Stabs at Happiness by Todd Grimson Read Free Book Online

little schoolgirl picked up in a van, or some L.A. teen named Brad in a Dennis Cooper novel. You have to be a badass to let yourself be fucked like this, squirming, his shame redeemed in the abandon of the Flesh, the Flesh, the Flesh.
    He moans, “Ohhh, ohhh… oh fuck.”
    Nikki feels like she’s fucking a beautiful boy who exists in space and time while also, in some blurry way, another boy who looks almost exactly like this one but who’s semi-invisible and exists in slow motion… kind of superimposed. Justin has all kinds of poetic expressions set and reset and float above his face.
    Obviously, a dildo has no nerve endings or anything, but it’s not like Nikki has to imagine something else is going on. Fucking is an intensely physical act no matter what. It involves all the same sweat and grabbing and stuff so yeah, it’s physical. Penetration is obviously physical by nature. She doesn’t pretend she’s a boy or anything. This kind of fucking illuminates other things about the act.
    Also she in general has very little trouble achieving orgasm, so yeah she can cum when fucking like this, general crotch pressure and mere participation in the spectacle is totally enough. She loses herself at some point with a little cry in some kind of interior wave.
    So there you go.
    There is brown shit stuck to the head of the black dildo when it finally slides out of the deeply-plumbed hole. It stinks but Nikki sort of appreciates the smell. It’s so organic.
    â€œI feel empty now,” Justin says, face slack, missing having his ass full.
    â€œSlut,” she says, hot smile when she looks into his eyes. He smiles back but not as hard, he’s a little removed, private, unable to process the new data yet. He can’t think hard in this condition.
    Later on they’re lying together cooling down, and Justin seems so wiped. He notices that she notices and says, “I took a 5milligram diazepam from my mom’s to serve as a muscle relaxer when we first came up here.”
    Nikki’s sort of pissed off by this. She understands, but… Jesus. Justin’s eyes are huge.
    â€œDon’t go. Just lie here with me. Hold me, okay?”
    She plays with his hair as he falls asleep. Some music she’s not crazy about is playing in his bedroom but so what? She doesn’t feel like moving yet.
    Nikki lies there holding him for maybe an hour. He’s breathing regularly. She feels lazy but finally rises and gets dressed. She goes to find the bathroom and Justin’s mother is home, walking around in sheer black panties and bra, supersexy, smoking a cigarette, mascara smudged like she’s been crying.
    Wow, she’s really drunk.
    She says, “My name is Susan Chen.” Yeah, she’s sexy as hell. She gazes without comment at the strap-on dildo and its harness which Nikki is holding – she had taken it to the bathroom with her to wash the impacted shit off the dildo head before putting it in her bag.
    When she gets it that Nikki wants to leave she says she’ll call a car service for her. This is good because sometimes it’s hard to get a cab in some parts of Brooklyn this time of night.
    Attention drawn first by the smell of his cologne, Nikki discovers a shirtless black man lying on the couch who looks like he’s brooding, staring without speaking at the beigey wall. He gives off some hint of a bad adrenalin vibe, drama suspended maybe soon to re-ensue.
    She gets dressed and takes the elevator downstairs, and then waits outside there in East Williamsburg for the car service to show up. There’s nobody around on the street… though some cabs pass by, end of shift, not even glancing at her.
    Spooky atmosphere. She wills herself to be brave.
    It takes a while to get home. Maybe she’s pretty stoned, ‘cause she finds herself lying sideways in the ganja-smelling backseat gazing out at weirdly-lit scenery all the way, loud sub-woofer