Disclaimer: Rent is Jonathan Larson's.
We were all together in the city, a fluctuating blend of myself, Roger, his girlfriend(s) who didn't often stay more than a few days or hours until the one who never planned to leave (until she planned to Leave), Mark, his college roommate Benny and their guru Thomas call-me-Tom Collins. It was winter, and snowing. I had been lying in bed for days with a fever while Mark, adorably devoted, brought me soup and tea until I was sitting up by myself, in fact was fine.
Mark laughed and kissed me. "Maybe you're fine now," he ceded. "I think I still want you staying in my bed for another day at least, though."
I smiled my best seductive smile and moved my chest a little. "Is that what the doctor ordered?" I asked. Mark kissed me again. He had dry lips and he fixed his glasses after kissing me. After all this time, he blushed. It wasn't our first kiss. "I must taste disgusting, I haven't brushed my teeth in days."
He chuckled. "Yeah," he murmured, "you do." We laughed. "But I still find you extremely attractive."
We kissed again. "Do you want to do more?" I asked.
It wasn't exactly the best sex. I feel bad about that. When I asked Mark if he wanted to do more, I was thinking about having a dick-induced orgasm for the first time in half a decade. I wasn't really thinking about him. I was thinking more about my vagina than his penis. Admittedly I thought about his penis in my vagina, but more in vaginal terms. I was also thinking about being a twenty-one-year-old virgin (as far as anyone knew) and still feeling like Roger's innocent baby cousin.
"Maureen…" Mark looked into my eyes for maybe three seconds. Then he kissed me. "Yes."
I'll spare you the details. It was clumsy. My vagina isn't the neatest; I had never really thought about it before. I'm Jewish. So is my hair. Curly, thick, dark and wavy, and not just on my head. When it wasn't damp (when wasn't it damp?) it fluffed out to cover about everything in a two-inch radius.
After about two minutes of his awkward thrusts, I realized this wasn't a strange type of foreplay. "Mark, that's not my vagina."
"What?"
"That's not the hole, Mark."
"Jesus."
"Here…"
In the end it took both of us to guide him into me, and I realized that he would feel like a failure and lose confidence, so I did the only thing I could think of. I faked it. I moaned and rubbed and cried his name. Mark's face was splotchy from exertion, and when he finished he slumped half-on and half-off me and talked about how amazing it had been. I lied my agreement.
Is it supposed to feel amazing? It kind of hurt. Mark's a lucky guy. Well, I say that, but I consider all guys "lucky guys" as far as cock size goes. I mean, those things are huge! They don't look huge. They look kind of weird, actually, like everything fell out and it's just… dangling there. But when it's inside you, something hard and hot, it feels bigger. There's not a lot of room down there.
I didn't know what to think. Maybe it would be better the next time. But I couldn't expect Mark to make it better. He had liked it, and thought I had liked it, the first time. I would have to make it better.
Already I was beginning to think, guys and sex, it's so personal it'll never be good.
the end
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