Alissa Nutting - Tampa

“Mine too,” he said, then, realizing his own joke, began to giggle. Now that it was over, the lust no longer there to suppress his modesty, Jack seemed embarrassed of his body—he’d lifted his knees up to his chest.

I reached up into the front seat and turned the key, blasting a cool stream of air-conditioning back onto us, and looked at the clock. It felt like we’d been there for hours, but it had only been twenty minutes.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to go to a drive-through?” Jack nodded. He reached to the floor and pulled his underwear back on, and I climbed up into the front seat to grab our clothes, hoping he was staring at my ass and the glossy spill covering my thighs. I knew it would be a while before he stopped being too timid to do something like mount me from behind and have me again. I looked back to see—if he was erect, we could easily have another session in this new position. But his penis was flaccid and he was looking out the window. And yet, I reasoned, it was hard for him to want what he didn’t know he could have—it probably didn’t cross his mind that sex again already was possible.

“Jack,” I called softly. When he looked up at me, his eyes immediately fell right where they should have. “I want you to feel comfortable with my body,” I said, turning my head around so he was left unsupervised with my backside squatted toward him. “Why don’t you have another look?” I asked. When he still hadn’t touched me after a long minute, I gave him direction. “Spread my cheeks apart,” I whispered, turning to watch him. He sat for a moment, contemplating, like a child who had once touched a hot stove and now wanted to overcome his fear by daring himself to place a hand on its burner when the electricity was off. Gradually his thin fingers slid up my legs and across the patches of drying cum between my thighs, then he gripped the flesh of my cheeks at their fullest point and pulled them to opposing sides. My asshole immediately tightened as I felt a cold shock of air from the side vent upon it. Reaching one arm back, my hand landed on his knee. “Come closer,” I urged. Now that I might have him again, it seemed I hadn’t had him at all—every ounce of my original desire returned. My fingers crawled up his leg to the nexus of his crotch, and with a small bend of my elbow, I was able to grip the base of him and gently pull. He obediently scooted up closer to the edge of his seat. When I balanced on my knees, I was finally able to straddle over him backward and sit down on his lap.

There were a few awkward limp thrusts when I wasn’t sure he was responding, but soon his nascent erection began to quicken. He even grabbed my hips for better leverage as he lifted himself up and down. I turned my head and began kissing him more violently than I meant to; I couldn’t restrain myself. He was simply right there for the taking. “Do it as hard as you can,” I breathed, and he did, the speed making him feel larger inside me as he strove toward climax. When he came his teeth involuntarily clenched together, nearly catching my tongue between them; I slid his right hand around from my hip onto my clit and pubis in broad, mashing strokes. It was the thought of his small fist punching up into me that made my whole body begin to shake until I’d slid off the seat; soon my spent limbs were splayed between the floor and the front passenger seat, my ass unceremoniously positioned upward in the air. For a moment the car was filled with nothing but the sound of our panting breath; desire had chased us long and hard.

“Do you need help up?” he finally asked.

My position on the ground suggested I’d been tossed from my seat in a car accident. I took a deep breath and uncrumpled my limbs, pushing my damp hair from my face. Wordlessly, I reached up and grabbed his shirt and pants and my shorts. We dressed in silence and said nothing as we moved back into the front of the car, though the soreness between my legs when I spread them to climb over the console was such a pleasant sort of ache that I nearly swore. A hurried urge to get him back home suddenly came over me—I wanted plenty of time alone with my own fantasied memories of the evening before Ford got off work.

Two exits outside of town we got milkshakes and burgers and parked in front of a closed appliance store to eat. There was a clear eroticism to every action Jack made—ripping open the ketchup packet with his teeth, taking the top off the milkshake cup to attack the whipped cream with his tongue; I didn’t know if it was an intentional tease or if his actions normally held such innuendoed physicality. “We don’t have this restaurant in town,” he commented. “Their milkshakes are really good.”

“You’ll see me again, won’t you, Jack?” I’d taken the cherry off the top of my milkshake to suck, holding its stem between my lips as I looked at him with imploring eyes. He used his arm like a napkin on the whipped cream in the corners of his mouth and I smiled. “Besides in class, I mean.”

He nodded eagerly, then ran his fingers across the grooves in the top of the gearshift, reading it like Braille, turning to me with a hopeful expression. “Can we do this every night?”

His forehead was still sweaty. I brushed at it with a napkin, pausing to tuck a fold of hair back against the side of his head. “Probably not every single night. Hopefully most nights though.” I started the car but turned the radio down low as I pulled out of the parking lot; from Jack’s tentative expression, it seemed like he had more to say.

“Should I drop you off at the same place?” I started.

He gave a small nod. “It’s going to feel really weird being in class tomorrow.” We pulled up to a stoplight and I noticed a shoddy hotel, the Toucan Inn, on my left. I imagined checking into it with Jack and the shroud of anonymity we’d have to function under, the way the coming months would force us to date like criminals on the lam, shirking anyplace public, any activity that might require ID.

“Want to go to that motel sometime?” I pointed. “It won’t be clean enough to get under the sheets but I’ll bet there’s a nice setup of mirrors in each room.” His face took on a blank expression, like his mind had to unfold new and never-used corners to process what I’d just said. I placed a reassuring hand on his upper leg and squeezed. “Don’t worry about class. You’re always daydreaming in there, anyway. What are you thinking about?” He shrugged.

“Stupid stuff, I dunno. Whatever comes into my head. I don’t usually even remember. One minute I’m staring off into space and then suddenly a teacher’s calling on me.” He bent over and began putting his shoes back on. “Mrs. Feinlog is the worst about that. She pretends like she’s NASA or something. ‘Jack, Jack, you’re lost in orbit.’ She’s such an idiot.”

“I’m sorry she picks on you. She doesn’t have many advantages in life.” I pulled back into the Taco Bell lot and felt a deep sense of normalcy: here we were right where we’d started—it had actually happened, and no one else knew. Jack sat casually slouched in the passenger seat and continued to make small talk for a few minutes. He certainly didn’t seem traumatized or the victim of something harmful—in fact his expression was alive with a dewy glow. Far more so than when I’d first picked him up, he looked spirited and engaged. He looked improved.

“So when are you unsupervised this week?” I asked. He seemed to get the joke, a thin smile spreading over his lips as he thought.

“My mom lives in Crystal Springs; it’s just me and my dad. Usually he’s home by six but I’m alone from when I get home at four until then.” His face suddenly brightened with the realization of good news. “And Wednesdays he’s never home before nine… he stays late to do continuing education for the new service reps. IT maintenance stuff. He doesn’t really like me to go out on school nights.”