The condom she gives me doesn’t fit and I’m too embarrassed to say anything, so I just deal with it, but it keeps slipping away whenever I pull out. I end up wedging my fingers either side of my thing like a backwards version of the knife game, perpetrating the thrust instead of avoiding it. My free arm aches from balancing and I wish I’d done more push ups, ever. I can feel her body growing tense beneath me as she moves towards the edge. I see myself fading from her world, a vestigial body attached to an appendage.

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