"Blow A Kiss" by pencilneck “Sex is no replacement for intimacy,” said Dr. Everett in one of Amal’s first undergraduate Bio courses. Obviously, Amal thought as he wrote in his spiral notebook. He knew giving a blowjob was not like blowing a kiss. At nineteen, though, as his face grew hot watching Dr. Everett, he knew which one he would prefer. “Sexual activity does, however, often stimulate the mammalian hormone, oxytocin.” Dr. Everett wrote the word on the blackboard. He tapped the end of his chalk next to it. “Oxytocin – that’s with a ‘c’ not an ‘s,’ folks – is often known as the ‘trust hormone.’ It’s believed to help facilitate emotional bonds between partners.” Dr. Everett was not handsome in the conventional way, with dark circles beneath his eyes and caliper lines on either side of his frowning mouth, but he had a confident stride. When he was excited about a subject, there was a brief, delighted hitch in his otherwise austere breathing. Amal often listened for it unsuccessfully. “The hormone is released into the blood from the posterior lobe of the pituitary gland.” Dr. Everett drew a lopsided brain on the board with an arrow. “It has been suggested that oxytocin plays a role in the embryonal development of the heart. If any of you actually did the reading, last night, can you please tell the class what else can help the heart’s development?” Amal remembers this years later as he gives head in the backseat of his Honda. Oxytocin, he thinks, the steel barbells on TJ’s cock sliding across his tongue. Amal’s hand is wrapped around the base of the shaft, rough pubic hair between his fingers. Looking up, Amal watches TJ shut his eyes. Before Amal trusts TJ, he trusts the pattern of his breathing. He trusts the inconsistent if deep exhales as TJ sleeps in their motel rooms, the sound of him inhaling smoke as they share a joint, and the uneven, breathy spurts as they fuck. Amal hears the irregular gasp as his teeth accidentally scrape against the head of his cock. Mouth wet with saliva, he pulls back. His voice is huskier than he intends it to be when he says, “Sorry.” “It’s okay, man.” TJ’s eyes are still closed. He leans his head back, chin pointed toward the top of the car. “I trust you.” end