Chapter 6 Evan #2
The contact of his bare thighs against mine sends a shiver down my spine and then his big clammy hands are on my hips, his breath loud and hot on the back of my neck. I don’t know if I’m disgusted or turned on. A bit of both, I guess. As always.
I hear him pop a tube.
“Condom,” I say.
“Of course,” he grumbles with a laugh. “I’m not gonna bareback some kid I found online in the back of my car, that’s just asking for trouble.”
Kid?
“I’m twenty.”
“Figure of speech. Ready?”
“Yeah.”
His fingers are warm and slick as he slides them between my cheeks. I close my eyes and try to relax. Think about the moment when he makes me forget. When my head will be so consumed with his cock in my ass, I won’t be able to think about anything else.
He presses against my back so I bend forward and slides his fingers deep inside me. I groan.
“That’s it,” he says, breathing heavy.
I don’t give a fuck what he thinks of me. That’s why I choose these guys. I’m never gonna see them again. If I do, they’ll be with their wives and be more ashamed than I am. Or they’ll be too shy to talk to me, knowing I’m too young for them. That it’s never gonna happen again.
I hear him put the condom on but still twist around to check.
He lines his cock up with my hole and starts edging in. I’m turned on enough now to relax and he gets halfway in and I start stroking my cock so I don’t lose my hard-on when he pushes all the way in the first time and I feel that initial sting.
He bottoms out and fuck. There it is. The memory eraser.
No more feelings. Nothing. Just fireworks going off in my head.
Steamed over windows. A stranger’s breath on my neck and his hands gripping against my hips as he fucks me into the backseat.
I don’t listen to what he says. Some people are talkers, others are completely silent until they come.
But I’m not thinking about him. I’m not thinking. That’s the point.
Sometimes they think they want you to respond, but they don’t. They’re not thinking about you either. You’re just a hole to fuck. A pound of flesh that feels good to stick their dick in. Nothing more. The second it’s over, you’ll be less than worthless to them.
He speeds up, grunts getting louder and less sporadic, his hands holding on tighter to my hips.
I stroke myself faster, wanting to come before he finishes.
They very rarely wanna touch you once they’ve finished.
And blow jobs are awkward in the back of cars, even SUVs.
I didn’t come here for a shitty hand job I could have done better myself.
His beard brushes the back of my neck, his warm breath on my skin as he mutters to himself.
I pump my fist hard and fast around my dick until I feel myself coming.
My muscles contracting around his cock. He starts spasming behind me, slapping my ass and calling out something I can’t catch and couldn’t give less of a shit about, because my world has gone still.
I’m floating between reality and something else.
He snaps the condom off and zips up. When he opens his door, the night air rushes in and cools the sweat on my skin. I sit back and pull my pants back up, feeling the lube wet the seat of my boxers.
We sit in silence as he drives me back to where he picked me up. Putting the heaters back on to get the steam off the windows. Sweat drips down my arms from my pits and I watch his sweaty hands on the steering wheel as he drives. The wedding band glistening and the smell of sex in the air.
When he stops, he doesn’t look at me. I stopped existing to him the second he blew his load inside that condom.
I’m about to climb out of the car, when he tells me to wait.
He digs into his pocket for something, finding a wallet and fishing out a few bills.
My stomach churns. Is he really gonna pay me for sex?
I open my mouth to tell him I’m not a fucking whore.
But then I see the two fifties on the dashboard.
Think about that cash I had to replace with my own money because the guys dipped into my supply.
This would cover it and then some. My stomach drops and I’m grateful this asshole is looking anywhere but at me as I take it.
My ma’s awake when I get home. I try to avoid her and go straight up to my room, but she catches me and asks me to come back downstairs.
I’m desperate to clean this lube out of my ass and this man’s sweat off my skin.
I don’t want her to know what I did. What I’ve done over and over with so many men I’ve lost count.
I don’t want her to stop looking at me like I’m still that innocent kid who would have never imagined himself doing the things I do now.
This guy wasn’t the first to offer me money.
But he’s the first one to catch me desperate enough to accept.
“Where have you been out this late?” She has her hands on her hips at the counter. I’m not in the mood for one of her lectures. It’s a little late for it now.
I open the fridge and look for the juice to distract myself and cool my face down.
“Evan, look at me while I’m talking to you.”
“What?” I snap. I try to look away, but she grabs my face and turns it towards her.
“Talk to me. Why are you so angry?”
I can’t look her in the eye. I don’t want her to look at me. I don’t want her to touch me. Tears sting the back of my eyes.
“Evan,” she says, her voice soft as she pulls me in for a hug. I think she’s gonna smell him on me. Smell the sex—lube and sweat and some married man’s cum. I push her away and she bumps into the counter. We stare at each other for a second and I’m not sure who’s more surprised.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” I say finally. “Just, please, don’t touch me.”
“Okay.” She holds her hands up, fixes her hair. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
I slam the fridge door and run upstairs.