Page 22 of Shake the Spirit

“No, I want to see how it ends.”

“Cartman gets probed up the ass by aliens,” I say, settling next to Oana and kissing her throat.

Moaning in reaction to my affection, she breathlessly asks, “Does it always feel this good?”

“I don’t know. I think so. My great-grandparents still bang, and they hate each other.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” she replies, giving me a worried frown.

“We’re not them.”

“What if we are?”

“I’m not Zeb. You aren’t Coretta.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I’m not an ornery hillbilly moonshiner. You aren’t a loudmouth slap-happy shrew.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be like my mother and hate sex.”

“No offense, but I got a solid look at your father. I wouldn’t want to fuck that, either.”

Oana snickers and scoots closer. “Can we share a bed tonight?”

“Yes, but we must wait until we’re married to do everything.”

“Because I’m a virgin?”

“No, because I’m old-fashioned.”

“But we can’t get married for real for a while. What if we can’t wait to do everything?”

“Oh, yeah,” I mumble, realizing I didn’t mention that information to Tuesday when she was making her calculations. “Well, we can’t do anything tonight besides some kissing and touching in the dark. Let’s pace ourselves. Tonight is like a first date.”

Oana studies me, likely thinking I’m a moron. When a smile warms her face, I suspect she isn’t thinking anything negative at all.

Fucking—let alone foreplay—doesn’t normally scare the shit out of me. But our sex life will act as a representative of the secular world. If I make our first time gross or negative, Oana’s bound to wonder if her parents were right. I don’t want her thinking we’re sex-crazed sinners.

So even rubbing one out might be too much. Besides, I’ve never done that with a woman before. I only fuck chicks rather than do all the smooth shit that makes them go crazy.

The pressure to be a perfect lover bears down on me. Without a doubt, I’m going to fuck up!

Kissing Oana, I want her first time to be like our time in the woods—magic.

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