Our Way

by T.L. Swan

“We are not having sex on this rug… . like ever.” His eyes dance with delight, and he unzips his trousers as if I just issued him with the ultimate dare. “Nathan, no,” I warn as I step back from him. “Getting semen on this rug is a huge trigger for me.” “Not getting semen on this rug is a trigger for me.” He pulls his dick out and crash-tackles me onto the couch. I laugh out loud and try to escape his clutches.

I get up and shower as I mouth angry, fighting words to the shampoo bottles. I can’t say them to him, so I’ll let them have it.

I march up the sidewalk, toward the cab rank. “I can’t believe I wasted my time even talking to him,” I mutter as I storm along. “Comes back here, says a few pretty words, and thinks I should drop to my knees and suck his second-hand dick. How many people has he fucked while we were apart? I’m done.

“You have seven minutes to fuck me.” He slams me up against the wall, and his lips drop to my neck. “I only need five.”