Page 21 of He Likes it Spicy


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“Sam… we shouldn’t.”

“Quiet.” I stroke him softly. “Cum for me. Quick. I want it. And I’m not performing until I’ve got what I want.”

Thor holds the vanity to steady himself. I’m surprised the old thing doesn’t collapse.

I stare up at him, mouth agape, begging for his cum.

When it’s clear he wants more, I slowly fill my mouth with him. I open wide, taking as many inches of the man as I can. The salty taste of his flesh slides along my tongue, pressing toward the back of my throat.

I hold the belt loops of his jeans, bobbing up and down and moaning words that vibrate his shaft and make him tremble and quake and whisper my name until—

An explosion so wonderful that I close my eyes and watch the colors flash in the darkness. I swallow everything, toes curling, knees hurting, and lips sealed tightly around his perfect cock.

Just beyond the curtains, people rush by, working hard.

In here, on my knees, I hum and smile up at my carnival romance.

Thor’s chest heaves, and he runs his fingers along my chin. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

We practically run out of the tent after the show. We stop at my trailer to grab my bag of sleepover essentials, and I stop to talk to a little girl calling out for Valkyrie. She tells me that my performance was the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen and that someday she’s going to be a dancer just like me…sometimes, this gig ain’t so bad. After that, we're in Thor’s truck and tearing out of the fairgrounds before Charles even realizes I'm gone.

Tomorrow night is the final show for the fair. By now, we've got everything dialed down; I don't need to be there until show time. That gives me all night and all day tomorrow with Thor…

After that, the circus packs up and heads out. Another town, another county fair. Some new place with jerks who can't keep their hands to themselves... the same carnival games, cheap prizes, and fried foods.

But no Thor Larsen.

What happens to our summer fling when that time comes?

It's a full moon tonight, a little cooler for July. I hang halfway out the passenger side window, watching the moonlit fields roll by like ghostly waters.

"You were incredible," Thor says. "I could watch you do that every night and never grow tired of it."

"That makes one of us."

"What do you mean?"

I sit back and stare at him. Thor has one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the center divider. Soft blue cab lights illuminate his blocky, handsome face. He smiles like life is simple. Every time I look at him, it does feel simple…

"I've been doing the same routine for almost two years," I say. "Trust me, you'd get tired of it, too."

"So change the routine."

I shake my head and laugh. "Charles is a creative dictator. Maybe that's too harsh, but it's his show. His decisions. Even if he agreed to switch it up, I'd be running every leap and step up the chain like before. It’s not worth it."

Thor shrugs. "So quit."

"You have a simple answer for everything, don't you?"

"Take it from an old man. There's really only one rule in life that means anything. One guideline."

I lean over the seat and clasp my hands in prayer. "Please, oh wise old sage, impart your ancient wisdom upon me."

Thor smiles at me as we pull onto the long dirt driveway up his hill. The big poplars flank us; beams of moonlight flood the spaces between them like street lamps. "Do what fulfills you, forget everything else."

I think about the pictures in his entryway. Thor's life is a meandering line of chasing fulfillment. He's retired but possesses a glint in his eyes belonging to a man thirty years younger—a man with a million passions and his whole life ahead of him. How many more pictures will fill his walls?

What sort of pictures will I have in my home someday?