Morning Sex


930am. 

Never done this before. 
I want to leave. 
But she strokes my thy. 
And I get aroused.

She takes it out. 
She strokes. 
She sucks. 
Fully erect. 
I know there’s no turning back.

The sun’s in the window. 
The room is bright. 
My blood is sober. 
Reality is slapping me in the face. 
Can’t look in her in the eye. 
Too awkward. 
Too insecure.

She lies down. 
I slide it in her. 
I close my eyes. 
But her eyes are open. 
Close your eyes, babe. 
Make it dark again.

The realization sets in. 
This is last night. 
Only with the lights on. 
This is what last night looked like?! 
This???

It’s like having infrared. 
Night-vision camera. 
Rewinding to last night.

The bodies look different. 
Pale. 
Flab. 
Pimples. 
Crusted belly-button lint. 
Vagina is curdled. 
Penis is pasty. 

The smells are different. 
Stale deodorant, perfume, detergents... 
Morning breath. 
Butt odor. 

Last night was different. 
Or was it??? 
Perception is everything. 
And this is what it was 
Last night. 
Only my perception 
Of reality 
Was distorted.

Fuck, dude. 
Never have sex 
Without booze 
And darkness.

But maybe love is different. 
Maybe morning sex is the Touchstone 
To tell whether it’s love 
Or lust.

 


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