blood test
Cast to chance, less than one hundred percent sure, I sit down into a slow motion nightmare. Time slows to nothingness. The blood, drawn several days ago, had been tested and now I merely had to wait for the results.
In the valley of my armpit I feel a bead of sweat begin to form.
Waiting silently, I feel sound waves reverberate off lights in an extended fluorescent hum. Recalling what brought me here, I shudder at the stupidity, at the unnecessary risk I have taken. I shouldn’t have gone, I shouldn’t have had that one last drink and I shouldn’t have accepted his offer to drive me home.
The bead expands, begins to travel downward through mazes of hair.
The sound waves crawl, rolling over the peaks and valleys in the ceiling, baffling themselves in contours of white. I remember the odd sound of the tires on his gravel driveway, my off hand comment, “Hey, this is the wrong house,” and our slightly dizzy stagger into his house. I should have just slept it off on his couch, but instead I followed him to his room and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Liquid heat merges and expands in a glistening journey downward.
My head throbs, blood, thick as molasses, oozes through my veins, my watch blinks seconds in five-minute intervals. I reminisce of the rough feel of his hands on my cock as he stroked it firmly and the odd look on his face when I reached for a condom. “I’m clean, besides the chances of you catching…” I answered with a shake of my head and rolled the condom over my erect cock.
The bead flows following contours over my ribs leaving a trail of moisture.
Relativity is lost, time dozes in strange mid-breath siestas. I wait; carpet beneath me unravels in the inevitable decay of time. I can almost feel the intensity of that time, the feeling in spite of the condom, the expert way he sucked me off, the incredible sensation as I came into the condom. I then took his cock, stroked it until he was again fully hard and rolled a condom onto him. As I was about to take him into my mouth, it was his turn to shake is head. “I want to fuck you,” he said, applying lubricant to himself. He watched me kneel on all fours and then he began kissing my ass, easing his lubricated slowly into my ass. “You’ve never done this before have you?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll be gentle,” he replied. I felt my anus expand as he slid a second finger into me and slowly work them around. I then felt them come out and take hold of my ass, pulling the cheeks open. His cock felt large, much larger than it felt in my hand. I felt him push against me as he pulled me apart, and I felt myself, slowly ease over, first the head, and then the beginning of his shaft. He paused as I caught my breath, and then as I pressed slightly back to him, he continued his penetration. I felt myself slowly being filled, the sensation odd, as if I needed to… But then his withdrawal left a wide vacant feeling in me, longing for him, for something to fill and then he pressed again.
It became a rhythm, slowly increasing in speed, deeper with each push. I felt my cock harden again as he continued thrusting, faster and faster. Suddenly, the resistance changes and I feel an oddly different texture to him as he moans and says, “Oh yeah.”
I feel the wet surge inside me as I lean away from him, fighting him as he tries to hold himself deep in my rectum. Finally, I feel him recede from me, the sudden empty feeling, accompanied with a slight burn. I turn to see a droplet of his cum on the tip of his cock and the broken condom dangling like a piece of dead skin. A faint trail of red marks his shaft as I rush into the bathroom and splash my face with water. Damn, I don’t know him, who he’s been with, what he’s got, damn, damn.
I remember the evening ending with a ride home, my complete silence to his repeated, “I’m clean man, you don’t have to worry.”
When we arrived at my hotel he asked if he could call me, I could only shake my head. “Fuck you,” I thought, fuck you hell, fuck me. I would return home in a few days, to my wife, my kids and, dammit it looks like my doctor.
Tickling down my side, the sweat tumbles onto my shirt, the dark, wet spot expands.
The "shriff" of pants on the chair echoes through the room as I uncross my legs. Then a creak! The rotation of a knob, moan of a door and a muted voice flows into my consciousness... “Negative,” whispered. “Negative,” she repeats.
Dark blue on light, the salty wet penetrates the fibers and cools.
I wander out into the sunlight; look at my watch, now ticking again: fifteen minutes. The ache in my head remains, pummeling my brain with the thought: “Never, never again.”
