That's why you have sex with me: because I hit places you can't reach yourself. Your cervix. Your ass. Your mind. Or I hit them in ways you can't manage on your own. Masturbation always lacks the element of surprise, even for someone with the poor impulse control that you constantly manifest. You say terrible things about me in front of other people. When you think I might leave you, you threaten to hit me. The psychologist in me thinks you are this way because you were inadequately mothered, but the part of me that refuses to be your girlfriend is more cynical, and understands perfectly well why your mother might find it hard to give you any love at all.

I keep waking up with you thinking it's all been a mistake and a bad dream, something I'll never do again. This is the same kind of anxiety I feel every time I drop acid, the knowledge that it's too late to remedy a terrible error, and every time I do it I promise myself, "Never again." Yeah, right.

I remember you kissing me this morning and my mouth tasted too terrible to kiss you back, anyway I was not awake, and you said, "We overslept." I thought, no, you overslept. And my eyes didn't open. Then I heard you say, "I have to come," and you were kissing me again. I had to come too, but since you came the night before and I had not, I did not feel very excited about doing it for you again. Anyway I was not awake. And you had to spread your legs so far I could barely find enough room to be comfortable enough to sleep. You were moving your hips. Moving your fingers in and out of that wet place, you have spoiled me by always being so wet, it makes me fuck you too hard and too often, the way you are always luxuriously and completely wet whenever I get my hand inside your pants. I wanted to see if you were that wet now but I was not awake. You got up and the bed moved and I almost opened my eyes but you came back to bed and said, "I'm going to put your cock in me." The dildo I had strapped on the night before and used in you, sent up you, thrust and worked with my hips, I had just thrown it on the floor after I took it off, now you had it in your hand. You fucked yourself for a long long time and I don't think you ever really came but I'm not sure because I never woke up before you gave up, got up and got dressed, and left. I had to ask you for a kiss goodbye.

Gone Is The Shame: A Compendium of Lesbian Erotica is published by Masquerade Books and can be ordered from The Erotic Book Society.