First Time to Second

(a 200-word story)

Oh. My. God.

It is, like, totally happening!!!!!

(Don’t freak out.)

Eeeeeek!

His lips are like, totally on my lips (Oh god, my lips—are they, like, all chapped and wrinkly?).

His tongue, all like, wrestling my tongue. (Oh god, my breath—is it, like, Ew?).

The tip of his finger, all up in my skin, all, down my shoulder, down my arm, down my elbow, down my wrist. (Don’t freak out.) Eeeeeek!

His breath in my ear.

His lips wrapped around…

…my finger?

(Freak!)

His arm up my shirt!

(Second, Second!!)

His finger down to the thingy, the thingy on my jeans—the button!

Under the elastic—oh god, his finger, his lips, his tongue!!!!!

His hand wrapped around my wrist, wrestling it down to his button, down to his zipper.

Something is happening…

Something is totally like, happening, like, all up in his jeans, all like, wrestling or something, like, under his zipper—OH—his zipper! His zipper is like, DOWN and like—DON’T FREAK OUT—his Thingy—OH GOD—the tip of his Thingy is UP is OUT is IN my hand all wrinkly, all elastic, all chapped like, EW—it TOTALLY feels like elbow skin.

(Eeeeeek!)

---

Hiya folks. Hope you are well.

Me, I’ve had a few kitchen fires¹ this summer, and my only tub of baking soda is the one that sits on the top shelf in the back of the fridge collecting condensation until someone (me) notices the rock hardness of the (supposedly) cardboard container and feeds it to the wastebin.

Also I’ve been getting distracted by these vocal.media “challenges” which although I shall never in a million years win, cannot help but entering².

Also, my ankle-biters have been extra bitey³ and non-nappy lately, which cuts into my writing time.

All excuses aside, I do have a main course bubbling on the stovetop. It’s almost ready, but not quite…

So to tide you over (and to keep my juices flowing while I peel my way through a mountain of potatoes, a.k.a. revision), I’ve prepared the above, one of those George Saunders dohickeys, a/an (exactly) 200-word appetizer, comprised of (exactly) 50 unique words⁴.

Hope it hit the spot. Or at least made you touch your elbow. (Wink.)

Either way, thank you for taking the time to read my work⁵.

Until we meat again,

Maegan

1. (And by kitchen fires, I mean my real job)

2. My mediocre, loser story entries can be found here.

3. Take for example this real-life scenario from earlier:

INT. HANDICAP STALL - DAY

TODD (0.92) waits in his carseat carrier while TOMMY (3) tilts his head sideways for a better view of that space between the rim of the toilet bowl and the seat.

TOMMY: See, Mommy. You do pee out of your butt.

ME (hesitant): It’s called a vagina. Or a pee-pee.

TOMMY: Oh! So your pee-pee is your butt?!

4. My 50 words were: oh. my. god. it. is. like. totally. happening don’t. freak. out. eeeeeek. his. lips. are. they. all. chapped. and. wrinkly. tongue. wrestling. or. something. breath. ew. the. tip. of. finger. skin. arm. elbow. wrist. up. on. ear. wrapped. in. hand. under. shirt. to. down. around. jeans. button. thingie. second. feels.

5. Craving more 200-word stories by yours truly? Try Morning After or Field Trip.