The following is excerpted from Will We All Still See Each Other Afterward by Tyler Dempsey, first published by Anxiety Press in 2023.
***
On my back. On the floor.
Doing Wim Hof attempting to calm my excitement.
You hyperventilate and after your body realizes it’s not actually dying you feel calm.
Google it.
A black spider darts, stops, darts, stops, crossing my ceiling. Imagine it crawling on Katie and I in bed. In the vision, I jump, squealing. Doing that foot-to-foot thing elephants do in cartoons when they see a mouse.
Hear the arctic-entry door. Then a knock.
“Come innnnn.”
She comes in.
“Heyyy.”
Spotting me through the frame in the kitchen, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Watching a spider on the ceiling.”
“Weirdo.”
She strolls over, looking down, “I ran into Abby when I was almost back to the kennel with S’more.”
“Shit. How was that? You okay?”
“Fiiine. Just awkward. She said y’all were messaging on Facebook?”
“Yeah,” prop to my hands, “seeing if she wanted to go backcountry skiing.”
“Do you like her? Not that it matters.”
“Not at all. Reached out after you and I started hanging. But before anything, you know. She kept having random things come up so we never got together.”
Narrowing eyes, “That’s what she said. But that you were being all macho and mansplain-y about it.”
“You believe her?”
“Said, it didn’t sound like you. Buuut I don’t know. I still barely know you I guess.”
“Maybe I was? I don’t know. Felt normal to me.”
“She also asked if we were fucking.”
“What?”
“She knows something.”
“I barely know.”
“Maybe she saw your car at my place?”
Open Messenger. Hand her my phone. Blue reflects in her glasses as conversation boxes whiz. She thumbs frantically to the beginning the way some people do signifying they’re done.
“Don’t know what she’s talking about. Seems weirdly friendly since y’all have never hung out. But other than that, pretty standard.”
Smiling from where I’m standing.
“Sorry.” Her shoulders relax.
“It’s okay,” walk up, sliding arms around her, applying gentle pressure. She snugs her face in the crook of my neck. Breathes through her nose. Kneading my shoulders like a cat.
Blood rushes to my groin.
She looks down, then in my eyes, eyebrows bouncing like ohh-la-la.
We’re making out. In a style, communicating clearly, tension between us at a fever pitch. We step back and she removes her glasses. I pull off her shirt.
Returning the favor she goes, “All muscly, meeoww,” comically fondling my chest.
“Shut up.”
Sidestep to the bed. Grab her hamstrings and heft. She wraps her legs around me. Transfer one arm to her back and crawl us into pre-missionary-insertion position on the bed. I grab her sports bra and she moves like diving as I slip it off.
Hair splayed on my pillow. Color of her nipples.
Holy shit.
Unbutton her skinny jeans. She thrusts as I awkwardly peel them off. Remove my shorts and underwear, tossing them somewhere. Putting my weight on her, she pushes the back of my head into a kiss and scratches my shoulder with the other hand.
I whisper, “Can I kiss it?”
She nods.
I move down, relishing slowness. She moves in ways to meet my lips. After kissing the warmth through her panties, I tug.
Focusing mostly—but not too much—on her clit. “Jesus, you’re so wet.”
“I know.” She pushes my head down.
Kissing back up to her face to draw it out, she goes, “Do you have a condom?”
App replacing aspirin saving you from heart attack.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Honestly, at this point, I just want to get it over with you know?”
“Ohhhh-kay.” Hop down, grabbing a Magnum.
Just kidding. A Trojan.
Slip it on.
Holding my shaft. I slide the head up and down her entrance while she squirms.
I push. But.
It stops.
What the.
Try some more.
It isn’t working.
I’m six-and-a-quarter. Not huge.
And she’s practically spewing.
But nothing.
“Crazy,” she says.
“This’s never happened.”
I go down again. Try working more fingers in. Eventually three, which seems sufficient.
The condom wilted me, so I slide the horrible monster from my penis. Pulling her down by the waist I sort of hop, straddling her head with my knees. Grabbing the headboard.
She takes me in her mouth.
“Mind if we try without and I pull out?”
Rolls her eyes, “Fine.”
Push from my hips, death-gripping my shaft. Trying to jam it in, I feel desperate. Almost violent. But she isn’t screaming or anything.
Finally, the dam breaks.
“My god. You’re so tight.”
I’m fucking Katie. A kinda-virgin. A lesbian? Insane.
I last five minutes. Pull out, shooting a geyser on her stomach. Pool the cum with a dirty shirt and hand her a wet wipe.
“Want me to go down on you again?”
She Larry Bird’s the wipe, bricking it off my trashcan, “No, I’m good.”
Extends her arms like come err.
I crawl in. Snuggle the blanket around us.
“That was nice.”
“You felt good,” kiss the bone at the base of her neck. “Should I…”
She snores softly.
Extend my arm as far as it’ll go, flicking the light.
Lips around my penis. Blanket steady rising and falling. Light curtains span the room burning dust particles white.
Thought this was a one-off thing?
Place my hand on the back of her head. Under the blanket, she deep-throats, then slides to the crown. Lingering, suctioning more and more before releasing, and the built-up air and her lips make a sound like puhh.
Face appearing below mine. “Good morning.”
I get behind her. Lasting fifteen minutes, drowsiness helping with endurance. She cums twice and I pull out, cumming into the triangle of her lower back.
Ask if she wants a breakfast burrito. She says yes but that she has to leave for work. I’m watching her walking to her Jeep before my penis goes fully flaccid.
Amazing.