The zipper on her jeans scratched
his hand as he reached hungrily
inside, sliding his palm across silk.
She sighed slightly into his mouth
at this new touch, her tongue
flicking his as her hips pushed forward.
She pulled away from him to lie
on the bed and kick her pants down
to her ankles, where he finished the job.
Then he was on top of her, his right hand
sliding under her bra and cupping her
left breast as she unbuttoned his shirt.
They kissed and panted and fumbled
around until he found himself ready
to enter her and then he paused.
She moved a hand down to grasp him
and guided him in, slowly, until he grew
eager and thrust quickly at her.
This time the noise she made was
pained and she asked him to be still
until the discomfort eased a little.
They rocked awkwardly, unsure of
each other’s rhythms and confused
by the novelty of the sensations.
He finished quickly, trying to stay
aroused as she desperately moved
against him, seeking her own end.
Then they lay side by side, his sweaty
hand gripping hers but their eyes not
meeting, still mildly embarrassed.
As he dressed to leave, he leaned over
to kiss her and found that the exchange
was oddly cold, like a stolen first kiss.
She was not unhappy, merely unable
to describe the underwhelming
nature of what had just happened.