Dead End

A trail of headlights cuts through the dark of a desolate stretch of road
that he catches through the old farmhouse window
alerting him to the excitement of unexpected company

It has been a few months since anyone has ventured down to the dead end
that sits on his expansive, inherited property

And his thirst has been building in the absence

The prospect of what he might find is calling
and he immediately slips into his rubber boots

The girls have kept their activities private to the circle
to avoid the unnecessary messiness that such a reveal would entail
In the mounting desire of their mutual appreciation
and unexpected, but complimentary appetites
they have finally found an evening to disengage from the others

“Shit”, Samantha says from the wheel, after a worrisome thud
forces her to swerve to the edge of the old dirt road. "That was close."

He pulls a sizable blade from the kitchen counter,
the flood of its experience lending itself to the anticipation
that has slowly provoked the growing hardness in his denim overalls
He is hopeful that the large rocks he has liberated from the property
and placed on the road will do the required trick to satisfy his treat

Monica sparks a joint, and takes a deep haul
 “You’ve done a good job at getting into my head”, Monica confesses.

Samantha props the passed joint into the corner of her mouth and takes Monica’s hand pulling her to body and to lips.  She pauses to take two quick puffs and butts it out.  “You have no idea how wet I am right now."

He watches from the edge of the field, hidden by the brush
- a pleasant twist to the festivities, but not without complication
A little time required to figure out how he can adapt to these changing circumstances
If she were with a boy the chase would already be on...
but it would be a shame to dispose of one
before getting the chance to experience the other

Across the hood of the car,
Samantha sprawls, jeans at ankles
absorbing each delivered lick
her unbridled response
echoing through the quiet of the adjoining fields

They are now within his reach,
hulking behind Monica wedged between Samantha's knees
-quiet and still, conflicted

His strong arm curls around Monica’s throat – blade also still in hand,
being careful with enough pressure to just make her pass out
but firm enough that she is unable to scream,
Not wanting to alarm the other in her moment of decadence (and his),
he slides his stubby fingers inside of her
keeping her occupied in that heightened state
while lowering Monica (now unconscious) to the ground

Samantha’s body undulates to the work of his unsuspecting hand,
her closed eyes travelling the secretive threads of memory and arousal,
until the intensity draws her eyes open and...

If he is patient and disciplined,
this might be able to last a few days.