I had a fantasy about us meeting at a carnival. Makes sense, dear spouse–carnival is for the flesh. The fun before the asceticism of Lent. I’ve never been Catholic, and neither have you. But debauchery is inside all of us.
I love you, and I would love you also if you worked for a carnival.
I was living in a small town, and there was not a lot to do. Carnival coming to town was a welcome distraction. Yes, I went by myself.
I saw you working there. We smiled, and I asked, “How are you doing?” We spoke for a long time that first evening. Your long hair was beautiful, and I liked your awkwardness. I didn’t know until later that you were much older than me, or anything about your magical powers.
That night after I walked home from the carnival, I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake, thinking of you and things we said to one another. You touched my hand, when we said goodbye. It was so easy to imagine you body on mine.
The sun came up. I needed to sleep, so I slipped my fingers into my cunt and rubbed myself, thinking of you. Yes, your hard dick ramming into me again and again. I was wet from those hours thinking of you.
The birds were chirping at the dawn, as I rubbed myself to orgasm and came quietly, wanting you inside of me.
I returned to the carnival after dinner and found you.
“So glad to see you again,” you said to me. You put your arm around me and I held you, trembling with lust.
We went on the ferris wheel, and we kissed in the sky. You slipped your hand into my unzipped jacket and touched my tummy gently. I moved your hand to my breast, and you kissed me again, slipping your tongue into my mouth.
“God, this is happening just how I want it,” I thought. Strange how good it felt, like a dream.
I needed touch, and you did too. “I need to finish some things,” you said. “Will you meet me at midnight, by the bleachers?”
I stared at the sky as I waited, seeing the glow of the stars, and thought of a future with you. Could I become a carnival worker too, and travel with you? For now I was stuck in this small town, caring for my mom. She was dying. No way could I run away with you–no one else would care for her.
I loved her more than anything in the world. But my world was too small–I could feel myself sacrificing my life for hers. I longed for freedom and the pleasure of your attention and your body.
At midnight you arrived and held me. We made a bed of our clothes and lay on the ground. You fucked me hard, and I looked up at your serious expression, as you filled me again and again. My body thrummed with joy.
A feeling swelled in my body. The feeling was: This is what I’m alive for.
It had been a long time since anyone had been this close to me. We’d known one another for a very short time, but you were leaving town in two days, to move on to the next carnival location.
Your body felt like a cozy home, and I felt safe with you. You ejaculated deep inside my cunt. Then you rubbed my body until I came on your hand. You were attentive; I felt deeply known in the half-dark.
I held you, and we rested and dozed.
“Why are you going to the carnival again?” my mom asked the next day.
“Something to do,” I told her.
“Is that all?” she asked.
“Well, I met someone I really like,” I said, smiling.
“Oh, how lucky,” she said. Sweet mama always wanted the best for me. I thought of the children I might have one day, who she would never know.
Mama thought of carnival: hay smells and animals, a yelling man who would guess your weight, rides, a tent with oddities, games of chance and skill. It had been a long time.
She was in the homestretch of death–many things she would never experience again. She was grateful to have raised the beautiful child who was me.
That third night, I found you again. You’d been thinking of me and what you wanted too. Maybe you should leave the carnival and settle in this town, to be a partner to me and love me as well as you could.
But you knew there would be no jobs. Needing to find work and a place to stay was difficult–there was a reason you were a carnie, moving around. Normal life didn’t work for you. Especially in a town like this, no one would want to hire someone of your race. You would be suspect wherever you went.
We returned to our place under the bleachers, and I sucked your dick for a moment as you shivered with joy. Then you fucked me again and planted your semen as deeply as you could, as if to leave the semen with me, when you had to go.
The following year when you returned to town, I found you joyfully. You were surprised to see the baby in my arms–I moved the green blanket to show you her little face. Then you realized this child was yours also, and your knees buckled. I’d named her Samantha.
You’d dreamed of me as you were away and endured many struggles of health and life. The thought of me somewhere out in the world helped you stay strong and keep body with soul–you stayed alive partly in hopes that you’d see me again one day.
And you always wanted to be a parent. You realized you should stay and raise Samantha with me. You walked away from your job, not saying goodbye, grabbing your backpack.
You gave Samantha a magical goldfish that shone like a nightlight and would never die. The fish was not confined to water–it could fly around in the air like an orange fairy. It flew around Samantha’s face, and she smiled a baby smile.
Then we moved to a city where no one gave us shit about race or gender.