Tag Archives: orgy

2015/11/17

So Many Scattered Signs

By dsholloway

Climbing the fire escape, I thought about all the times I’ve been rejected: elementary school kickball teams, high school dances, college orgies, post-college job interviews. The higher I climbed—certain that she was in the apartment on the top floor and not “catching happy hour with a colleague”—the lower into despair I sank. The sun was descending and my shadow lagged further and further behind, as though it didn’t want to accompany me on my quest for vindication.

The knife in my pocket suddenly felt heavy.

Once, a girl broke my heart and I slashed her tires. As a peace offering I gave her some pears that I found in the middle of the highway, the result of a crashed fruit truck. I told her they came from the mall.

I heard her laughter through the door. Peering between the blinds I saw tangled bodies. Overcome with rage, I charged the door.

“K,” she screamed, “what are you doing here?”

I looked for my shadow, which had decided to wait outside. I readied my knife but paused when I realized she was in bed with a woman.

Arousal overtook me and my shadow shook its head from the doorway.

 

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2015/10/01

A Domain of Sacred Enjoyment

By dsholloway

“We don’t know what happened to the dinosaurs,” she said. She was too attractive to be a paleontologist. I nevertheless listened to her lecture. But I didn’t believe her.

I whispered to K: “Bullshit. She knows exactly what happened to them.”

K brushed me aside and marched toward the paleontologist, much swagger in his step. “She wants to have sex with the two of us,” he reported back, smiling as though he were staring in his own porn. I would have fucked her, but the idea of three bodies heaving and groaning together was off-putting.

K left the museum with the paleontologist. “I’ll find out what happened to them,” he said in my ear on his way out.

I visited K in prison six months later. He was wan and sickly. “What the fuck,” I said.

“I cut her head off.”

“Why?”

“She would’t tell me what happened to the dinosaurs, so I killed her.”

I couldn’t say anything, so he kept talking.

“But the weird thing was,” he said with piercing eyes from behind plexiglass, “I looked down her neck after I cut her head off. I saw a bunch of dinosaurs grazing.”

“On what,” I asked, genuinely curious.

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2015/07/01

But the Attacks Continue

By dsholloway

She said she wanted only to swim with the jellyfish. “It’ll hurt,” I said, “a lot.”

We gazed out at the ocean.

“I know,” she replied, sharply.

She had this thing about being hurt during sex–they always do at first–and was ready to make the jump to daily life.

“I’m a masochist,” she had said the first time we had sex. She didn’t understand that masochism is a complex theory of living. And I didn’t feel like explaining it to her. So I did as she asked and broke her fingers with a hammer before fucking her.

But as she eyed the ocean I became concerned. “Masochism is contractual,” I pleaded, suddenly feeling as though I were discouraging her from having an orgy with numerous men who weren’t me. “I know when to stop. Those creatures don’t.”

She sighed. “Jesus, K. Give it a rest. I know what I’m doing.” She stood and untied her bathing suit. Without looking back, she ran toward the ocean and dived in. I haven’t seen her since.

I wonder about her from time to time: did she drown, did she find her jellyfish?

I ignore rumors of a jellyfish woman with mangled fingers.

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