“The work turned everyone into beasts, animals fucking each other and fighting over scraps of feed, and that was why it was good, it didn’t spare time for bullshit, it was rapid, voluptuous prose, something more akin to the density of a salty lotion because it fills in the cracks but it burned people off to it, a lot of them got angry and screamed about the injustice of so many paying attention to such a sordid thing, but the situation demanded attention, this was something that you just couldn’t even take your eyes off of, it was like watching supermodels fuck in the Whitehouse while the President jerked off, something your subconscious had always suspected of being possible but a lack of precedence had never allowed such weird puzzle pieces as these to fit together in just the right way but someone, somewhere, had whittled their wood long enough and somehow had produced this – this aberrant mutant without fear or pity that you just couldn’t not look at, and it fucked everybody up big time, there was really nothing to say afterwards, it was over, it had fucked everything up. So people were mad, but pussy mad, the kind of mad that is really just defense rather than offensive momentum, a conservative impulse to preserve rather than to explore, a denial of the risk that someone else had sacrificially given themselves over to, more jerking off. It wasn’t really a question of better, but it did make everything else seem like a waste of time. All of those assholes who had never given it all truly over to the work but had kept some for themselves looked like the narcissistic posers they were, wanting to play the part but never truly taking it the hard way. So the whole thing was a big “FUCK YOU” to everything that sucked.”

As she finished that last sentence of her art history paper, she was forced to stop, even as her manic momentum charged on. She had heard a noise.

She left her desk, and because the illuminated screen was the only source of light in the room, she left her laptop on. The noise had been unmistakably the sound of something fucked with; her intuitive sense of noises had not set off an unwarranted alarm. There are the ambient sounds of the inanimate, and then there are the sounds of animals, fucking with shit. There are also sounds that trick your mind. Who knew? She sure as hell didn’t. She had a moment of fear. The hair on her arms and back stood up, she stopped padding her way toward the door to her apartment and stood very still. What the fuck am I doing? THE DOOR TO MY APARTMENT IS LOCKED! Why would I go outside to “investigate?” Am I fucking stupid? These thoughts were only the most literal; she had others, but why? She was confused about whether or not she had heard a sound in the first place. This is precisely the motherfucking reason I can’t get any fucking work done! Every time I have the least bit provocation my mind wants to flip away from the task I’ve attempted to focus it on, and outward towards some bullshit that has captivated my momentary improvisational imagination! This is why people need structure, to enslave their minds, because the nature of ideas just isn’t powerful enough to inspire industry in the lives of humans! We need money and fear and oppression to make anything good, otherwise we just lay around and jerk off –

She heard another fucking noise! Oh shit, FUCK! Okay, still, door is locked, someone is out in the hall, go back to your computer, you don’t live in this building alone.

The door opened just a bit, and she could hear the person now, it was a man, and it retreated away from the door as it cracked slowly open. She was on the other side of the door, and as the opening widened, her view was still blocked. She tried to peer through the crack at the hinges, trying to get a sense of what was on the other side. Nothing. The best chance she had of evading detection by the entering foe was hiding behind the door, since as soon as whatever or whoever was waiting in the hall cleared the threshold her whole studio loft would open up for visual inspection – except for the space right behind the door. That would also fortunately place her close to the door, but as she slinked up into the acute angle inside the door, she realized that also put her as physically close to the intruder as she could get.

Fuck it, I’ll wait until this asshole is inside my apartment then I’ll smash his fucking head in and run out, jump down the stairwell and start screaming until I get to the lobby. That’s the plan, motherfucker. She reached down into her umbrella holder and was instantly emboldened by the rough grip of her old field hockey stick. It was time to get rough, bitches.

She heard a breath behind her, in the crack of the door. She turned around and there was an eyeball and a noise, aimed right at her face. She jumped sideways into the door, throwing as much dead weight as she could into the air and against the door, slamming it closed. There was a crunch, and a gurgling scream, and a surprised, panicked flailing as the now distinctly male attacker fell back against the door and lurched back into the apartment.

She was on the ground, getting up, as her laptop screen powered off, eliminating any visibility as the door bounced off the hinge stops and slammed shut. As an angry, “WHAT THE FUCK…” came from somewhere to her left, she jumped up and swung hard towards a dark shape a foot above her head a few steps away. She couldn’t have asked for better target, and she heard the stick hit jaw and then that bitch was down. She flipped the lights so she could unlock the door, and as she flung it open she glanced back.

She’d fucked him up bad, but he still looked hot somehow, almost like how Mel Gibson looked after getting beaten and smashed by the evil road cult in that movie where he drives a semi truck filled with sand with that raw little kid with the razor boomerang. But Paul wasn’t getting up and going home after this one, at least not right away. Fuck ME, this is fucked up. His nose was broken, kinda crunched and bent at the end, and there was a big gash on the side of his chin where she’d hit him with the stick.

She could tell he was breathing because he kept blowing blood bubbles out of his unsmushed nostril. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed all of her towels, which she threw out on the floor into a large nest and then gently rolled him over and onto, so that he was laying on his back. She didn’t want to move him too much, so she ran hot water over a towel and straddled him lightly, dabbing at his face. She knew he was eventually going to have to go to the hospital for his nose, and maybe for some stitches on his chin, and he’d probably be disfigured for life, but she didn’t feel like having an EMS crew invade her crib asking what the fuck had happened. She figured it would be better if she just took him in a cab over to St. Vincent’s.

She wasn’t wearing much, just small lo-cut lace panties and an old t-shirt. As she moved around on top of him, she started to think about sex. Paul was hot. She liked it on top; that was the only way she could cum. She pushed her ass down into his crotch a little more firmly. That feels nice; I wonder if, if I could get him hard right now?

As she cleaned the blood off his face, she started to rock, ever so lightly, up and down over his dick. And even though his eyes were closed and he didn’t seem like he was waking up, she thought she felt him stiffen – ever so slightly. She decided to check

By this point, her pussy was past moist, more like soaked, and she had become unalterably horny. She wanted to fuck. So she gently moved her torso down his pelvis, until her head was at his waist, and unbuckled his trousers, pulling them down to his knees. Then she started massaging, running her fingers over his dick, over his balls, and he popped to a semi. It was on.

She pulled his dick out of his underwear, and lightly ran her fingers up and down the shaft. He got a little stiffer. So she bent down, holding his balls lightly in her hand, and starting sucking on the tip, then working her lips down the shaft, until his whole dick was in her mouth. She sucked it as slow as she possibly could, taking big licks up and down, lubricating it with her spit, sucking on it, trying to fill it and suck the cum out.

She was banging sloppy wet now, she reached down into her panties and starting massaging her clit, which was already swollen and throbbing. He still hadn’t woken up yet, and she pushed her panties down to her ankles and stepped out of them. Then as carefully as she could – by this point she was tripping hard off the idea of fucking an unconscious person – she straddled him again, this time sliding his hard cock straight into her glisteningly wet pussy. She sat down on it, fully pushing him inside all the way, she leaned back and he was all the way up in her, she was fucking him and his dick was so fucking hard! She started working it out slowly, because by this point every slight tense movement was sending shockwaves through her pussy and into her tits and her ass and up through her delicate collarbone and beautiful neck and her skin was tingling, now she raised up and down, sliding him almost out of her, but catching the edge of the tip of his dick in her slick, swollen lips, sliding back down on top, grinding her crotch into his, rocking fast and light back and forth. She was so pumped full of adrenaline, so scared, but so pysched on this moment, she felt everything, no sensation was getting away from her, this was her time, she had no insecurity because HE WAS OUT COLD, there was no HIM to get in the way of HER, his body was obviously enjoying it, and she could do whatever she wanted, and it all felt like some sort of strong upper, something vital and clean, and she was going to cum, she could tell, she was letting out little moans and squeaks, she felt no anxiety, no need to say anything, no need to reassure her partner – because her partner was as good as dead. But she wasn’t focused on that, she was an animal now, and she was fucking, and she was rolling it out, and she was cumming and cumming and she could barely breathe and she kept cumming and she was still gently rocking back and forth when Kelly walked in and screamed, “What the fuck are you doing YOU’RE FUCKING MY BOYFRIEND YOU CUNT WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING YOU ASSHOLES STOP! FUCKING STOP IT!”

As her beast self receded at the behest of her more literal mind, she felt the warm spurt of Paul blowing his unconscious load inside her. Kelly starting smashing her in the head with her purse, and as she got up and off his still inert form but rock hard cock, his semen started dripping out of her and down the inside of her long, supple leg.