“I’m not going back there,” she said. “I wanted to try it, to do it while I’m young. But I’d have to be really, really horny to ever go back. I think I’m done with this shit.”
More road swept underneath us.
“Then why do it? You’re so much better than that.”
She sighed.
“To feel alive.”
Thinking back to how much I missed my depraved youth, I let her excuse stand. The generation gap…new ways to feel edgy and above the fray. Did I know her logic train? Why she did what she did? No. But it was a mix of power, lust, control, revenge, and rebellion. I left it alone.
She nodded off and fell asleep.
—
I was in my room, basking after a long, long shower. I expected her to go to sleep, but she came to the doorway. I turned on the nightstand lamp to see her standing with wet hair wearing only a towel along her bottom half.
“Plenty more hours ’till anyone gets home.”
I nodded, “Yup.”
She walked into the room, “See?” she said twirling around, “All that awfulness washed right off. Disease free, baby free. It’s my favorite part. I can go to the gutter and come out shining.”
I didn’t know if the disease part was her being naive, but she was right about the incredible change. She went from a topless, cum-covered slut back to a buoyant, radiant teen in about ten minutes. It seemed unfair. All those men trying to defile her…and they failed.
“I think I’m going to spend the money on a purse. But I don’t know if I want to look at it…I’ll think of that guy every time. Maybe I’ll save it.”
“Sarah I….” I said, thinking if I was really done with our insane adventure.
“We’re done,” she said, “I would prefer to keep going….but I don’t think we can. I really don’t want to hurt mom and Billy.”
“I know, but….you were pregnant. I put you through that. It’s a fantasy of mine, but jesus…I’m gonna feel guilty about that the rest of my life.”
She swayed a little, “Mmmm, it’s an older people thing. Sure we’ve got Christian girls at school that are up in arms, but you can just manage that stuff. It’s a part of life.”
More generational friction. I felt horrible thinking of putting a fetus inside her. It felt like a person to me. Then again, so many people nowadays think it’s nothing…something’s been lost in our culture. Says me, the guy fucked his own…you get the picture.
“I uhm, want to have one more dance with you. I have a new routine.”
I propped myself up on my arms, “In your mom’s bed?”
She shrugged, “I’ve always wanted to lay with you afterwards. And I want to….feel like I’m with you. Like she does.”.
Strolling, she walked to the iPod alarm clock and plugged it in. I noticed she also had a bottle of baby oil with her.
“It’s ‘We Can’t Stop’ by Miley Cyrus. You’ll like it.”
The towel she wore fell to the floor and she flipped on and dimmed the ceiling lights while I turned off the nightstand lamp. The music began, and she started things off with a slow ass shake, her head tilted toward me, but looking away.
I’ll leave the rest up to your imagination. Needless to say, it was glorious. She started out on top of me, rocking her hips in time with the music. The changing beats meant plenty of contorting tummy, her tits hanging as mounds above me. At one point I stood up and held her, still inside her, and we sat faces nearly touching, starting. When it played a third time, I pistoned in and out of her, making her pert breasts shake in time with the heavy bass. She came at least twice in panting, yet fierce orgasms. We fell asleep, spooning.
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