“What are your intentions for my daughter?” he asks, voice desert dry. I’m closer to his age than hers. I glance at her for reassurance, but she only offers a sly smile, grinding deeper into the cushion, marking his furniture. I take a big gulp of the beer she offered me from his fridge, hoping it might cool the panic. “Sir,” I begin. She spreads her legs slightly. Her skirt rides higher. The wet spot on her panties beari...

“Can I watch?” She looked at me with the same resigned look I’d grown accustomed to. Resigned, but with a loving smile behind it. “Babe…no.” I watched her slide off the couch, take the ten steps across the hardwood floor, then head into the hallway. I counted her steps—one, two, three…a hesitant four, then five—until I heard the bathroom door open, then click closed behind her. Finally, the flick of the lock. I held my br...

In the darkness of my room Tracing shadows left behind There’s a dip in my pillow still Where your head came to rest Press my face into the crease To chase the scent you left behind I find the memory of your touch A ghost that haunts, but it’s not loss “Through hellfire,” you once said Through the pain of distance shared I wake to find my pillow wet and reach out, but you’re still gone I take a plunge into the deep Agains...

The mid-August sun breaks through the cracks in the curtains. You’ve already been up for an hour, while I’ve stretched lazily in bed. You enter the room with your hair still wet from the shower. I like watching you like this, damp and naked, as I pull my lazy body toward the edge of the bed and sit up. “Come here,” I whisper, and you do. I press a kiss to your belly, then spin you around. Your ass always does me in, and I...

If you must know… She smells of rosewater when the ease of her settles into me. She feels like the calm of a lifetime reaching out and setting me free If you must know: She feels like she’s never been touched by another. As if her skin came alive, erect from my touch. A flame ignited between each other. If you must… Her skin smells like pomegranate and the fruit of passion, and feels like silk, the whisper of satin. Her b...

There is a moment after readiness, before action, when time thickens instead of moving. My body was stretched open and plugged shut. Well, my ass was. I felt the large plug pressing between the surface of the table and the shape of my cunt. The last tremors of my orgasm made it thrum inside me like a self-propelled vibrator intent on making me cum again. I existed there like their fantasy, their trophy. I was positioned a...

Sitting through another lecture with Professor McArthur was an ache turned molten. Through the entire first semester, I’d let my mind wander, wondering just how his voice would curl down my spine if he called me baby. Some days I’ll just sit there—wide-legged, feeling the heat rise—biting my lip as the wet soaks into my jeans, and his voice fills my head. Once, I’d moaned. Friday nights were spent hanging out with the oth...

It’s one of the quiet times, when I see a furrow between your eyes or a stare held too long on something intangible. It is as if you’ve paused yourself, or the noise has grown so loud it doesn’t break into a storm but freezes everything instead. I sense a little friction in you, a kind of contradiction where the body says one thing and the mind another. Imagine this, if you will, as a movie scene, captured in a single, un...