Kate Carey

Country Girls Make Do,

you said as we looked up at the starless sky,
In a soccer field not far from my house.
Neither of us were country
and only one of us was girl
but for tonight it felt
like behind this wall, we were
sneaking behind the tractors to fool around in secret.

“You’re kinda being a hoe right now.”
you giggled earlier between kisses in your car,
where my fervor of want grew-
my hands circling your waist,
your face,
your love handles, with oomph.

You were worried about getting arrested.
I was worried about offending you,
so my hands did not stray
as much as I wanted to grasp your breasts in my hands.

We parked by the field and walked into it.
Soft grass at our feet,
warm summer night with a breeze.
Laying on the ground we kiss more + more,
hands snaking around like a train gathering speed
wanting somewhere to go.

Asking if it was ok,
my tongue shimmied to your neck
You asked me what you tasted like
and offguard, I answered “You taste like you,”
too busy drinking sweet sweat and salt
to discern the individual notes.
Eventually I gather the courage to take down your bra top,
look up at you for confirmation
plunging my tongue on the hardened button.
I slithered over + up,
sucking for a few moments before
running along the full berry.

Your eyes are closed
and I ask if I did something wrong,
So worried I was gonna trigger you or make you feel weird.

“I’m just trying to focus on the sensations.”
you say in a sweet whisper
so I suck at your breast some more.?

My hands trace your stomach
and body and tease over your pants.
Waiting for the go ahead.
I coulda spent hours just tasting your titties
but we heard a loud sound to the right of us.
Instead I pull the lace up over your beautiful boobs.
You say this is as far as you want to go right now
So I drape my arm around you and kiss your cheek.

With you cuddled against me,
your twinkling voice was a song
I could put on repeat until the record scratched.
Moments in sweet summer softness.

30-year-old feeling butterflies.
Strangely, it is as natural as air.
I didn’t puberty like most
so this feels like a teenage memory I can now claim as mine.

I chuckle to myself the next day,
remembering how you rolled 6 feet away from me to fart,
or how when you leaned over top to kiss me from above
your glasses came off, hitting me in the forehead.
Things you were embarassed by
but which endear you to me even more.

I knew this was what love was:
country girls stealing moments,
making wishes with their lips.

V

We are so gay she French-    
braided my hair in her room,   
after much giggling and talking,   
they fishtailed it.
She ordered Bobby’s Burger Palace (it’s ok) 
and we ate on her bed.
We laughed a little, sang, danced   
in bed, kissed and cuddled.
It was so nice-    
with her cute fairy lights at the head of the bed    
we took photos with her fancy camera
They put on the good lighting   
a la Sears Photo studio.    
She took quick time release photos:  
a billion bursts of every movement we made 
in the span of seconds,   
a slow downed time capsule of our   
slow burn feelings:    
the anticipation and release. 

We took turns.
She asked if she could spoon me now    
her hands running down the length  
of my body sideways,   
her lips on my neck,    
their fingertips grazing my arms and curves.
It felt nice.
It felt perfect.
We kissed a lot-     
no tongue but frequent and cute and long.

I arrived by lyft because it was gross out   
and left by lyft to stay longer.
It was sweet + cute + nice.
Laying down, wrapping my arms around her,   
holding her hand,   
learning to trust myself to make a move.
I’m getting more comfortable around them  
and I like it a lot.
I like them a lot.
~0~