She was sucking it. Her cunt was making squishing noises, as if I'd already come, but I hadn't. I was almost too excited to come."Uh huh," she said, talking with the dress in her mouth. "That's it baby. That's it." The dress wasn't in her mouth any more. She was staring at me with her sparkling blue eyes, urging me on, urging me to come in her, banging me back with her sweet little body, her beautiful titties thrashing under the road map. "Give it to me," she was saying. "Fuck me. Fuck me harder. Oh, Mike, Oh, Mike. Oh, Mike."I fucked her harder. The truck rocked with our fuck. I wanted to come, but I wanted to fuck forever. Her head was thrust back now. Her sunshine hair fanned out on the seat. She was straining hard for her orgasm.And then it happened. A blur of everything, but in slow motion. Her legs going up, her body bucking off the seat, bucking me out of her. And the semi, in a blur of red, rushing past, its air horn blaring. And me coming. Emptying myself.Almost as soon as. Nothing to do. I could call my sister. Then again, I don’t want to hear about whichever rock band she’s currently obsessed with. I could call my parents. But they’d ask questions and I’m a terrible liar even over the phone. I flick the television on an am confronted by fake sitcom laughter. The jokes are overdone, over-applauded, and some are over my head. Being alone is so hollow. Having nothing to do is okay if you’ve got someone to do nothing with but otherwise it eats at you like woodworm, leaving you hollow and insecure.I flick off the television and silence resumes. Teeth. Shower. Bed. The sheets are cool. I can never sleep until he gets home. I retrieve my phone, pray that the WiFi will work and absorb myself in the glowing screen.The world is a huge lake full of interesting people and I lie there, looking at the small screen and Twitter and Facebook and Instagram profiles and pictures of beautiful people and people in love and people just living. Going places. Things that I do.
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