It was hard to say where each of us finished, and the other started, joined as we were by flesh and fluid and the wildly enticing promise of hedonistic release.

There was a lot more confidence than I expected. 

There was a lot more confidence than she expected. 

Face down. 

Arms out. 

No doubts or misgivings. 

No words to describe the story playing out between us. Just unintelligible noises and grunts. 

A gentle touch here. 

Some forceful hands there. 

Such tender and excruciating moments to share. 

Gurgled cries. Muffled and distorted. 

From pain? Or from pleasure? 

Does it matter? 

Not to her. Not to me.  

The only thing that matters is release. 

Her release. My release. Our release.

For this one glorious moment in time, our respective worlds are reduced to a singular, driving focus. 

Chasing a goal that we can only achieve together. 

We need each other. We feed off each other. 

We are slaves to each other.

Parasites and hosts in equal measure, chasing our own selfish ends while intimately tied to that of the other. 

Tortured, and torturous play.