Sum'tin Switer

They looked at the made bed, and both their hearts jumped; it was going to be the place where they would leave their childhood behind, they were going to push and squeeze the innocence out of each other, they knew that, though they didn’t understand it, they knew it. The blue cotton sheets that her mother had recently bought were peaking from under the bluer comforter, the pillows crowning the head of the queen sized bed looked soft and inviting, just as she did. As she came closer he tried to wet his lips but found it harder than usual, his mouth was very dry; it was as if all the liquid in his body had travel south; his penis was like a rock with brown skin on it because of the bloody pressure coming from his pelvic zone was strong, his palms were drenched in sweat, and toes were moist from within his high-top sneakers. She put her lips on him, and to her, it was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted, all of a sudden the line “sweater than ice cream” made sense to her. Sarah McLachlan had sung it so many times, she had heard it so many times, but now she was living it, and understood it fully. As they kissed, his hands explored her body, starting at her neck, and finishing on her derriere. There he rested a while, then moved to the front where the holly triangle was found. His right hand was used to the routine, though having not fully dipped himself in the flesh of another, he had acquired experiences from his older, former, “friend”; hence, he knew how to pace his fingers, how to work them, how to direct them so that the proper sounds be spoken.