bicycle handle

He gave me the handle from a bicycle and settled against the wall. He wanted to watch. I suppose I knew that this would be the last time for us. There was no kiss hello, no hug, just a handing over of the implement.

"I want to watch" he said and settled, just like that.

"You want me to masturbate?"

"Yes."

"You want to watch?"

"Yes."

I could have said no, I suppose but this was an adventure I had never been on. I was always up for an adventure.

"Open them," like the bodiless voice intruding on a scene from a pornographic movie. "Now spit."

And I glared. As if the boy could direct me towards orgasm better than I could direct myself.

"Be quiet," I told him, "or I won't be able to come"

"I don't care if you come or not."

And so the line had been drawn. I raced him, from my position perched on the edge of his bed. I watched him fully clothed, but with his penis a ridiculous protrusion, and his hand around it. No spit for him. He had the bottle of lubrication and he used it liberally. I would make this about me, I thought, about my orgasm. I would use him equally as well as he would use me. I watched him stroke himself in that halting a-rythmic way he had and I wanted to get off on it, but I found myself hating him instead. Just a little bit more with every stroke.

He directed me from his lazy lean, removed from the activity, yet involved in it. When he was close the directions stopped. He closed his eyes andd I watched his whole body tense and I watched him catch his ejaculate in the palm of his hand.

I sat on the edge of the bed with the handle from a bicycle inside me and I didn't want to continue. We would not continue. He wiped his hand in a tissue and zipped himself up and he looked unruffled.

"Thanks for that."

When he walked out into the loungeroom to get a beer I knew that I would never see him again and that was Okay too. I didn't particularly like him with his nice clothes and his fetish for nurses. I liked the sex which was always detatched and slightly angry, but I didn't like waking up beside him and I had rarely slept over for this reason.

I left the bicycle handle on his clean black bedspread where it would drip and stain and he would have to wash the whole thing which would annoy him. He was expecting me to stay for a beer, but I gathered up my things and then I left.