Pins: A Novel by Jim Provenzano

Author:Jim Provenzano
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780967238203
Publisher: Myrmidude Press
Published: 1999-11-14T13:00:00+00:00

“And Joseph dreamed a dream,

and he told it to his brethren,

and they hated him yet the more.”

Genesis, 37:5

They knew all the moves, they’d just never done them naked, but they knew each other’s bodies, knew their limits, how far to pull a leg and grip an elbow and how long it can last before another shift exposes slowly with no whistles to stop a visit along an underarm always too rushed past by a mouth or nose. Now he could see that mole on a left lat, an island in a milky muscle sea. Instead of grabbing, he licked. No more secret stolen drops. He could lick long and slow, remain inside and over every corner and curve. He grabbed tight, holding him, humping him, until he peeled him off, muttering, “Stop.” “What?” “Stop wrestling.” He grabbed his wrists, held him, kissed him again, as if pouring a slow wet love into him, to slow him down, hold back the rush. He straddled him, humped his cock up along the crevice of his butt. He let his cock bap up and down with every one of his thrusts, until he grabbed it, tugging it closer to him. He jerked his neck up from the pillows, opening his mouth in a wet silent shout. He aimed for teeth and got tongue. He caught the first glop like a grape. They laughed as it happened. He felt a flood of relief as jets of him exploded on his face, his neck, licking it up, pulling him down, sucking his face, gluing himself closer. Entangled, encrusted with each other’s fluids, they dozed for what felt a night, a lifetime, as if they levitated over fields and plains. Half-awake, he feared movement, for it would initiate departure. The light was gray, half-night as they lay in silence. He was asked if he wanted to shower. “No,” he whispered, holding his sticky belly like an unfinished painting, a souvenir for the ache inside. “I love your back muscles,” he said as he kissed his back. “Latissiumus dorsi.” “I love your nose. It’s so horsey.” “Horsey? Fuck you.” “Next time.” He nestled closer. “You know, your nose muscles flare when you’re mad.” “Nose muscles?” He kissed his nose. “Snortissimus dorsi.” They kissed more and coughed and shared spit and extracted hairs from their lips and swallowed and dry-kissed each other. They dressed slowy, traded clothes. He led him to the door, holding hands solemnly as they descended the steps. He remembered the first time he’d been in this room, wondered about all this. He remembered climbing these stairs months ago, his partner’s skin peeking from his sweats. What would it have been like if they’d been able to just date like straight kids? There never would have been a thought about befriending the others and no one would have been hurt, no one would. They kissed again, slow and tender, the skin around lips chafed. Descending the porch steps, walking backwards as the sidewalk took him

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