10 Reasons for Declining an Orgy at a Truck Stop Motel

1.

My dad closed out my sex talk by saying that no man would ever want to buy the cow if I gave the milk away for free. At 14, I couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled with how he could equate me to a commodity though I was still very much his baby. Instead of speaking up, I just sat there longing for my mother who left a long time ago.

In later years, I would reflect on that line, feeling guilty for finding novelty in sex without reason or attachment. During those times, I actually enjoyed not wanting someone to stick around, and became enamored with not letting someone get close enough to make me miss them when the inevitably left me. Only when the shame subsided, did I stop comparing myself to meat.

2.

At 18, I woke up to my first college roommate having sex with one of my art school’s token gay dudes. I left as quietly as possible and went over to the guys’ next door who offered me an air mattress for sleeping and a bowl for getting by. As they lined up against our mutual wall to hear the Amber’s bed shake, I decided that I would be only down for sex going on in my room if I was apart of it.

3.

My first threesome occurred at 3AM in the showers of my new school’s dorm building. There were two girls giggling behind one of the curtains as I grabbed a drink of water to ease pot smoker’s throat. They stopped when the heard me come in. One of them peaked her head out from between the curtains and after giving me the up/ down, asked if I wanted to join.

The moment I entered, I felt higher. They began unraveling me with their mouths and limbs like I was some big celestial knot and I needed so desperately to come undone. I felt the tectonic plates of my history move with each, drunk, exaggerated, touch. They finished me with my soul breathing and my body gasping for air.

My second threesome was a present given to me by two of my friends for my 26th birthday. I fell asleep on my bed 5 minutes in. They then moved to my couch.

4.

The first time I had sex with my first and last, real, love- we were in his childhood bedroom at his parents’ house, and he apologized for having huge balls, but lacking the dick to match. I told him I didn’t care with such exaltation, it was like his cock was the Declaration of Independence and I was about to sign it with my vagina. At twenty years old that’s what love meant to me. Loving for sake of loving. Loving because you had the audacity to have your hearts open at the same time. Loving because when you believe the best thing you have to give anyone is your love, nothing else matters. We spent 4 years loving like that, until time told us love meant other things like giving up when you’ve stopped being right for each other a long time ago.

5.

He finishes up inside me, sluggishly takes off the condom, rolls over and asks me what number he is. When I ask him why he wants to know, he tells me he wants to feel special.

I tell him that if you only want me for a night, you do not get that luxury.

6.

If your heart is hungry, do not lead with your genitals, it will only leave you starving.

7.

I found myself at this truck stop motel in Milford, Pennsylvania, stranded on route back to Chicago. I had been driving half of forever. I made friends with a 35-year-old contractor, and a young couple from Ohio. After several rounds of drinks at the motel’s bar, we headed back to the couple’s suite where they ended up fucking in the hot tub. They motioned over for us to join.

I looked at the girl who just cleared 21 years hopping happily on her boyfriend’s cock and I couldn’t help but think she deserved better than me after the same song playing for 500 miles and an empty kiss still on my breath.

8.

I invite the contractor upstairs. Upon arriving back to my room, the he rips off my clothes, moves me onto the bed, flips me over and goes straight for my sphincter. When I protest, he looks confused like he expected more out of the evening than joint masturbation and a fake alcohol induced orgasm. He says to me, “You’ve never done this before, have you?” I ignore the question amused that he confused lack of inspiration for innocence. I am grateful for having lack of condoms as an excuse for not letting him inside me.

9.

When I called out one of my literature professors for reading too far between the lines, he said to me sternly, “Child, everything is intentional. You will see that, once you start living with a purpose. You will understand that once you start writing well.”

I stopped doing things for the hell of it just to see if he was right.

10.

You know, it’s been roughed up some, but I still believe the best thing I have to give anyone in this world is my heart.

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