Page 74 of Lovetown, USA
And just like that, my face is smashed into the mattress and Trey is pounding my pussy into oblivion. My muffled screams make no difference, nor do my fingers as they claw at the sheets. He’s relentless and I’m loving it, every thrust, every jolt to my spine, every curse and grunt tearing from his throat.
If I could talk, I’d tell him how much I love his dick, how good it feels to feel how out of control he is, how I can’t wait to feel him cum in me. But I can’t, because I’m still face down, ass up,and he probably wouldn’t hear me anyway, because Shayla’s still moaning, and his balls are loud as they slap against my ass.
Finally, he slams into me with a roar, and I moan with him, because I feel him throbbing inside me and it feels so damn good. This goes on for longer than usual, but at least I can breathe now because his hands are gripping my hips, holding me still while he empties himself inside me.
It’s quieter now, with only the sounds of us breathing filling the air. We each lay flat on some part of the bed, limp, our energy depleted, but deeply, deeply satisfied.
Shayla moves first, padding off to the restroom. I stay right where I am in the middle of the mattress. Trey lays down next to me, throwing an arm over his eyes. I look over at him, smiling in triumph.
When Shayla returns, she reaches into her nightstand, then lays on her back on the other side of me. She lights a blunt and takes a pull before offering it to me. Just like last time, I shake my head. To my surprise, Trey looks over and holds out his hand, and they pass it right over me. I smile watching him inhale a few puffs before passing it back to her.
The three of us stare up at the ceiling, saying nothing.
Until I break the silence.
“Shay, do you always smoke after sex?”
“I usually smoke before,” she murmurs. “It’s more intense.”
“Facts,” Trey says.
I turn to look at him. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
He smiles up at the ceiling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, baby girl.”
“Okay, then tell me something.”
He reaches across my chest and takes the blunt from Shayla, taking a pull, blowing the smoke straight up. “What do you wanna know?”
“Hmmm…” I trail off as I start to feel lighter. “What would it take to truly make you happy?”
“Oh, she’s getting philosophical on us,” Shayla teases.
Trey snickers. “She’s just as high as we are.”
A giggle escapes me before I can stop it. “That question is to both of y’all.”
Silence fills the gaps between us. Smoke curls in the air. Then, finally, Shayla sighs softly.
“It would make me truly happy if my parents accepted me.”
I turn my head to the right to look at her face. “They don’t support you?
She shrugs. “They’re not overtly rude about it. They’re…” she trails off. “They’repolite. That’s the word. But their politeness is very loud and very cold. It tells me everything they don’t say. And I know I’m too old to give a fuck what my parents think, but—“
“You’re never too old,” I cut in. “They’re your parents. They’re supposed to love you unconditionally.”
Shayla inhales again, then passes back to Trey. When she exhales, her smoke ghosts over my cheek and I take a deep breath.
“My last girlfriend…they invited her to Thanksgiving. That’s cool, right? But the whole night, you could just tell. Like when somebody stumbles over a word and everybody pretends not to notice. And I don’t want that. I don’t wanna be the elephant in the room. I want my mom to ask my girl how we met and when we fell in love. I want my daddy to ask what her intentions are,” she says with a laugh. “Just regular shit, if that makes sense.”
“Makes sense to me,” Trey says.
“Me, too.” Her words sit on my heart like a twenty-pound weight. I turn my head toward her again, studying the faint outline of her profile in the candlelight.
When Trey passes the blunt back, she doesn’t take it at first. Her eyes are still fixed upward, her mind still at her parents’ dining room table. Finally, she accepts it, inhales again, and lets the smoke drift toward the ceiling with a sigh as if she’s letting her angst float away with it.
I swallow, throat dry. Her honesty stirred something in me. Something I need to get out.
