What love is

 

I’m the girl high school jocks dream about when they’re in the game

I’m a real cheer leader, not some flirt who wiggles an ass and then makes the boy promise marriage before she gives in.

I give in right away, taking a man in my mouth or butt, just to prove how much I approve of him.

Maybe it’s foolish, me not getting something in advance, some words of love or promise for the future.

But we all know these boys don’t meat it, even when they’re held hostage.

So I don’t ask.

Mike’s different.

He likes to use the word “love,” telling me again and again, even when I don’t always go with him to old motel.

I remember the first time we did it, in a sleeping bag on the mountain because we had no money for the motel and he couldn’t get his father’s car.

He said he loved me and stuck it in me, and I never felt so happy, even when the whole team won the state championship and I helped them celebrate in the locker room, one boy after another until I did them all.

Maybe I know down deep Mike doesn’t mean it either, yet I like hearing him say the words.

Maybe if I could talk to my folks and tell them how I feel, they might warn me against him.

But since my folks found The Lord, I can’t talk to them about anything, let alone anything like this.

I’m most scared about getting knocked up.

Mike needs to do it inside me when the jocks could careless – inside me, out side me, in my mouth or not.

I keep wondering if this is going to be the time and what I’ll do if it is, and what my folks will do with me if I come home and tell them.

I try to talk to Mike about it, trying to get him to ease off and take me in  a different way.

But he just tells me he loves me and does it his way.

I think maybe he doesn't know what love is

I know I don’t know either.