to my bedroom grabbed something off the closet shelf then returned to the couch. “This is… a graduation gift I… ah… forgot to give you. It’s from me. You’ll probably think it’s dumb, but… well… here.” I handed Lana the giftwrapped books. I smiled. “But… you better toss the gift wrapping out.”



“I… I thought the other gift was really from you and Barb.”



I saw her eyes well up. “That was from your mom mostly, I guess. This one’s from me mostly.”



Lana pulled the wrapping off. “Books?”



“Yeah, I know… dumb. Barb said it would be a stupid present, but… well, I thought you might do some reading before school this fall, to… well, just do some reading. They’re… not really classics… well, maybe modern classics. There’s one that I think you should try to read sometime. It… it made me think when I was in my early college days.”



“Which one?” Lana looked at the three books.



Steppenwolfe. Herman Hesse is the author.” I took it out of her hands. “German guy, can’t recall exactly when he lived, mid 20th century I think. There’s a segment in this where… well, it’s sort of an interesting… sort of a basic and simplistic explanation of life, involving a chess game. It… it’s simple yet when I first read it, it seemed really deep, at least I thought that when I was a freshman or sophomore in college. It… it just made me think. I… well, I hoped it might make you think too.”



“I’ll read it.”



“The other two are supposed to… you know, be modern literature, not just fiction. I’ve read ‘em, they’re good novels.”



“Um… thank you.”



“You’re welcome.” My gut tensed slightly. “Oh, in that larger one, I left the receipt if you want to retu…”



Lana broke in, “I won’t be returning them.”



I wanted to ask her about returning the dress but I didn’t want to rock the boat of whatever had started today. Friendship? Neutral coexistence? Tentative steps down the path leading to hot, passionate, erotic love? She was still staring at the books. Her hand rose and her fingers wiped her eyes quickly.



“You okay, Lana?”



She wiped her eyes quickly again. She kept staring at the book. “I… I should have been here when… when she called.”



I didn’t know what to say for a couple moments. “Yeah, you should have, but I bet in the future for something similar, you will be there to take the call.” I saw her nod then wipe her eyes once more.



Lana stood. “I’m um… pretty tired. I think I’ll go to bed.” She looked at me. “Thanks again for the present, and for… dinner tonight. It… was fun.”



“It was fun. We’ll… do that more often.”



“Um… goodnight.”



“Goodnight.” I smiled and added. “Sweet dreams.” It was what she had said to me a couple times, nicely last night, and another time like a bitch.



“You too.” She glanced at the vacuum. “I’ll… finish with that tomorrow.”



“Okay.”



“Night.”



Night, Lana.”



If she had waited another moment, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from kissing her. I was glad she hadn’t dallied. I watched her walk from the room holding the books against her chest, her head bowed slightly. I wondered where the girl I was now looking at had been three years ago. I knew the problems she had with Barb weren’t pretend. There was history there. Me coming onto the scene may have just stirred it up more. For maybe the millionth time since I was fifteen, I wondered why life had to be so goddamn fucked up.



My gut tensed. All day I had been thinking so much about how Lana had acted this morning, that I had hardly given any thought to what she had said last night from behind her door. Jeezuz… did I remember everything? I promised her I would. Had she said she felt more than ‘like’ for me? She had said that. Was she trying to say she had a crush on me? She couldn’t have meant she felt ‘love’ for me, could she? Wait. She had also said she hated me too, didn’t she? Hated me and Barb because… because I didn’t pay attention to her? It was something like that. She had also said she still felt ‘more than like’ towards me. I was right this morning, everything had suddenly taken on an emotional dimension. What did I feel towards her?



My palms rubbed my face. I knew one thing I felt towards her. My cock had been half mast all evening. Was it more than sex for me? I knew it had been today. At the job today I did think about screwing her, but I also thought about taking her out to dinner tonight. I liked her this morning. I liked her last night too. I had been hoping that last Friday might somehow be a foundation, albeit an odd one, for us to build a friendship on. I wasn’t sure how that would follow, but she had been at least friendly this morning. And then doing all the cleaning, that surprised me so much, then dinner, the mall, the grocery store, I hadn’t really had time to think about what she had said last night and all the implications. I took a deep breath and sighed. Now I was too damn tired to think about it.



I turned off the TV and lamps, checked the doors were locked, then headed to my bedroom. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, took my clothes off and got into bed. I tried not to think about screwing Lana less than a week ago. I kept seeing her and what we had done in my mind. My cock was throbbing hard after ten minutes. I wanted to beat off but not to a mental porn vid of her and I fucking. I tried to think of Barb, tried to remember some really hot time with her, but Lana kept getting in the way. I tried not to think about anything. At 11:00PM I switched on the radio, volume low, tuned to NPR, listening to BBC Overnight, hoping Brit voices, speaking English I sometimes I couldn’t decipher, would lull and dull me to sleep. It didn’t work.



A few minutes before midnight, I tossed the sheet off me, turned off the radio, put on my gray jogging shorts and went to the kitchen. I was considering having a short bourbon water, medicinal, to help me sleep, but I had been sober since Saturday morning and didn’t want to break the streak. I opened the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke, popped it open, and sat at the kitchen table. I took a long drink, then set the can down. I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward so my palms could cup and hold the top of my head. I didn’t want to think about Lana. Sometimes when I held my head like that, I’d have this brief vision, maybe it was just a wish, that I could pop my head like it was a huge zit and never have to think again.



“Are you okay?”



I jerked in my chair to sitting upright. “Jeezuz… you scared the hell out’a me.” Lana was standing at the kitchen entryway.



“Sorry. Are… you okay?”



“Ahh… yeah, couldn’t sleep. What are you doing up?”



“I can’t sleep either.”



We stared at each other in the darkened house for some very long moments.



“Lana?”



“Uh-huh?”



“I can’t stop thinking about making love with you.”



“I… I can’t either.”



Even though my dick was throbbing hard, it wasn’t what made me push the chair back and stand up, nor walk over to Lana and take her in my arms, nor press my lips to hers. For some reason, I did it though. As her mouth opened wider and my tongue greeted hers, I didn’t need any voice of conscience in my mind screaming at me that I was making another huge mistake. I knew I was. I couldn’t stop myself. Maybe I didn’t want to stop myself. I wanted her. Maybe I needed her.



She was wearing the same long, large red T shirt she had this morning. She wasn’t teasing me to get me to do anything. It was all my own free will as my hands slid down her back to her perfect, seductive, apple ass. I cupped those cheeks gently, then more firmly. As she had that Friday night, she released a huff of air into my mouth when I squeezed harder but her tongue never interrupted its thrilling dance with mine, nor stop her from squirming her little body against me.



I broke the kiss. We were both already breathing heavily. I kissed the side of her neck and then pushed my face into her fragrant hair. My arms moved again, surrounding her. “Ahhh… Lana.”



She whispered breathlessly, “Please… don’t feel guilty about this. We’ll… maybe we should just take one day at a time. Not… not think about tomorrow.”



I was giving her neck kisses again. “Yeah… yes. Not worry about tomorrow.” I wanted her so much I didn’t remember that there were always tomorrows to worry about, and that for every action there were consequences. At the moment though, all I could do was think about Lana in my arms, about how much I wanted her, to make her feel so good and have her do the same for me. At the moment, I could only live in the ‘now.’



“I wanted us to do i… to make love when… when you hadn’t been drinking.”



“Me too, Lana.”



We kissed again. Our tongues even more passionate than a minute ago. It was passion not lust, at least I think there’s a difference, it at least felt different to me. One of my hands roamed down her back to her luscious bottom, firmly but gently tracing her curves, barely dipping my fingertips into her deep valley. She wasn’t wearing panties. I slowed then broke the kiss. I planted a few warm, moist caresses on her neck which she arched for me. I kissed her cheek, her temple, then my lips were at her ear.



“I want you in my bed, Lana.”



She whispered, “I want to be there too.”



My arm went around her and she leaned into me as we walked to my room. At the bed I tossed the comforter and top sheet towards the footboard. I raised her shirt over her head and off, then took my shorts off. I told her to lie down in the center of the bed. I pulled a pillow over and asked her to raise her hips. I slid the pillow under her bottom and crawled onto the bed, my torso between her legs, my legs extended over the end of the mattress. My hands slid under her bottom. I raised her slightly as my face descended to her muff. I planted kisses in her trimmed bush then stroked my face gently over her already dewy flower. I kissed her slit, then drew my tongue up between her petals to her pink pearl. I swirled my tongue over and around it.



Lana murmured, “Mmmmhhh.” Her legs folded slightly so her knees rose, her feet flat on the mattress. Her legs flexed as she pushed her pussy to my mouth.



I slid my tongue lower and wiggled it into the her moist channel. Again she pushed towards my mouth and her hips slowly swayed. My hands moved from under her and slid up her sides then onto her small pliant mounds, my thumbs stroked over her already pouting nipples. My tongue became more ardent as did Lana’s churning hips. I pushed it and pulled it back another dozen times then slid it to her turgid pearl, rubbing it firmly.



Lana murmured, “Oh… mmmh… oh gawd.” Her breathing grew more ragged. “I… I want you inside me.”



I raised my face slightly and stated kissing around her muff. “Not yet.” My tongue wiggled into her slippery, warm cunnie as deep as I could push it, then swirled it around over and over again.



“Mmmh-h-h-h,” Lana’s murmur quavered.



As my tongue worked, my thumbs and index fingers held her raspberry nubs, tugged and twisted them slightly, then my hands fondled her diminutive breasts. I slid my tongue to her clit again and rubbed it frantically.



“Oh… oh… yeah.. ye… ye… yeah… mmmhhh.” Lana’s little body started trembling. “Now… now please… I… I want you inside.”



I wanted to be inside her too but I wanted her to reach orgasm first. She pushed up more, then her hands held my head. I stroked my tongue harder and faster on her pearl, pushing it side to side sometimes, rubbing it hard, lapping at it. Her trembling grew into shaking. My tongue strokes increased speed again.



“Oh… oh.. oooooohhhhh!”



Lana stated twitching. I licked her clit a few more seconds then pushed my tongue as far as I could into her, swirling it around within her warm, buttery, tight channel. She started shaking harder, the twitches were more frequent. I rubbed her clit again. My hands left her breasts and quickly moved under her firm buns. I raised her, then slid my tongue down to her hot little hole, giving it a few swirls, then returned to her clit.



“Ohhhhh… oh oh gawd… yeah.”



Her body shuddered intensely. I hoped that was an orgasm because my tongue was exhausted. I smeared my face around her little muff. I was breathing heavily but her gasps were louder than my own.



I slid my hands up her sides again, as I worked my body up over hers. I held my weight off her with my elbows as I started a trail of kisses up her torso, lingering at her breasts, kissing her mounds and nipples, sucking them, rubbing each with my tongue. Her hands went to my shoulders as I kissed along both ridges of her collar bones, then around her neck, then her face. I raised my head and looked into her beautiful blue eyes. I asked, “Was that okay?”



She smiled, then giggled softly. I moved a little higher and felt the head of my throbbing cock touch her warm, wet slit. I slid the length of my rod through her parted, glistening labs and over her pearl. She twitched then pushed up against me again. I reversed course down her slit, then slowly up again. “Does this feel good?”



Lana nodded, “Uh-huh.”



I slowly stroked my cock against her wet pussy another half dozen times, then said, “Do you want me inside you?”



She nodded again. “Yes.”



“Guide me in.” I pushed my torso up and raised my hips a little. My fingertips combed her hair away from her pretty face while she reached between us, held my cock and moved the head to the entrance of her channel. I nudged inside. Lana’s eyes closed and her breathing tempo increased. I pushed in a fraction more. She was as tight, warm, and slippery as I recalled. Push in, pull back, push in, pull back, I worked my cock into her slightly deeper each time. Her hips started swaying again.



She whispered, “Oh god.”



“Feel good?”



“Yes. To you too?”



“You feel wonderful around me, Lana.”



It took a few more moments before I pulled back and slowly slid all the way into her. Her channel gripped around me tightly. My hips swayed so did hers.



“Oh god… you’re so big.”



“Quit saying that.”



“Huh?”



“Lana, I’m just average.”



“No you aren’t. You’re big.”



“No, I’m not.”



“Yeah, you are.” She pushed harder against me.



“No, I’m not.” I also pushed and swayed with more intensity.



“Yes, you are.”



I smiled. “Shut up.”



She giggled. “You shut up.”



At the moment I heard her soft laugh, I knew we were making love, not just fucking. I lowered my face and we kissed. Our tongues entwining like long time dance partners. I pulled back and slid into her slowly, then again and again, picking up the speed and strength with each drive of my rod. Lana did the same in a perfect counterpoint rhythm. A few minutes later I was thrusting into hard enough to hear the– smat – smat – smat… of our groins meeting. Lana’s legs folded more but her feet stayed flat on the mattress.



She spoke between gasps of breath, “Does… this… feel… good… to… you?”



“Yeah… you?”



“Uh-huh.”



“I’m not going to last very long… you… you feel too good.”



“I wanna feel you cum. I wa… do it… do it anytime.” She took a few quicker breaths and then squirmed and thrust to meet me more intensely. “Now… do it now.”



I pushed deep and churned against her. “I wanna last longer. Does… does it feel bad… are you tender or something?”



“No… I mean… it feels good… I… wanna feel you cum, and… I wanna make you feel good.”



I smiled then gave her breasts a few sucking kisses. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You are making me feel good.”



My arms slid behind her knees, folding her legs up as my torso rose and I folded my legs under me. I sat on my heels. I put her pretty little feet on my chest then rocked my cock in and back within her wet, hugging pussy. “This okay?” She nodded. I twisted my arm and hand around her thigh so I could get my thumb onto her clit. “This better?” Her eyes closed, her neck arched and pushed the back of her head into the pillow. I smiled. “Feels good to me too.”



She whispered, “Oh god.”



I moved us into a few more positions, keeping my cock within her the entire time, sometimes we laughed as she tried to follow my directions of where to move her leg or put her foot so I didn’t have to withdraw from her amazing, tight cunt. Finally we were sitting up, my back against the headboard, her back against my chest, her feet flat on my thighs close to my knees. One of my hands was stroking and playing with her taut nipples and firm, pliant feminine mounds, while two fingers of my other hand rubbed and caressed her clit. She pushed down with her feet using her legs to rise and lower while squirming wildly on my rod as I shoved up in short strokes.



Her breathing was fast and ragged as she spoke, “Oh… oh god… I’m s-so… close… cum… ohgod… cum-in-me… now… now… NOW!”



Lana started shaking almost violently, squirming her hips crazily, while driving her pussy and ass against me with force. I couldn’t hold back any longer.



“Ahh… oh jeezuz… Lana… I’m… oh… fu-uuuuck!” I jerked forward, my arm held her chest and I had to concentrate on keeping my fingers moving on her clit as my body tensed and the first shot of seed boiled up from my balls and spewed deep in her quivering channel.



“I… I feel it! Oh… ohgod!”



I grunted again, “ARRRH!” As the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth spasms traveled up my cock and spewed more of my thick spunk deep in contracting pussy. Lana’s neck arched back and she pushed her face into my neck and profile. I could hear her loud gasping breaths. She kept pushing down on me as she shook and twitched. It took us both a couple minutes to settle down.



I chuckled softly, “Jeezuz, Lana.”



“What?”



“That felt… incredible.” I kissed her neck then her cheek then her ear.



“I…” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I thought so too.”



I gave her shoulder a kiss. I was glad I wasn’t shrinking really fast. “I really like being inside you. You… feel… perfect. Perfect and delicious.” I smiled and gave her shoulder another kiss.



“Did… did I really taste okay?”



“Yeah, wonderful, clean, fresh, hot.”



“I… I can’t believe I had two orgasms again.”



I wondered if she as lying. I figured one or the other had to be faked. “Really?”



“Uh-huh.”



I didn’t push it. If she was lying it was for my benefit. I smiled. “Well, I had five.”



She giggled. “Shut up. You had one. Do… do you want me to suck you now?”



“That might have been nice, but you asked.”




“Huh?”



“I don’t like to be asked. I figure if the girl wants to, she’ll either do it, or tell me she wants to.”



“I meant it like that.. okay, it was a question, but I meant it that way. I want to.”



“It sounded like quid pro quo to me.”



“I bet you think I don’t know what that means.”



I chuckled. “I don’t care if you know or not.”



“I know what it means.”



“Dammit.”



“What?”



“You made me laugh and it made my cock shrink faster. I’m going to slip out any second.”



Her brow pinched. “Does laughing make it shrink?”



I could tell it was a serious question. “I don’t know.” I chuckled.



She exhaled sharply.



“You want something to drink? Water? Soda?” I didn’t want us to touch any booze tonight. We both flinched when I slipped out. “I’ll get us something to drink. What do you want?”



“No, I’ll go. What do you want?”



“A Coke. I think I left one on the kitchen table.”



I watched her slide off the bed, then gawked at her seductive ass as she headed to the door. Her hand cupped her pussy.

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