Summer Sex and Philip Weiss

I straddle Gabriel’s skinny hips while he lies back perfectly flat with his hands behind his head, his erection hard against his stomach. I’m distracted by the crease where his bicep meets his deltoid - I think it’s one of those details that’s inexplicably hot to me, like his hips and his hands. I want to run my tongue along that line.

Outside, it’s humid and hot. I grew up in a hot climate - I’m used to high temperatures - but the air here is so thick and damp that the street dirt sticks to your skin. You’d think summer storms would signal a break in the humidity, but then you wake up the next morning and your summer dress feels like too much clothing, so you walk around naked.

I hold his cock in my hands and stroke it in a slow, lazy way while we talk. At some point, he reaches forward and puts his hands on my waist to pull me against him so he can take my breast in his mouth. I’m leaning over him, his hard-on pressed between my pelvis and his stomach, and we’re moving in sleepy slow motion, his hands on my back, his mouth at my shoulder, and then I’m flipped onto my stomach, my legs spread. I grip the corner of the mattress for stability.

I’ve been gripping furniture all week. I’ve got a fading bruise on my hip from the frame of his sofa. And when we took pictures of my pussy the other day, I noticed light bruises on the insides of my thighs. Little coital contusions.

I’m bruised from days and days of this, from the furniture and the friction and the thrusting and the humping. It’s summer, it’s hot, it’s skirt season, and I need to remind myself to cross my legs.

*

The other night, I saw Philip Weiss on a re-run of the Colbert Report. He was promoting his article in New York Magazine, the now notorious think piece that attempted to complicate our assumptions about monogamy. The article included an odd and off-base attempt to describe what I look like, based on rumor, and while I was interested to hear what he had to say, especially given the criticism his piece received, the first thing I thought was, “So that’s what he looks like.” I hadn’t realized I was curious.

Gabriel was with me at the time. We were on the sofa, my legs draped across his lap.

“So would you fuck him?” he asked.

I watched Weiss for a bit and said, “Yeah. Probably.”

Then Gabriel called me a slut and we made out.