I’m usually with waify rocker-boys, and he’s a Geronimo. I’m a feather molding myself to his wind. He pulls open my robe and, with one hand, whips off his belt. It flies across the elevator and lands on the fleur-de-lis-printed, blood-red carpet floor. While he sucks on my neck, his pants fall off, and his boxers are gone. Heaven and counting. I feel something open and… He’s so big. Almost too big. I am startled by his size. “You want me to go slow?” he asks. We are still together for a moment again, breathing in each other’s breath. Blue, blue eyes. Warm, wet fires. “Uh, whatever you like,” I reply.
And he goes slow, then fast, then deep, then out, then all I want. We have the same rhythm – our rhythms rocking the earth – and right as he’s starting to shake and cum, I pull the elevator stop off, and we go up grabbing each other, clinging as we orgasm as one. He kisses me so soft. All over my mouth, outside my mouth. Everywhere. He carries me from the elevator to his suite.
The uppers are wearing off. Naked, hand-in-hand on his bed, we sleep. My head on his chest. Leg over him. A koala to a deep rooted tree.
Sleep.
Sleep.
So many dreams.
When I wake there is a full breakfast spread on the edge of the bed. “Boy, you sleep long,” he says as he comes over and kisses my forehead. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone so tender not wanting anything from me. So sweet, take care of me. I feel like a child. He puts some cartoons on – my favorite ones. How did he know I love the old school, 90’s, retro, MTV ones? Some fans on YouTube turned me onto Ren & Stimpy and Daria and now I download and watch them obsessively on the road.
His strong, working-man hands hand me a cup of orange juice and a lit cigarette. He pops another pillow under my back and head and lays next to me. These days, I feel like everyone I meet wants to use me for my body or for my fame, but I never know if they understand what lays underneath – except Jack, of course. But I feel Carter understands something deep in me, something hidden.
We laugh together at cartoons; he reads me some of his stories; I write poetry on his chest; we fuck; we cuddle; we do nothing; we never leave the room. I don’t even check my phone.
“Carter?” He strokes my hair so soft and slow. With so much care. No drugs. No ulterior motives.
“Yes sunshine?” His smile, oh, his smile. I believe I might believe in good again or that I could even be… good again.
“I haven’t felt this happy since when I was a kid. Right before my parents split. We had a pony with a big silk-ish bow on it. We had moved to a ranch. It was just Jack and I and the Wild West of our hearts playing however we wanted without the truths of what lives become and what becomes of love and drunkenness and bad parenting. We laughed so much then. So much.”
His lips are on mine again; he lifts me into him. I feel so small in his arms. I want to live in this dream forever. I want to believe that I can be normal and happy. But in the back of my heart, there is a tourniquet-pinch-syringe-twinge-twist as I know tomorrow I will go back on the road.
I cum. Again and again. Night. Day. He passes out. Moon and stars. The sun in the dawn. White bed spreads. White walls.
“What happens to us when this honeymoon is over?” I whisper into his sleeping ear. I can’t handle it. I don’t want to say goodbye. I can’t say goodbye. I better slip out now before he wakes up, and I don’t know what I want anymore. I worked so hard to be here. And I have to go. I kiss his forehead how he kissed mine so sweet before, put on my robe, and slip out the door.
In a few hours I’m back on the road. Silent. Crying inside. Looking through Jack’s pockets for some drugs. Please kill this feeling of not knowing who I am or what I really want.
25
It’s 3 A.M. and we’re somewhere on an open night road in Kansas, nowhere upon nowhere upon nowhere. Passing sliver moon and fields,
And he goes slow, then fast, then deep, then out, then all I want. We have the same rhythm – our rhythms rocking the earth – and right as he’s starting to shake and cum, I pull the elevator stop off, and we go up grabbing each other, clinging as we orgasm as one. He kisses me so soft. All over my mouth, outside my mouth. Everywhere. He carries me from the elevator to his suite.
The uppers are wearing off. Naked, hand-in-hand on his bed, we sleep. My head on his chest. Leg over him. A koala to a deep rooted tree.
Sleep.
Sleep.
So many dreams.
When I wake there is a full breakfast spread on the edge of the bed. “Boy, you sleep long,” he says as he comes over and kisses my forehead. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone so tender not wanting anything from me. So sweet, take care of me. I feel like a child. He puts some cartoons on – my favorite ones. How did he know I love the old school, 90’s, retro, MTV ones? Some fans on YouTube turned me onto Ren & Stimpy and Daria and now I download and watch them obsessively on the road.
His strong, working-man hands hand me a cup of orange juice and a lit cigarette. He pops another pillow under my back and head and lays next to me. These days, I feel like everyone I meet wants to use me for my body or for my fame, but I never know if they understand what lays underneath – except Jack, of course. But I feel Carter understands something deep in me, something hidden.
We laugh together at cartoons; he reads me some of his stories; I write poetry on his chest; we fuck; we cuddle; we do nothing; we never leave the room. I don’t even check my phone.
“Carter?” He strokes my hair so soft and slow. With so much care. No drugs. No ulterior motives.
“Yes sunshine?” His smile, oh, his smile. I believe I might believe in good again or that I could even be… good again.
“I haven’t felt this happy since when I was a kid. Right before my parents split. We had a pony with a big silk-ish bow on it. We had moved to a ranch. It was just Jack and I and the Wild West of our hearts playing however we wanted without the truths of what lives become and what becomes of love and drunkenness and bad parenting. We laughed so much then. So much.”
His lips are on mine again; he lifts me into him. I feel so small in his arms. I want to live in this dream forever. I want to believe that I can be normal and happy. But in the back of my heart, there is a tourniquet-pinch-syringe-twinge-twist as I know tomorrow I will go back on the road.
I cum. Again and again. Night. Day. He passes out. Moon and stars. The sun in the dawn. White bed spreads. White walls.
“What happens to us when this honeymoon is over?” I whisper into his sleeping ear. I can’t handle it. I don’t want to say goodbye. I can’t say goodbye. I better slip out now before he wakes up, and I don’t know what I want anymore. I worked so hard to be here. And I have to go. I kiss his forehead how he kissed mine so sweet before, put on my robe, and slip out the door.
In a few hours I’m back on the road. Silent. Crying inside. Looking through Jack’s pockets for some drugs. Please kill this feeling of not knowing who I am or what I really want.
25
It’s 3 A.M. and we’re somewhere on an open night road in Kansas, nowhere upon nowhere upon nowhere. Passing sliver moon and fields,
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