"Feel that?" he asks.

I feel it. I feel him through my belly. I feel an amazing swell with each thrust as he fucks a bulge into my belly. I tell him to come. I tell him I can't take any more. I tell him to shoot his cum deep in me as hard as he can. I tell him, again, that I want him to come deep up my arse. He tells me that he doesn't care, he isn't finished, that he will decide. I can't keep track of time, of reality, or anything but his dismantling of me. In the end I wonder at the feeling of his cum filling me. I wonder then realise what I am feeling.

He hasn't used a condom -- it's not like him, especially around my arse. I assume he wants to defile me. I even use those words. "Defile me," I say.

After his cum has filled me, he keeps pumping. I keep squeezing until he goes limp, until he slides his dick out of my arse. He gets up, stretches, finds a towel and wipes his dick on it, bundles it and throws it at me. I place the towel between my legs. I lay there. I finger my clit until I come at least two more times. Eventually, as I build to an aching third I hear the shower going. He is washing himself. He has not asked me to join him. I don't want to join him, but I do.

I walk to him with my finger frigging me. I smell of his cum and butter and my cunt. The shower, it's hot. I love the heat. The water plays over me. I beg him to suck on my tits. He says this isn't about me.

"Stop making it about you," he says.

He asks me to suck his dick. I say that I won't. It's my last limit.

It's Sunday. I look at his alarm clock. It's 5 a.m. In a few short hours I'm going to have to join my parents at church. My bag is in the corner of his room. My church clothes are in it. We've finished with each other, so I lie next to him, in his warm arms. I tell him that when we break up I'm not going to have sex again until I am married.

He tells me my virginity will not grow back.

He tells me I cannot undo what I have done.

He tells me that I cannot deny my desires.

He asks me if I have ever contacted the woman who gave me her card.

I say that I haven't.

He says that I will. And I will. It's only a matter of time.

I say, "I'm scared that I will be found out."

What I say is a lie. I know it's a weak excuse. They have clubs across the state. A three hour train ride and a night's work in a club with no one who knows me. He tells me I should feed my desires or they will drive me crazy.

When I leave I tell him we are done.

He doesn't believe me.

I don't believe myself, either.

"I saw you look when we drove past."

He means that club.