I think about her on all fours. Her shoes kicked to the side in order to be quick, but her jeans still bunched around her ankles. Her shirt pulled up leaving her torso nude but her shoulders covered. Her hair falls around her and sticks to her lips. In the afternoon sunlight that pours through the window she moves like liquid porcelain. She is soft and warm. Her breathing is quick and heavy, and though I can’t see her eyes I know they are shut tightly. Her hand presses mine close to her breast and I guide her with my other hand placed on her shoulder or her hip. We say no words, no names, just grunts and moans. The only other sounds come from our fucking. Her perfect ass slapping against me, my belt buckle jingling, and the bed complaining underneath us.

I do not know how long this goes on, what led up to it, or how it ends. It doesn’t matter. It’s never happened before.

But sometimes, I think about her on all fours.