Simple question. What’s the first thing you think about when asked to do a little quick association with the word sex?

No word, that’s usually how it goes. When I hear from you I know what it’s for and I know what the compliments mean. There’s nothing to be so sly about. Why you tip toe around it, I just don’t understand. It’s a fun and spontaneous fuck, what’s the harm in admitting it? You were probably sitting there wondering what do with your time. I’m sure the curve of my hips came to my mind, or the shameless way I kiss when on top of you, it had to be something. I almost said no and while my bed did comfort me I didn’t want to be cradled and soothed by the onset of slumber. Instead I prepared in that way all girls do when they know they’re going to get lucky. You need to have pretty hair to only have it pulled later from behind, lotion up those body parts that need to feel divine as pressure is added to all the right places, minty breath for his exploitative tongue and some chap stick for the reunion of lips.

I decipher your words as you give me a tour of your house, everything is leading to the most important room of all, the one with your bed. I disregard the mess, since boys will be boys and I’m sure you didn’t give it much thought to clean up. It’s cold, I lay in bed while you gather the rubbers since you know once is just never enough. You kiss the bruise on my shoulder, and proceed to force yourself on me. I keep tabs on this memory, and am dumbfounded when you say you want something more serious. “I’m not into friends with benefits.” It’s clear we aren’t on the same page but I don’t care while we’re under the same blankets losing our clothes little by little. It’s so easy to understand how I’ll never talk to you from here on out.