It takes a few deep breaths for her to get used to the feeling. The pressure. The stretching open wider. The intentional goring. She growls loudly into the pillow and clenches the bedsheet in her fists. When I was much younger I might have expressed my concern for her discomfort by asking if she was ok, if we needed to stop, if she wanted me to take it out, but I’ve matured, and, besides, the worst is already over: the head is in.
Cheryl pushes back against me and all of me slides into her. She lets out a long dryyy raspy throat-heavy moan. That’s a girl, I say, then take hold of her hair and yank her head back like the reins of a horse.
Cheryl is fifty-two. She looks closer to seventy. I don’t care. This is her first time trying anal. I’m not convinced, but I go along with act. That’s all they want sometimes. Someone to believe their lies.
We connected through an online dating app less than four hours ago. This is how modern middle-aged adults link up these days. Cheryl’s obese husband stands fully clothed next to the bed, breathing heavily, recording our depravity with his phone.
After I finish in her mouth, I light a cigarette and dress and count the money again.
Robert Longwood 