stoned sex

They smoked heartily.

Each inhale turned gloriously (and almost imperceptibly) into an exhale. Each and every muscle fibre let go. Each little facial muscle becomes utterly useless apart from (of course) the ones involved in smiling. Those muscles twitched happily, waiting for the next burst of laughter, or the next stupid smile, at the next stupid thing one of them would do. 

The window was closed and suddenly they were lying next to each other. More in their bodies than normal, they were very aware of each other but still not self-conscious. Almost as soon as the zoot was through, a new energy had overcome them. They became a them: the joint being of him and her. They became this them gradually but all at once. A finger holding another finger, then palms pressed, hands on lower backs and thighs, and then, at last, lips against delicious lips. 

She straddled him confidently. She’d been here before with him. She moved for both of them but, if she were being completely honest, more for her. And if he was being completely honest, he enjoyed that fact maybe more than her moving more for him. She looked him in the eye: if they were in love this would be a moment of meaning, but, alas, they were not in love. They were friends who when they were happy and easy, kissed and more than kissed. So when she looked at him, it wasn’t anything as grand as meaning, it was something much simpler- silly joy. 

That joy bubbled up from her stomach, tickled her ribs, and escaped her throat. She tried to kiss him but instead smushed her laughing lips against his. He pulled back, no anger present, and said what’s so funny? She continued to laugh. He said more sternly, Em, what’s so funny? He thought she would enjoy him asserting his power but the thought of him in her at this moment, only seemed to entice more laughter. She continued to laugh. He laughed too and that only made her laugh more. She wondered what it felt like to be inside someone who was laughing. No girl had laughed while she had fingered them. She suspected it was maybe a bit different but resolved to try and make this happen anyway. 

At some point he had stopped laughing- she suspected she should probably wrap up this fit and get on with the sex, but the joy in her belly kept bubbling. She was absolutely not going to stop laughing anytime soon. She was fucked. She took a deep breath but the seriousness of this act only brought up more laughter. Some panic rose in her chest, what if she would never stop laughing? Or worse, how would not laughing feel? She couldn’t seem to remember and surely not laughing, even for a little while, would be absolutely awful. He sat up and squeezed her tight. The pressure on her skin reminded her of where she was but maybe, more importantly, who she was with. The wave of panic which had urgently made itself known, receded almost as quickly as it appeared, giving way to the playful bubbling once again.

Then, skilfully, he pulled her back into her body. Rocked her gently so that her body woke up to him. Kissed her neck while she grinned. Managing to stop her laugh while maintaining her smile. Safely girlish, stoned, and simply stupid, she let slip the word baby, which he would never let her forget.

Words: Emily Matthews, she/they