A Kiss on the Corner of My Mouth

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them. Nope, never happened. Nope, make no money. Yup, I'm very sad. Counting Crows own the song.

A Kiss on the Corner of my Mouth

"I am taffy stuck and tongue tied
Stutter shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready . . .
I am fine"

I don't believe in God anymore. And before you shriek and wonder what terrible, horrible life altering experience made me lose faith in 'god', just listen.

It wasn't terrible or horrible. And I haven't really prayed to 'god' since I was about fourteen. But the experience was life altering. How could it not be?

What happened? Well, I fell in love for the first time. I'm seventeen tomorrow and I fell in love about a year ago.

And he's . . . perfect. If I believe in 'god', he would be my god. I read somewhere once about 'god' coming down in human form. And if Mike didn't do pot and curse and masturbate all the time and steal porn from the video store, I'd say he were god. He's my idea of God anyway.

So, about that life-altering experience. Like all good life altering experiences do, it had something to do with sex. And you're all thinking that most life-altering experiences don't have to do with sex. Consider this: honeymoon when you get married, kids conceived through sex, being born yourself happened because of sex, losing your virginity, the first time you beat off . . . Sex sex sex!

So shut up you fucking Puritans.

We were drunk and Mike . . . kissed me. On the corner of my mouth, then square on the mouth. And I just kind of sat there until I felt his tongue pressing against my lips. Well, what do you do when that happens? Open your mouth of course. And then I responded. I think I may have made a noise.

And then his arms linked under my legs and I was laying on the couch, my mouth still open and recieving his kiss. (I know, I know. I'm so fucking poetic.) I felt a hand behind my head, pulling me even closer to him and a hand grabbing my ass.

Oh fuck. Oh fuckity fuck fuck. Well, when you're an almost sixteen year old guy and someone's grabbing your ass and he's got his tongue massaging your fucking tonsils, what do you think happens? Well of course you get hard. I'd be a fucking idiot if I didn't.

His mouth pulled away from mine and he gave a sort of laugh and I gave a breathless giggle in return. (I'd give anything to change my laugh.) And he started touching me through the all-too thin material of my pants. I bucked up, almost against my will and then again, not quite. He laughed again.

"Someone's excited." he said softly.

I bit my lip in return. Way to state the obvious, Mike. What the fuck do you say to that?

And then I heard and felt him undoing the zipper and the button. And his hand . . . oh fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Under my fucking boxers and it felt so good.

But he pulled away too soon and I glared at him with all the annoyance of a guy who going to come and then couldn't. But I was still horny as hell, so I'm sure the look of annoyance was more a look of desperation and fuck me.

He sat up. "Get your clothes off." He was already pulling his shirt over his head. Now, normally I would have refused and played hard to get or something. (Call me a slut, I don't care.) But like I said before, we were drunk. And I'm not the world's greatest drunk. I've heard it gets better with age.

So I stripped, fumbling with clothes. I guess Mike has a kinky fetish or something because he made me keep my socks on. (No need to say weird. I thought the same thing.) Before he turned back to me, he fished in his pillowcase for something. (At least we were in his bed. I'd hate to be 'deflowered' on the kitchen counter or something. Hell, who the fuck am I kidding? I'd have fucked him in my parents' bed at this point.)

He pushed me back on the bed again and opened the bottle of lotion. (Lubricant. I gave an almost girlish grin when I realized how often Mike must jack off in his bed. I prefer the bathroom, but my room isn't the most private place in the world.)

He pushed a finger into me. It was cold from the lotion and it hurt. Bad. But of course I didn't say anything. What would you say? Of course it was going to hurt. But from all the stories I'd read (I have my ways) I knew it would get better.

He added another finger and started thrusting them until . . . Oh fuck. Oh fuckity fuck fuck. Oh, shit. Yeah, he found it. And I know I looked like a slut, thrusting up and moving on his fingers, just begging to be fucked.

And he moved his fingers apart and put them back together, like when you make a scissors gesture. Don't know what that's called. And then he pulled his fingers out. I closed my eyes then. I heard him rubbing the lube on himself and I nodded when he asked if I was ready.

Shit. Fuck. Motherfucking son of a bitch! God it hurt. I felt like I was going to split in two. My eyes were squeezed so tight and I was tight, tensed up.

"Breathe." he whispered after he was all the way in. "It'll help you relax." I didn't move. "Breathe." he said again, a little less patient.

Slowly, I started to take breaths and he was right. It did help. Not enough to cancel out the pain of when he started thrusting though.

And then . . . he found it again. Oh fuck. Oh fuckity fuck fuck. And I was gasping and panting and I'm sure I looked like a whore again. And I brought my hands up to his shoulders and just felt him. He was so warm and slicked with sweat and I opened my eyes.

He was so fucking beautiful. His blue eyes looked into mine for a second and he smiled. One more thrust and I couldn't have closed my eyes for the world. Every muscle in my body tensed and my back arched and I came. I think I may have seen stars. I don't know.

Mike said later that my eyes went a different shade of green.

He came a few thrusts later and then he pulled out. And we pulled the blanket up. And I reached over for my shirt and I saw all my empty beer bottles and I saw Mike's. None of them were even opened.

Don't gasp. Don't look at me like that. He didn't take advantage of me. To take advantage of me he'd have to trick me into doing something I hadn't daydreamed about for the past year.

But that's why I don't believe in God. Because anyone who invented sex that good had to be human. God never fucked, remember? Pure and all that. How could he invent sex that good? Only humans have sex, therefore humans had to create sex. Plus, he thinks gay sex is wrong and let me tell you . . .

There's no fucking way that was wrong. You can't argue with an orgasm.

And with Mike kissing me on the corner of my mouth before we went to bed.

And him grabbing my hand the next morning and asking me to be his boyfriend and the way he held my hand in school the next day and the way we didn't care what people said.

How could that be wrong?

God is fucking dead.

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Don't ask, don't tell. No, really. This came out strange.