Turn 131 of 226

Have sex for the first time, its raw and animalistic

The sex is not a decision. The sex is the thing that happens because the bodies are the same size and the same weight and the mouths have been on each other for weeks and the hands have been everywhere except the place the hands are about to go. The body pushes Diane against the warehouse wall. The wall is concrete and the concrete does not give. Diane's back hits the wall and the impact is the thing that shakes dust from the ceiling and the dust is the thing that falls on both of them. The body's mouth is on Diane's neck. The mouth is the thing that bites — not the kissing mouth, not the gentle mouth, the mouth that is the animal's mouth. The teeth find the muscle where the neck meets the shoulder and the teeth close and Diane's sound is the thing that fills the warehouse.

Diane's hands grip the body's back. The gripping is the thing that finds the fat and the muscle beneath the fat — the layers the wish built, the density that is not soft, the density that takes the gripping and does not yield. The nails dig in. The digging is the thing that leaves marks — the red lines down the body's back, the lines that the body will feel tomorrow, the lines that are the animal's writing. The body's hand goes between Diane's legs. The hand is enormous — the hand that has knocked out fifty-two opponents, the hand that is calloused from the heavy bag. The fingers push inside. The wetness is the thing the body's fingers find and the wetness is not surprise. The wetness is the thing the body expected because the body is wet too.

Diane's hips move against the body's hand. The moving is the thing that is 1,040 pounds in motion — the hips rolling, the thighs clamping around the body's arm, the belly pressing against the body's belly. The bellies are the thing that meet — the soft, heavy mass of two bodies pressing together, the fat compressing between them, the warmth that is trapped in the space between. The body's fingers curl. The curling is the thing the body knows from the body's own body — the rhythm, the pressure, the place inside that produces the sound. Diane makes the sound. The sound is not quiet. The sound is the guttural thing that comes from the chest — the moan that is the animal's moan, the moan that bounces off the concrete walls and comes back.

Diane's hand finds the body. The finding is the thing that mirrors — the fingers pushing inside, the wetness that is the body's wetness, the rhythm that is the body's rhythm. The body's sound answers Diane's sound. The sounds are the thing that merge — the two voices, the two frequencies, the two animals in the warehouse making the noise that animals make. The body's hips buck against Diane's hand. The bucking is the thing that moves 1,040 pounds and the moving is the thing that pins Diane harder against the wall. The wall takes the weight. The wall does not care.

The orgasm is the thing that hits the body first. The hitting is the thing that starts in the pelvis and spreads — the wave that moves through the belly and the chest and the thighs, the wave that is the contraction and the release, the wave that makes the body's hand clench inside Diane and the clenching is the thing that pushes Diane over. Diane comes three seconds after — the coming that is the thing the body feels through the hand, the contractions around the fingers, the shaking that is 1,040 pounds trembling. The bodies slide down the wall. The sliding is the thing that ends on the concrete — the two masses tangled, the hands still inside each other, the breathing that is the panting that fills the warehouse. The body's mouth finds Diane's mouth. The kissing is the thing that is softer now — not the biting, not the animal. The kissing that is the thing the body does not have a word for. The kissing that is the thing the body has.