The Mother Road

by Meghan Quinn

There comes a time in a girl’s life when she has to reach deep down into her soul, clear the pathways of

her inner goddess, and let out her nuclear Satan. You know what I’m talking about. The crazy. Don’t try to act like you don’t have it; every woman does.

You lose it. Your eyelids flip inside out, fire shoots out of your vagina, and your toenails grow to exponential pterodactyl lengths. You’re at his throat, scratching his jugular with your toes until you’re satisfied enough with the human carnage you’ve turned him into.

Porter winks at me and kicks his feet up on the bench across from my seat. I want to kick the arrogance right off his face with a snaggle foot…right after I lick his entire body and pee around him so everyone knows he’s mine. Where’s my mom when I need her?

“This is crap!” I appreciate her outrage…it’s why we’re friends, we feed off each other’s emotions. You always feel so much better about yourself when your friend gets angry with you rather than trying to solve the problem. Sometimes, you just have to bitch.

We are the yin to our yang, the PB to our J, the lotioned hand to our throbbing dick.

I’m hers. For my own safe keeping, I grab my phone out of my pocket and turn the camera around so I’m taking a picture of myself with what my heart so desperately wants to say. I snap the picture and then pocket my phone, moving quickly away from my bleeding heart to join the McManns.

I will forever be hers, no matter where her life leads her without me.

In its prime, your mom used to call it the hammer because it would nail her to the bed in ecstasy.”

“Shit,” he drops his hand and looks at me. “Fuck, Marley. You shouldn’t know how to do that.” I would be insulted if he didn’t have a goofy, post-fellatio look on his face.

“But that was fucking hot,” he adds, pulling me down to his chest, where he grips the back of my neck and kisses me relentlessly until I am pulled under him, his pants pulled up unfortunately and his hand exploring its way down to my waistband.

Making soap is probably not what you pictured me doing out on the farm, especially given the beard, muscles, and plaid shirts, right? I get it; I don’t fit the build for the average soaper, but I got into it when I was researching about what else to do with goat’s milk when you have an abundance of the product and not enough demand. I came across soap made from goat’s milk, so I gave it a try.

“They like the product, but they’re on the fence. They’re sending the product to some testers to see what they think. Their results will give the investors a general idea of how they think the product will do in the common shopping circuit.”

With his hands, he frames my face, pushing loose strands of my hair to the side. Lovingly, he leans forward and kisses my forehead, his lips pressed against me for longer than I expected.

The moment is intimate, affectionate, and romantic. If I didn’t already love the man, then I would have fallen hard for him right now, but that’s not the case because he’s always owned my heart.

“It will do you both some good to remember that. Women weren’t put on this earth to please us nor serve us. Women were formed to be companions, partners in crime, and compasses to guide us through right and wrong. They are here to be our rock, our best friend, and the one person we turn to in good times and bad.”

My love for Marley is strong enough for me to let her go; too bad my heart is still battered and bruised from the first time I said goodbye.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” “What?” he pulls away, looking hurt. I run my finger over his jaw as I speak. “You see, I plan on spending many hours in bed with you, and having a roommate kind of puts a damper on that. How about we find our own place?” “I don’t know, can you handle my beard clippings?”

“Can you handle my red dot specials?” Laughing, he kisses me again. “I think it’s an even trade.”

Every time Porter steps out of the shower, I have to remind myself that he is not a penis machine handing out orgasms; he is in fact a man with a healthy libido that needs at least ten minutes to recover before getting back in the lady zone.