"We need gel," I say. "No," he says, "we like it rough. We're purists, nothing but Afro-American saliva to lubricate our passion." "Please," I say. ...e's still holding still, the pain is subsiding slowly. "How do you feel," he asks after an eternity. "Better," I say. "I'm in by three inches, five more to go." I wiggle my butt. He slaps it casually. "More spit," I plead. "OK, he says, but it'll hurt again." He exits, spits some more spit onto his dick. Another thrust, another painful. Seeing all the couples around us doing some variation of whatever slow dance they could in the cramped area where our seats were, I thought that she deserved to be able to dance with someone if she wanted to, even though we weren’t actually dating. She took it and I pulled her in to me and we took whatever slow dancing steps we could for the duration of the song. We may have just been swaying like middle schoolers at a dance, but it was nice to actually dance with and hold someone. Even if it. More

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