Page 32 of Don't Puck Him

She hesitates for a few moments, embarrassed. But then she starts. “Please, Hunter. Please fuck me. I want to be yours. Please…”

I’ve heard better begging before, but from a first timer, it’s not bad. I spread her legs a little wider apart, run my hands down her body, and then enter.

From that moment on, I’m just as lost in the moment as she is. All I want is to fuck her, to keep fucking her. Fucking her feels like claiming her, and it’s so good. I thrust in and out as deep as I can go, and she moves her hips with me. The pleasure is mounting for both of us. My hands dance all over her body, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

And then she cries out, a totally unrestrained burst of pleasure. Her whole body tenses and then relaxes. Just a few seconds later, I feel the surge of my own orgasm. The warmth travels through my whole body, filling me up.

I stand up, gently lift her head, and undo the blindfold. I get her hands free, gently rubbing her wrists to make sure it wasn’t too tight. Finally, I lay down next to her and wrap my arm around her.

“How are you feeling?”

Technically, this is aftercare, but it all feels like part of the same process. Claiming her. Caring for her. Loving her.

“I’ve never had sex like that before,” she says, her voice starting to come back from the far away place.

“Was it good?”

“Yes!” she replies and laughs. I can’t help but laugh with her. She’s so sweet, and it makes me so happy to see her happy.

“Did you mean that stuff about owning me forever?” she asks after a pause. I’m not quite sure how to interpret the tone in her voice. Maybe she doesn’t know quite what she’s feeling either.

“I meant the part about caring about you,” I answer carefully.

“Oh,” she says.

For a moment, I almost think she seems disappointed.

We drift into a comfortable silence, wrapped up together on the bed. As we lie there, I wonder to myself – did I mean it? It’s such a strange, weird thing to say. And yet, when I feel Wren’s warmth against my own, and I think of all the time we’ve spent together, there’s an odd, broken part of me that can’t help but say yes. Yes, of course I want to own her. Of course I want it to be forever.

17

WREN

Iwalk out of Science B building. The bright sun hits me straight in the eyes. I put a hand over my face to see where I’m going, and I bump into a jersey-wearing chest.

I look up. I face the owner of the jersey with a flat affect.

“Hi, Hunter. What are you doing here? Are you supposed to be in the Humanities building about now?”

“Yeah, it was a lab. I finished early. Thought I'd come over and walk you to your next class.” Hunter takes the two textbooks and notepad from my hands and carries them for me like we’re in the middle of a fifties movie. I think about rejecting his offer. But I end up staying quiet.

I can’t tell if I like his being so forward with me or if it’s creeping me out. Arriving at my building just as I get out of class. Is that stalking? Nah. Can’t be. He’s just being considerate. My spidey sense antenna goes up, regardless. Hunter’s showing up out of the blue still feels weird when it happens.

“So, where are we headed?” Hunter looks down at me with an easy smile.

“Science A, just across this quad. It’s a lab for me, too.”

“A science lab?” Hunter asks, but I’m not sure he really cares.

“Nope, language lab. It’s boring.”

We walk in silence for a while. Our steps are quiet. We’re both wearing sneakers. The sun bakes down on our heads. It’s a late summer in Boston this year. I squint to see the glaring sunlit pavement below me. I count the blocks to bide time, and I don’t step on any crack. I need all the help I can get.

In the silence, my mind swims…

I know I love when he’s tight with me, when we’re alone and intimate. It’s such a turn-on. I feel slightly ashamed, but not enough to drown my arousal. But in public, like this, where he’s skulking out my every move? Alarms are going off in my head. My sneakers walk slow and careful, but they want to run, and run fast.

My last thought is a paradox.But where could I run that he wouldn’t find me? And I’d still want to be found.

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