Bright Red

We're in the barn -- not ours, of course, the bride's father's cousin's barn -- and all that shit they say in movies about fucking in a barn is a lie, the hay isn't even close to enough cushion and it smells like horseshit even when it's clean and there's no soft sexy light you don't bring in yourself. It's hard and dusty and you'll get splinters in your ass even though you keep your pants on and your ass doesn't hardly touch the wood, and there's nothing but hay to sit on, and that shit'll give you splinters too. Not that Teddy would ever complain. He's a man that don't need much and never has.

"We been gone too long." I'm throbbing in Teddy's mouth and I can't hardly breathe. "They'll come looking."

He sucks hard, like he's trying to drink me, puckering his lips and staring in my eyes. He pops me out of his mouth just before I come and gives me a closed-mouth smile. The light of the too-bright lantern turns his face into a dramatic mask; he looks like a Batman villain.

"I ought to slow down then." He climbs up my torso, straddles me like he's gonna ride. I thrust upward and he just laughs and sits roughly on me. His jeans on my bare cock hurts in the best way. "Your little slut would love the show."

I can see his cock straining against the crotch of his pants, the light smattering of hair on his chest, the dark mop on his head. He's heavier than he used to be and I can't move at all, not in any way that matters. He's got lipstick on, bright red, smeared across his mouth like blood. He wiggles his hips and I groan because what else can I do?

I shouldn't have tested him, I knew was crazy, always has been. It's our friend's wedding, the last single one of our little clan apart from Teddy and me, and he has a lot of cousins that came out to see the baby of the family get married. One of them was a redhead with the lipstick to match, and she and I...well, we'd been asked to leave the dance floor. Teddy was watching us, and I wanted him to see it, to be jealous, to hate her and want me the way he had back in college. Needed to show him what I wanted, or at least what he couldn't give me. Needed to show myself, too, maybe.

I don't know where he got it from, how he knew what it would do to me. All I know is he cornered me by the decorative outhouses that these fucking hillbillies had rented for the ceremony and pulled it out of his pocket and applied with no mirror, nothing, just like the redhead had done, like a professional. And then he leaned against the door and undid his suit jacket and his shirt and his fly and blew a kiss at me from those painted lips surrounded by that obscene five-o'clock shadow. And then I was on my knees, tugging at his pants and stroking with my mouth wide open, hungry for a taste, and he shoved me to the ground, and then told me to get the fuck up, because we were going to the barn.

"Come on, Teddy." Thinking about it was a mistake; my prick is in real pain now. "Please."

He reaches into his pocket again.

The red tip slides out of the tube as he twists the bottom of it, and licks his lips and he wipes his mouth on his dusty white sleeve until his lips are clean again, with just a faint pink tint around them, a fading bruise. I watch him as he does it again, slow, the color rolling on like fresh paint on new drywall, perfect, not a millimeter out of line, not a single slip of the finger, until his lips are perfectly coated.

"Fuck that and fuck you, Carl," he says. He scoots down my thighs and sits on my knees. "Fuck you both."

His pink tongue slips out over his bottom lip, making it glisten, and my hands are a blur on my cock and it's only half a minute or so before I'm squirting all over my own hand and belly, and he just watches me, tense and hard and ready to strike, like an injured snake, a wild thing in pain.