A heavy, wet slap of flesh. A thick, damp arm is thrown carelessly over my shoulder, pinning my chest flat against the mattress. The bedsprings groan under the mass.
His coarse chest hair grinds into my shoulder blades. The air in my room used to be crisp, smelling of expensive eucalyptus. Now it is completely suffocated under a thick, humid blanket of stale tobacco and sour Old Spice. I should be gagging. I used to hold my breath when I opened my front door for him. But now, my lungs heave against the wet sheets, dragging his hot, damp musk deep into my chest like it's the only oxygen left on earth.
Gary huffs, a ragged, wet rattle right against my ear. His heavy stomach sags against my lower back. It is a suffocating, disgusting weight, but my body feels terrifyingly anchored to it. Without that crushing pressure holding me down, I feel like I would shatter.
How long has the ceiling fan been spinning? My mind tries to claw backward through a thick, buzzing fog. Gary. The rent. Two hundred dollars short.
A disjointed flash of my boyfriend crosses my mind. The memory of rolling over in the dark, taking his dick just to shut down an argument. The smug, quiet victory of treating my own body like a mute button. I remember smirking at the sweat stains on Gary's cheap polo. A two-minute favor. Let the pathetic loser fumble around, wipe the debt, and kick him out.
A breathless, broken whine vibrates in my throat. I stare blankly at a water stain on the drywall. Why am I moaning? I try to freeze my limbs, to lock my muscles and just endure the chore.
His stomach slaps my back.
I didn't move when he hit me. I moved a microsecond before.
I just know exactly, fundamentally, when the next one is coming. The clumsy fumbling from the beginning is completely gone, replaced by a relentless, heavy metronome. The rhythm conditioned me until my brain stopped calculating and started anticipating.
Then, the rhythm had broken.
The memory cuts sharp and cold through the haze. The crushing weight had suddenly vanished. Freezing air hit my sweat-slicked skin.
My spine had arched violently. Thwack. My hips jerked back, slamming into empty air. Thwack. I gasped, my eyes flying open, my fingers tearing into the mattress. The phantom pressure had knocked so hard against my prostate it was a physical hallucination. My empty hole clenched and throbbed, starving for a heavy impact that wasn't there.
"Sorry," Gary had muttered, his shadow looming over my shivering body. Oblivious. "The condom… it’s making it hard to cum. I'm taking way too long. I should just go. We'll call the rent even."
I opened my mouth, fully intending to coldly demand it. "Please."
The word shattered the air. It was a desperate, high-pitched whimper. It didn't sound like me.
"Please don't leave," I had begged, my voice cracking humiliatingly as I reached back, my fingers clawing blindly into his sweaty, dimpled thigh. "Take it off. Please. Fuck me raw. I need it."
There was a rustle of foil. A wet slide. He plunged back in, bare, stretching me out with a burning, absolute heat.
And the memory snaps shut.
How long has it been since the foil rustled? Hours? Days? The gray light through the blinds hasn't changed.
He is heavier now. Sweating more. His thick arm is wrapped tighter around my ribs, burying me deeper into the damp sheets. I’m hovering right on the edge of a devastating, blinding climax, my entire body vibrating like a plucked string.
"Fuck..." I sob, blindly chasing the friction as he drags himself in and out of me.
His breath hitches. A ragged, guttural groan tears out of his throat, vibrating right against my neck. His pace stutters, growing frantic and deep. He's close. He’s been close for an absolute eternity. Every single minute, he sounds like he is finally going to tip over the edge.
Yes. the last dying shred of my pride begs from the bottom of the abyss. Cum. Finish it. Get off me.
But my walls clamp down around him in pure, animal panic. If he finishes, the arm uncoils. The disgusting, perfect weight lifts. He puts on his cheap pants and leaves, and this agonizing, hypnotic rhythm dies.
Don't stop. I bite down on my lip until I taste copper, entirely swallowed by his sweating mass, praying blindly that he stays trapped on this edge with me forever.
