introduction

This is how we begin.


I sit on your bed in a thong, calm and alone, naked knees curled in front of me.

Sex. Very soon I will be having sex. With you. I look at your alarm clock. Fifteen minutes left?


We’ve reached your house, and we’ve haggled and weighed dispassionately whether we should fuck, like we’re discussing whether we’d like to go grab a cup of coffee.

Are you too tired? Will it be half-hearted because of this? Is there enough time? These are all questions that have been raised. All valid.


You fill the frame of your door, in your underwear too, all shoulders and legs and grey cotton briefs. You stand there, eclipsed, nothing but the damning maddening happening brute of a man I have fucked with once or twice or thrice. It’s been a while.

I smile mutely and ignore the sudden flattening wrench of excitement.


“Yeah, let’s do it,” I proclaim finally, turning towards your bedroom, as much not to look at you, as to get moving. Because I want it, I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t know how to say it any less casually.

“Okay…” you laugh, a bit unsure. “I can’t promise much, maybe just a slow fuck.”

Fine with me.

You’re questioning still, as you place one knee on the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay with the rushed time?” Then the next knee. “Do we even have enough time?” I ask, eyes reluctantly shifting to the clock. “Maybe we should just… relax together… or something…” I continue, looking over at you lamely.

Your body is upright, legs flat and bent in front of you, your suggestion is again that I just come and sit on your lap. “It may or may not lead to sex,” you say.

We may or may not be smiling just a tiny bit.

I start to lift myself, start to place my knees on either side of you. You start to pull me in close. “My alarm clock is fifteen minutes ahead, by the way,” you inform me, close to my ear.

I laugh and mumble some answer. Like I could stop at that point. With the plunge of my shirt poised fervent near your face. My dark hair thickly curtaining around. I can smell my own perfume- the salon scent in your ashy brown do- my limbs wrapped sudden and crooked around you, wide, like a cricket on a downward dragging leaf, hugging just as fierce. Your hands I find on my startled back, and it seems to me for a fleeting moment you’re clinging just as hard too. This need perches unsteady- sways wild- thumps agog- this blood reels in my ears. I feel like it must be splintering clear and pointy off my skin. I just push down further. You find the flesh of my bare cheeks spreading over your stripped legs. You reach down easy and quick, seat your firm hands underneath me- and –oh- you ply and work my ass- wind cooled from our walk, now fondled in your warm palms, so good. Your face turns a grimace. Mine must be almost plaintive. This is how. Moving and pushing against you, feeling you heat between my heating legs. Feeling your cotton-covered hardening cock pushing up, hands squeezing still. Moaning and bowing my neck down onto you for help, burying my face on the side of your neck. Parting my lips distractedly around the pale skin behind your ear, remembering to breathe. We begin.