We Need to Leave to Get the U-Haul but My Fiancé is Fucking Me Instead

Written by Aarron Sholar as a guest submission!

We need to leave to get the U-Haul but my fiancé is fucking me instead. That’s it. He let me sleep in until 9:30am and we have to leave at 10am. I just graduated from school and have been living out of a plastic tub in his closet for two months because I got a new job in Minneapolis right out of school, and, well, school was over an hour away from the job. My fiancé’s apartment is 20 minutes away. An easy choice. The day we rent out a truck to go back towards the school and move the rest of my stuff into storage, he lets me sleep in. He’s waking me up— giving me kisses and a quick back rub. Next thing I know, he’s right above me, kissing behind my ear and breathing into it. He’s pulling me to the edge of the bed and now we have ten minutes before we need to leave. I’m anxious. I’m anxious because our pickup location was supposed to be in the same town as the school, but they didn’t have any trucks, so we have to drive 40 minutes out of the way to pick up the truck and then drive it to the school. I had to pay $13 extra because I went over on miles. He’s pulling me to the bed and I drown out my own thoughts of the time and needing to leave right away with my moans. Louder, louder. It’s 9:30am but I don’t care, I just want to moan the anxiety out of me. What good does being anxious do? I breathe quicker, I cry, I worry unnecessarily. Why do that when I could lay face down on the bed and enjoy this moment between us. We have the truck reserved, I tell myself as he thrusts faster, even if we’re five minutes late, our truck is there and reserved. This makes sense but it doesn’t. I don’t know why. But I can choose. I can choose to worry or enjoy. I choose to enjoy— our relationship, my body, his body, these five minutes we have together before the chaos of moving and driving around southern Minnesota. We needed to leave to get the U-Haul but my fiancé fucked me instead and we are arriving at the U-Haul at 10:59am, a minute before our appointment time of 11am, and our truck is still there, and everything is fine.

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Aarron Sholar is a transgender writer whose essays have been nominated for The Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His debut memoir is forthcoming from Atmosphere Press. He holds an MFA from MSU, Mankato and a BA from Salisbury University. He serves as the Prose Editor for Beaver Magazine.

Contact him at aarron.t.sholar@gmail.com!