Bones

Non-procreative sex is a socially adopted modern manifestation of the forbidden fruit.

He'd always thought the first girl he gave it to will be the girl he marries. It'll be like he'd always imagined the moment to be; passionate, consensual and memorable.

Their love had blossomed, innocently at first. But soon the innocence gave way. Not to the blasphemous or arcane. It was from the naive to the mature.

"Come with me"

His inhibitions went out of the window the moment she removed her top.

"Gone to the dogs in my mind" he thought to himself.

"Don't you wanna feel my bones, on your bones? Don't you wanna come with me?"

He hadn't understood everything she was saying. She was talking about swimming and diving. He was lost in her sex lingo.

"Don't you wanna feel my skin on your skin?

He thought about what his mum would say. He thought about all the care taken by her to keep him from questioning. Good boys don't ask such questions. Good boys are inquisitive of history and art. Not the birds and the bees.

"It's only natural"

He never really liked her. Her droopy breasts and slight paunch from too much beer. Her nicotine-tinged teeth and ash-smelling breath. She dominated him through her experience. She'd taken away his moment. Just like how she might have taken away at least another three guys' moments. At least that was how the water-cooler talk went. He felt his and her urgency of need. The lustful cravings of bodily contact. The momentarily loss of memory as his body arched and heaved.

As he throbbed to a still, he heard a voice. As if calling out to him.

"Wait till tomorrow, you'll be fine"

He'd always heard this voice. In the nights when he nears the precipice of carnal delights. The voice had always saved him.

But not tonight.