In my Junior year of high school, I dated a girl named Summer 1which may or may not be the season after which she’s named, but I’m protecting her anonymity cause I guess she’s married with kids ...continue for a few months. This was before I’d had sex, and — odd though it may seem now — I was in no rush to change that. I really liked foreplay-style sex. Oral, fingers, handjobs, licking, biting, even dry-humping. I still love all of that, sometimes even more than sex itself (depending on the partner).
Summer and I spent many a late night, parked outside of a friend’s house, or one of our houses, goin’ nuts on each on each other. Over time, as with most relationships, we fell into a pattern. We’d makeout for a bit, then I’d pull her top off (or just grope her underneath her top if we weren’t in a place where removing tops was a good idea), she’d start jerking me off, and I’d start fingering her. After a few minutes, she’d push my hand away so she could go down on me and then she’d blow me until I came. About 30% of the time, she’d just swallow and be done with it. About another 65% of the time, she’d just pull off, spit it out the side of The Bus (or wherever was nearby) and we’d makeout a bit afterwards. Every once in awhile, let’s call it 5% of the time, she thought it would be hilarious to spit it back in my mouth. I did a little grin-and-bear-it by just swallowing. I mean, if I can’t handle the taste, it’s unfair that she should have to, right? Fair is fair, I say. I’m still not sure if she was hoping I would just immediately spit it out so she could respond with “SEE??” but it just never happened, and we never really discussed it – she’d just laugh and we’d lie there and light up our cigarettes.
Oddly enough, she didn’t like getting oral. At the time, I wasn’t quite as fond of it as I am now — I’d do it, but it wasn’t this ravenous “OMG RUB AND GRIND IT ON MY TONGUE! NOW!” mentality I have these days. So, for better or worse, our usual routine pretty much stuck to the same ol’ thing nearly every time. In retrospect, it seems a little strange how often her and I just had unfettered access to each other – no parents around, friends didn’t give a fuck that we put a jacket over my crotch, everything was just chill.
I wish I could tell you how our relationship ended. I truly don’t recall. I know it wasn’t anything huge – neither of us cheated on each other, neither of us got wrapped up in a scandal, and I don’t think we had some big moment where it all came to a head. I just remember being unfulfilled, and I probably said some shit that was.. unkind, or at the very least rude and impolite. To the best of my recollection, it was a series of smaller rude/impolite remarks I’d made over the course of a few days. I’m really not trying to skirt responsibility here – I’m about 99.5% certain we broke up because I was an asshole – but I honestly don’t remember what was the tipping point, I just recall it was a series of smaller things over a period of time.
Summer called me one night and we had a long talk. She wasn’t happy about the aforementioned rude/impolite remarks I’d made in recent times. I remember trying to talk my way out of it a little bit – trying to plead my case as not being a complete asshole, but I wasn’t trying very hard because I just didn’t feel very passionately about us. The conversation ended with her saying “I hope you find what you’re looking for out there, and I hope you learned what not to say to your girlfriend”. She hung up, and I was single. And upset. I didn’t mean to actually hurt this woman’s feelings, or make her angry, but it’s not like I did anything to prevent that; I respect her to this day for knowing when to call it quits.
I needed a cigarette. But it was 11pm at night, and I was out of cigarettes. I couldn’t go to my usual haunts (like a busy grocery store, or a convenience store in the morning) because I still wasn’t 18. Since my step-sister smoked, I figured she’d have a few half-smoked cigarettes out back. In the smoking world, we call those “re-fry” cigarettes or “re-fries” for short.
Rooting around in our outside ashtray, I found a 3/4 re-fry menthol. It was probably 2-3 days old at that point, but I didn’t care. I lit it up and just bared with the shitty taste to get my nicotine fix. As I’m smoking, I see a light in the corner of my eyes. It was coming from my mom’s bedroom. I don’t know why I looked. I really wish I hadn’t. But, I did, cause there was so much light.
I look over and her sliding glass door blinds are fully open. All the room lights are on. My stepdad is lying down on the bed. My mom is standing over him. STANDING over him, blowing him. It looked like this… 2I can’t draw for shit, so I grabbed some stock vectors of people and tried to animate this, cause I wasn’t about to videotape two weirdos ...continue
… and I almost screamed. I did NOT need to see that. But, also, I was thinking “who the fuck blows like that?”. I got confused. I thought maybe I saw it wrong. I must’ve been imagining things. I looked back, and she was blowing him while jumping up and down, like this :
…and this time I actually did say out loud “OHHH HOLY SHIT!” and just ran back inside. I haven’t a goddamned clue what kinda weird shit 50-somethings get up to in the blowjob department, but, to this day, I’ve never seen anyone give a FUCKING JUMPING BLOWJOB. That doesn’t even look comfortable.
I ran upstairs and tried to block out the image, and I watched some happy sitcom TV to get me to bed without nightmares. But there’s things in life you just can’t un-see. For me, it’s seeing my once-innocent mother giving a standing, then jumping, blowjob to my fat, hairy, grey-pubed stepdad.
Footnotes [ + ]
|1.||↩||which may or may not be the season after which she’s named, but I’m protecting her anonymity cause I guess she’s married with kids now or something|
|2.||↩||I can’t draw for shit, so I grabbed some stock vectors of people and tried to animate this, cause I wasn’t about to videotape two weirdos doing this shit instead. It’s not entirely accurate, because the reality was that they were both butt-ass naked. It’s close enough to get the idea across, I think.|