The swing seat in the front yard creaked rhythmically. Jake held a package of Swiss cheese in his left hand. Peeling one slice he licked along the length, wormed his tongue into one of the holes. Miss Jenkins had sent him another one of those texts.
“I want ur tongue in me”
Jake flushed and bit into the Leerdammer. He reached for the soda can and popped the tab. Fizz foamed back up.
“I want u in my mouth.”
Once a day he wanked; his left hand holding the phone and scrolling through.
He ate more cheese. Looked up at the chilly sky. Moonshine, stomach flip, guilt.
“And you are sure they are from Miss Jenkins?” the Principal had asked.
“Yes.” Jake looked down at the floor, dry mouthed, heart thumping, too far in now. He’d always waited to see her lush silhouette framed in the window. His fingers would text words that he hoped for, and then he’d go home, check his phone, be surprised at her rudeness, and feel his cock stiffen.
Insomnia of an Elderly French Designer