You Should've Kept Driving

by M.A. Savino

From my vantage point, he looks like a giant—tall, godly, and powerful. I want to reach up, rip his zipper open, and eat his cock.

“I think about you too.” I gaze into his baby blues. “About fucking me or killing me?” “Both.”

I would stuff some freshly whipped warm mashed potatoes between his butt cheeks and lap them up like a thirsty dog.

Fucking release, me, Daddy.

I wish Griffin were naked at this very moment. I bet his asshole is puckering tighter than a hand carrying a bag full of dogshit after a long walk.

“I am a plague with no cure, a virus with no vaccine—a deadly army of one. And you…” I point at him. “…you killed the only thing preventing me from ravishing this world. You freed me, Griffin. And for that, I thank you.”

At his age, he probably ejaculates dust instead of liquid.

I stroll down the hall and whip open the freezer door. Griffin's frosted cock glistens in the frozen space. I lift it by its wooden handle and caress my exhausted face with it. In my head, I hum Old Time Rock and Roll.