Can't Get Enough of Your Love by J.J. Murray Page B

floor as shadows walked by and his skin illuminated the apartment. He didn’t glow or anything like that, although he sweated pretty freely … or maybe it was my sweat that caused … Okay, we were both sweating like Michael Jackson at a middle school dance at an all-boys school, sliding all over each other. The sex was better than good, despite how sore my stuff was, his lips and hands touching just about every inch of my body, even my crusty toes. And the wholebodymassage he gave me afterward lasted even longer than he did. He finished and yet he kept going, taking cuddling to a whole new level, whispering to the parts of my body. At first, it was creepy. I mean, how many men have conversations with an elbow? But after a while, I wanted him to talk to my stuff again, and he was oh so willing.
    Roger is an
excellent
conversationalist.
    And we didn’t use the bed until our fifth date.
    On our fourth date, a plastic tarp covered the linoleum, and in the corner was a can of black paint and a paintbrush. I didn’t ask what they were for. I just got naked.
    He first painted my booty (that shit tickled!) and pressed me up against the wall that hid the bed. We stepped back, and he admired my booty print. I painted his ass and did the same to him, putting his booty next to mine.
    His booty was much smaller.
    â€œPaint my girls,” I whispered. He did, and now there’s a strange set of breasts hanging above my booty, like somehow I was able to twist my upper body completely around. You know I painted his stuff extra carefully, and I used his stuff to sign our names on the wall.
    Twice.
    In big block letters.
    We have been using the wall bed exclusively since then but sometimes we put it up and make love and more art at the same time.
    Dangerous. The boy is dangerous, and I like it.
    We made a list of all the places where we
might
like to do it, not that we ever would. The list includes the movie theater (back row),the movie theater (front row),a phone booth (unlighted), a phone booth (lighted), a city bus (at night), a city bus (during the day), a taxi (anytime), a restaurant (crowded), a restaurant (no crowd), the men’s room, the ladies’ room, and right up against the big window of his apartment behind the gauze. We’ve done that last one twice, and the second time I popped my head out to smile at a stranger walking by who actually smiled back.
    That was a rush.
    And afterward, we always eat something: popcorn, chips, ice cream, Easy Cheese, cake frosting, pudding, or anything else he has in his fridge. I brought over some freezer pops one night, and let’s just say that I will never have something that cold against my skin—or inside me—again. Though it did keep Roger down there a long time. Roger likes the taste of, um, freezer pops.
    While we eat, we watch old black-and-white movies with the sound turned off. Then we “nasty them up” by playing the different parts. We were watching an ancient version of
Frankenstein
one night with Roger playing the monster and me playing the sweet little girl by the pond …
    â€œHello, little girl. You look so hot,” Roger said
.
    â€œThank you. What do you use those bolts in your neck for, Mister?”
    â€œWould you like to find out, little girl?”
    â€œI don’t know. You’re awfully big. Oh, here’s a flower for you.”
    â€œI like flowers.”
    I giggled. “Would you like to deflower me?”
    â€œLet’s throw some rocks first.”
    I giggled. “So you can get your rocks off?”
    â€œOf course.”
    The monster throws a few rocks, then throws the little girl into the pond
.
    â€œYou made me all wet,” I said
.
    â€œCan I come in for a little dip?” Roger said. “You can hold on to me using my bolts …”
    And I never used to like black-and-white films.
    Yeah, Roger’s a little kinky, but deep down
I’m
a little kinky. We tried to do it