Office fuckers

“You shouldn’t smoke in this office.”

“Should I put it out?”

“No, that’s okay. How are you today?”

I paused for a second, listening to the silence thunder in my

“He left.”

“What happened, Carla?”

“He told me yesterday, after fucking me. I told him to make love to
me, but I guess he fucked me like a whore if he was gonna leave. And
he told me he loved me. But he… left.”

“Why do you say that he fucked you like a whore?”

My eyebrows furrowed for a bit before I answered. “‘Cause he
didn’t bother to dump me before getting his.”

My psychologist shifted in the dull green armchair, the
polyester making crinkling sounds.

“And you were together for about two years?”

“Yeah. He was my first. He was my best friend, in fact.. He
was my first everything. The first friend I had that was around for
more than a few months. He took my virginity, um, everywhere. I
still can remember them all clear as day.. I was drunk last night and
I thought I was there. When I passed out I had this wonderful dream..

“Why don’t you tell me about the dream, Carla?”

I sighed, arching my back slightly against the faux leather of
the couch, squeezing the burning butt between my fingers slightly
before lifting it to my lips again. “I dreamt I was pregnant. And,
well, he doesn’t want a baby, he never did, but in the dream he was
really happy about it. He was protective, fussing all over me. He
took me out to a dinner to celebrate and he was all over me,
affectionate, kissing and hugging me and holding my hand. He never
does that, you know.”

“Why doesn’t he?”

“He says it makes him uncomfortable. In the dream, though, he
was really laying it on me. He’d press up against my body every
chance he got.. He was hard throughout the whole dream, I remember
that. It seemed really big through his trousers, pressed against my
body. And he’d take his hand and run it along my belly, like he was
feeling our baby, and if nobody was watching or if we were sitting
down he’d pull his hand down to my pussy or touch my nipples. He made
me really wet that night.”

“He doesn’t show public affection normally?”

I laughed. “Hell, no. Never. Not one single time. He did
that all night in the dream, though. And when we got back to the
house he got on his knees and begged me to marry him — he didn’t just
propose, he begged.” I frowned, remembering something. “I lost my
virginity earlier in that dream… hmm.”

“Perhaps that symbolizes what you really wanted to happen when
you lost your virginity.”

Memories flooded through my head. “It wasn’t exactly the best
experience. I’d had this whole fantasy built around it, with candles
and bath bubbles and well, when I lost my virginity we were… dry
humping, I guess you’d call it, through my underwear. He had a condom
on even though it wasn’t _really_ sex, and I had my panties on, and he
was begging me to let him put it in. I liked the feeling of his cock
rubbing up and down against me just fine, but he wanted more, and
finally I just let him do it.”

“Did it hurt as much as you thought it would?”

I shook my head. “It felt nice, actually. It felt really big
and hard and stung a little bit because it stretched me out. I felt
so.. full. It was the oddest feeling. But I didn’t feel like I’d
become ONE with him. I felt like he was almost intruding in me. It
was like his finger or something. It didn’t feel like _him_ in me.”

“You mean it didn’t feel like _real_ sex?”

“It was real sex. That’s what bothered me. It wasn’t
everything I’d expected… and I started to cry in the middle of it.
I hid my face in the pillow next to his head so he wouldn’t see, but
he told me later that he thought I was sad. Didn’t stop him, but he
thought about it. When he was done, we went down to the kitchen and
ate. I cried again. He held me for a while. He said he was sorry.
We went back upstairs and I got another condom and did it again.. He
was like, ‘Are you sure?’ and I said yeah.”

“Why did you do it again?”

“I figured, I’m not a virgin anymore, why hold back? I guess
it was a little better for me that time. The first time I probably
could have come, but I felt so sad, and well, the second time.. I
didn’t come, but it felt nicer. He held me afterwards.. I didn’t cry
again but I wanted to.”

“I see.”

“We were pretty much uninhibited after that, I guess. It took
a couple months before we stopped using condoms, and we started to
just withdraw. It’s kind of ironic when I look back on it, ’cause at
the beginning he wouldn’t even rub his cock against me through my
underwear without a condom, and the last few months he didn’t even
pull out anymore.”

“You weren’t using condoms?”

“We haven’t used condoms in.. hmm.. almost a year. Maybe 8
months, 10? We didn’t intend to, you know, but one day we didn’t have
any and we really wanted to, so..”

“But you had him withdraw.”

“Yeah. We were just sitting on the couch and I was teasing
him, trying to make him horny, and I was thinking to myself, haha he
won’t be able to put it in.. And well, I wanted him to put it in. I
wanted to feel flesh against flesh, to _really_ make love. ‘Cause I
don’t think it’s making love unless you, unless.. it’s bare, raw skin.
You become one.. there’s nothing between the two of you, you know?
Nothing interfering.”

“So the issue was that you wanted to make love.”

“Yes. And I just took it and .. even holding his shaft
against the entrance of my pussy made me moan. It felt so hot, and it
throbbed against me, and I could even tell where his precum rubbed my
skin. It felt so _textured_ and it wasn’t even inside yet. And he
just pushed it in me and.. wow. We just _sat_ there, feeling each
other. He barely thrust it in and out before he pushed me off of him
and came all over my thighs. It was messy, but I liked it and smeared
it around with my fingers..”

“Were you thinking about the consequences?”

“The consequences didn’t bother me. The consequences don’t
bother me now, I trusted him, I knew he was disease-free. As for
pregnancy, well.. It never happened then. I miscarried the first time
I got pregnant. I wasn’t careful at all, I’ll admit that, ’cause I
_know_ a part of me wanted his baby. It probably wouldn’t even have
qualified as an accident because I was brazenly.. He came inside me
for the first time during my period because I told him there wasn’t an
egg. To tell the truth, I didn’t have a clue if I was ovulating or

“You lied to him?”

“Not really. I’d heard it was safer during, well, my period.
And his cum just burned horribly inside me, I couldn’t sleep all
night. It burned a few times after that but I guess I got used to it.
And that’s when I got pregnant, but I didn’t know it. I’d been kind
of scared that I was infertile because there was no pregnancy before
that, and I.. hmm. I didn’t know I was pregnant. And after I lost
the baby, I thought, ‘Well, it takes you months and months and months
to get pregnant and you lose the baby when you do so what’s the point
of even trying to be careful?’ I didn’t SAY it to myself, you know,
but.. and you know, it didn’t even seem real then.”

“What do you mean when you say that didn’t seem real?”

“It just seemed like a picture in a magazine, where you look at it —
you know that’s a real living _person_ but it doesn’t quite hit you as
real. It only got to be real when I saw these pictures of dead
fetuses in a book.. they weren’t sonograms or anything, they were
photographs of dead fetuses.. babies.”

“What would you have done if you hadn’t lost the baby, Carla?”

“The baby would have been fucked up. I was drinking, smoking”
— I crushed the dead cigarette against the ashtray for emphasis —
“and getting high. If I’d known right away that I was pregnant, I
would have been eating 100% organic and drinking cranberry juice by
the gallon. But I had to be a month and a half or even two months
along because it hurt so bad when I lost it.. I couldn’t stand up for
a week. I had to be pretty far along.”

“Not necessarily. A miscarriage is basically a rejection of
the baby — it’s a normal occurrence, mind you, and it wasn’t your
fault, but all it is, is that your body is reabsorbing foreign tissue
into it. I’m not an expert, but I don’t think that pain is a good
judge of how advanced the pregnancy is. Only a doctor is.”

“I didn’t see a doctor. I didn’t even know what was happening
to me, and neither did he, neither of us had any clue. I was holed up
in his bed the whole time, crying, I couldn’t even uncurl my body from
the fetal position. He was scared shitless.”

“Were you more careful after that?”

“No, I just said I wasn’t. In fact, we were less careful —
we did it any time of the month. Any time of the day. I loved this..
making love.”

“Making love seems to be important to you, versus having sex
or ‘fucking’.”

“It is.”

We sat in silence for a moment, and my eyes slowly closed. I
felt my wet eyelashes tickle my cheek. “He said he wouldn’t leave if
I was pregnant. He said he’d marry me and we’d raise our baby in a
house out in the country. He said he wouldn’t leave, though, and I
guess that’s most of what made the baby real to me.”

“And he didn’t, did he?”

“He just did.”