those things had reappeared giving me a second chance.
After jacking off in the shower the night before I was still tense. All the cold water took care of was the pain in my dick, not my heart. I decided I needed another drink to forget that discomfort. Then that one turned into another and another until I ended up with the lovely collection that Luke kept pestering me about.
“Why would George? Brad sure didn’t care when they were together,” Luke said.
I ran a frustrated hand through my damp hair, struggling to not pull it out. Did none of these guys respect her at all?
“Are you going to keep talking about some chick you’ll never get to bang or are we going to watch this game?” I reached over stealing back my remote. If I didn’t try to change the subject I would have been feeding Luke a fist full of chips, knuckles first.
“Whatever. I don’t know why you care so much,” Luke said shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth, not caring that half of them ended up on my floor, finishing with a loud smack of beer.
Grace and I were sitting on her plum velour couch watching puppies playing football on her thirty-two inch tube TV after just watching the big parade. This was our yearly tradition that usually I looked forward to, but not this year.
I should have been enjoying myself. The turkey was browning nicely and all the sides were done without having to redo any because we used sugar instead of salt on accident. We pulled everything off without a hitch this time, unlike so many others. It only took us seven years but we were finally mastering the holiday food preparations. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get the feel of John off me from the night before. His lips were burned into every spot he touched, which was, for the most part, my entire body.
A gargantuan pitcher of mango margaritas sat in front of us already half empty. Guess it was a good thing we did the sides before the drinks. I better write this step down for next year since that was where we usually screwed up, drinking while cooking.
Grace sat next to me, grinning proudly at our accomplishments while her glass tipped further and further with each refill she took. I was waiting for the orange slush to come spilling out the side at any minute.
“To us, sister! The men that catch us will love this holiday as much as we do!” She held out her glass for me to clink, coming to near disaster when her hand slipped down the stem. After sucking the frozen drink off the top of her hand that escaped she pushed it out further.
I reciprocated with only a quarter the enthusiasm as she had. How could I be as merry as her, there was no way? Not this year. He was somewhere in this city near me but not with me. He never would be if I could help it. It was for his own good. I would never love this holiday. Enjoy it because I got to spend it with Grace, yes, but that was about it. I always spent this day with John and his family, so it was bittersweet. Grace had no idea that the stuffing I made every year was the recipe his mom gave me, or the sweet potatoes either for that matter. He wasn’t here and it just sucked, especially with the knowledge he was so close.
“So tell me, sis, did you make out with Mr. Hottie? If you did, you gotta tell me. Did he come back after I left? I’m dying to find out.” Grace leaned into me, rubbing shoulders.
The word sis became more frequent when she started to get tipsy. Early on in our new-found friendship it bothered me, reminding me of my own sisters that I hadn’t seen in forever, wishing she’d shut up. I quickly got over it when she explained it was to help her forget the words she had heard her mother being called while her father was drunk. It grounded her with the feeling of family she wished she’d had instead of what she got. I couldn’t get mad at her for it. She was a lovey, mushy drunk, the complete opposite of her father, so she tells me, and most definitely different from my
After jacking off in the shower the night before I was still tense. All the cold water took care of was the pain in my dick, not my heart. I decided I needed another drink to forget that discomfort. Then that one turned into another and another until I ended up with the lovely collection that Luke kept pestering me about.
“Why would George? Brad sure didn’t care when they were together,” Luke said.
I ran a frustrated hand through my damp hair, struggling to not pull it out. Did none of these guys respect her at all?
“Are you going to keep talking about some chick you’ll never get to bang or are we going to watch this game?” I reached over stealing back my remote. If I didn’t try to change the subject I would have been feeding Luke a fist full of chips, knuckles first.
“Whatever. I don’t know why you care so much,” Luke said shoveling a handful of chips into his mouth, not caring that half of them ended up on my floor, finishing with a loud smack of beer.
Grace and I were sitting on her plum velour couch watching puppies playing football on her thirty-two inch tube TV after just watching the big parade. This was our yearly tradition that usually I looked forward to, but not this year.
I should have been enjoying myself. The turkey was browning nicely and all the sides were done without having to redo any because we used sugar instead of salt on accident. We pulled everything off without a hitch this time, unlike so many others. It only took us seven years but we were finally mastering the holiday food preparations. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get the feel of John off me from the night before. His lips were burned into every spot he touched, which was, for the most part, my entire body.
A gargantuan pitcher of mango margaritas sat in front of us already half empty. Guess it was a good thing we did the sides before the drinks. I better write this step down for next year since that was where we usually screwed up, drinking while cooking.
Grace sat next to me, grinning proudly at our accomplishments while her glass tipped further and further with each refill she took. I was waiting for the orange slush to come spilling out the side at any minute.
“To us, sister! The men that catch us will love this holiday as much as we do!” She held out her glass for me to clink, coming to near disaster when her hand slipped down the stem. After sucking the frozen drink off the top of her hand that escaped she pushed it out further.
I reciprocated with only a quarter the enthusiasm as she had. How could I be as merry as her, there was no way? Not this year. He was somewhere in this city near me but not with me. He never would be if I could help it. It was for his own good. I would never love this holiday. Enjoy it because I got to spend it with Grace, yes, but that was about it. I always spent this day with John and his family, so it was bittersweet. Grace had no idea that the stuffing I made every year was the recipe his mom gave me, or the sweet potatoes either for that matter. He wasn’t here and it just sucked, especially with the knowledge he was so close.
“So tell me, sis, did you make out with Mr. Hottie? If you did, you gotta tell me. Did he come back after I left? I’m dying to find out.” Grace leaned into me, rubbing shoulders.
The word sis became more frequent when she started to get tipsy. Early on in our new-found friendship it bothered me, reminding me of my own sisters that I hadn’t seen in forever, wishing she’d shut up. I quickly got over it when she explained it was to help her forget the words she had heard her mother being called while her father was drunk. It grounded her with the feeling of family she wished she’d had instead of what she got. I couldn’t get mad at her for it. She was a lovey, mushy drunk, the complete opposite of her father, so she tells me, and most definitely different from my
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