This story is the winner of the 2008 Infinite Writing Tournament.

WARNING: This story has been rated Mature because of its explicit sexual content, violence and disturbing themes. Do not continue reading if such subject matter is likely to upset you, and you do not enjoy being upset.

You have just read three pages of your textbook without really seeing a single word. Your gaze travels slowly to the open window. It's just beginning to smell like fall, with that unmistakable crispness in the air that makes you crave warm interior spaces, a fire, against a wall…

You throw your pen down on the desk. It rolls off the edge and falls to the carpet, but you don't bother to pick it up because you have already crossed the short distance from your desk to your bed. You need to get this out of your system or it will kill you. He's a poison, making you feel almost nauseous as you lie down on your bed with him, always him, in your mind.

What would you do if, as you stroke the air above you, that air suddenly became his back and he was there, right there with you…on you? What would he do? Would he find you exciting enough to continue? You close your eyes in shame, not wanting to see or be seen, but just to feel him.

"Yes, you want me. You really want me," you whisper to him in ecstasy, moving your hand down his side and sandwiching it between your bodies. "These jeans can be a little tricky, though."

No, wait, that's a stupid line, and it would make him feel stupid. Would you really want to imply that he doesn't know how to take off a pair of pants? He vanishes back into the air. You stand up and undress quickly, throwing your clothes in random places so that the scene has that special look. You duck under the open window, pinning yourself abruptly against the wall next to it.

"Be careful!" you admonish him. "I have nosy neighbors!" You press your back harder against the wall. The pin holding up your calendar is sticking into your shoulder, but you don't tell him anything. It would ruin the moment. "Oh!" you gasp, stumbling backwards until you run up against your bed, falling all the way down on your back. "Oh!" He lands on top of you as you continue to wriggle upward, trying to get away from the inevitable.

At this point, your body is more than ready and your two fingers slide easily inside. The motion is strong and fast, pushing you back and forth on the bed, which creaks under the effort. You smile up at him.

"The downstairs neighbors don't exactly mind their own business either, but this is…" Unable to speak anymore, you give in to those brutal thrusts. Three fingers. "The climax comes suddenly and intensely, taking away all of your breath as you writhe spasmodically from side to side. You smile up at him. Removing your fingers, you bring them up to his face. They are streaked with pleasure and shine like long crystals in the lamplight.

"You must be thirsty after all your efforts. Drink!" You can feel wet lips closing around your fingers, sucking from tip to base and back again. "You're a thirsty boy, aren't you? Here, have some more." The fingers slide back in, then out. He presses your hand towards your own mouth. "But I didn't work half as hard as you did!" It's mild and a little bit sweet…one taste could never be enough. In and out and in and it's on the tip of your tongue again, that universal taste of love. You sigh, exhausted, and it is only now that you notice the sun has gone down.

"He's left me now," you announce to the far wall. "But he'll be back. One taste could never be enough."

Your wet hand falls limp by the side of your bed, slowly drying as the hours of the night wear on.

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