I’m pretty worked up and he slips in easily, back and forth, building up friction, burning more and more. He sighs, like he’s never been more comfortable in his whole life. It’s this deep “h” noise and he makes a pretty stupid face with it. I realize I must be making stupid faces too; I try to soften my grimace into some kind of smile. I pull my head back, press my crown into the pillow. I love this. I love it. I match his “huhs” with “ahs.” When he goes deeper my voice gets higher, in volume and in pitch. Sometimes because I think I should, but sometimes it just comes out.

He starts going faster and I brace my hips against the force. He seems to like it and lets his head down, kissing me, and we sing into each other’s mouth again, weird singing, fucking mammal dinosaurs. I try to bring my mind back. I’m here, fucking my imaginary boyfriend, and it’s amazing. He’s got a good cock. Not too big, but better than that one time when I went out with a jock. The first time we fooled around I found out why he’d chosen pole-vaulting instead of running track or doing the high jump or whatever. We were naked and, you know, just fooling around, and then I noticed this weird look on his face. It took me ages before I realized that he was fucking me. I mean, I couldn’t even tell. Just by the look on his face. But, like, he didn’t ask or anything, and I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to do. And just when I got it together in my head enough to tell him to stop—and keep in mind this is taking place over the course of seconds, like, three or four seconds—he pulled out and came on my stomach. I avoided him for a few days (mostly I just didn’t go to school) and then broke it off. We were too different. He was a jock, all set with a college scholarship and everything, and I was just the weird new girl who read books all the time and never talked to anyone. He shrugged it off but I could tell he was hurt. I had an abortion six weeks later. Hitting him up for his half of the money was just too much hassle. The first time of many I’ve blown all my savings on a pointless mistake.

Spiky, mean thoughts try to pry their way in, but I shoo them away. I say it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault.

This is real and now is real, and I’m here and it’s so hot our bodies stick and graft and it hurts to touch and hurts to pull apart.