Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 106

Day 92: July 9th, Friday

My husband would have blushed if I told him how many men I had slept with, both around my age or older, exes or casuals. Even I couldn't remember how many. Was it five? Eight? Thirty? No...It should be more than that. Some were intimate, but a few were rougher either on me or my doing. Threesomes and orgies, bodies tangling across the sheets, sweat, laughs, and silence after that, just trying to forget the world's troubles as our common idiosyncrasy; the fucking a mere afterthought. There are hardly any babies born nowadays. You could say some people are compensating.

I did it, I thought to myself, lying on my back on that bunk bed, staring at the ceiling. The clock struck five in the morning, the sun still not out, and I was too lazy to get up.

So...that was sex. Am I supposed to feel something? A little sore, maybe? Wait. There was a little flutter on my stomach (might be hunger), a glow on my cheeks (room was a hotbox), but I still felt like nothing drastically changed on my body. Don't get me wrong. I did enjoy the heck of what occurred the previous night. Some parts I had expected from watching porn, then other parts where I did not expect: too much sweating, the occasional accidental hitting among headboards, elbows, and windows, and then the weight, especially with how heavy a guy can be on top of you for too long (It was fucking uncomfortable like I cracked a rib).

But then again, was it supposed only to last like four minutes? Perhaps this was when I should stop comparing some pornstars' god-like endurance to real-life men. They couldn't possibly do it for two hours straight...right? Maybe everyone was telling the truth. People's first times tended to be underwhelming, lacking, and I realized it wasn't as it's cracked up to be. What if I did it again, knowing what I'd expect? Would things change? An idea for another time.

Too much hype killed itself, I thought, chuckling.

Peter must have felt my chest rising, turning around to face me as he stirred awake. His arm shot out and draped around my chest, hand nestling at the crook of my armpit, pulling me close, his lips caressing my neck. I smiled, though I wasn't in the mood for what he wanted.

"So..." he whispered, "Last night was...."

It took me a moment to respond, partly because I didn't realize he wanted me to. I broke the awkward silence. "...was good."

Peter smiled, though his eyes were closed. "Yeah. Been wanting to do that with you. Sorry about the condom."

"Hey. We have an early start today," I said, looking at the clock again. It had already been fifteen minutes past five.

"For what?" He murmured, eyes still closed, half-asleep.

"Harrisburg, Peter. Was last night that good that you forgot?" I asked jokingly, raised my eyebrow.

"Ha. I wish."

"Hey! Was that a diss? No? Did you mean the good part of the forgetting part?"

"Bah, you know what I mean."

For a second, I had thought of telling Peter what I saw last night. Did I imagine it? It seemed so real. I glanced at the cabin door, a split-second glimpse of a head peering in with Logan's shocked and embarrassed face. Here, I thought it was him again, coming back to check on us, but it was only my imagination and after image from last night. Was he truly there? I decided not to tell Peter. It was going to be awkward if I did.

"We need to wake the others," I said, changing the subject. "The city's only over those hills by a few miles, and then we'd be in unknown territory. We need to plan our route."