Christopher Kroeker
(6/27/01)

I know it's crazy, but think about it: you're running down an old deserted logging road deep in the woods, when from far off, you see a figure. Even though you cannot make out any features, you know immediately she is female. You can feel it. And you want her. Invigorated, you spruce up your stride and keep running, looking as closely as you can without meeting her eye. But she's watching you too, and if you weren't so fixed on your own image-making, you'd realize that she is playing the same game. You pass. You want her so badly that for a brief moment it seems quite natural to reach out and tumble passionately to the ground. But the prudent part of you knows you could go to jail for that.

Almost instinctively, you turn your head after she passes, only to find yourself staring at her own lust-filled eyes, animated by urgent desire. Before you know what's happening, you stop on a dime and embrace, hungrily feeding on each other's sweaty faces, lips on tongue on cheek on chin. Breathing hard, your wet legs intertwine and you grind your smelly groins awkwardly together. Then the shorts are off and she is straddling you as you lie on the rough, hard-packed dirt. Red face, gaping mouth and long neck tower above you against the overcast sky. She slides back and forth frantically over your aching penis. If you could see your own face, it would betray your shock and fear, your sheer panting hysteria. With shaking hands, you grope her chest, squeezing and tugging at her breasts beneath her sports bra as she rocks up and down and sideways, grinding herself on your pelvic bone. Sharp stones tear into your shoulders and hips. One elbow now digs into the ground as you steady yourself, the other gripping her thigh. Her frantic rhythm changes abruptly. She grabs your T-shirt with both hands and plunges her forehead into your collarbone, and then, for a moment, nothing; just thighs gripping your sides, wet hair on your face and the spastic throbbing of tensed muscles. Release -- deep breath -- hold -- breathe again -- she collapses on your chest and you relax for the first time. The faintest of moans emerges from somewhere deep in her throat as she hoists herself back to a sitting position. You look for the first time at where your pubic hair merges with hers. You notice her scraped and bleeding knees. You avoid her eyes. One more deep breath and she stands abruptly on shaking legs, hurriedly thrusts her long legs into her shorts and takes off down the road. Your stiff penis pulses vainly in the open air. You watch helplessly as she disappears around the bend, and imagine racing after her with your erection flailing foolishly before you.

Lie back down. Close your eyes. Lick your lips and massage yourself. Gently now -- there's no hurry. Tears collect in the corners of your tightly shut lids. Cry. You can cry now. She's gone and no one will be coming for a long time.

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