Molly Peacock

Have You Ever Faked An Orgasm?

When you get nervous, it's so hard not to. When you're expected to come in something other than your ordinary way, to take pleasure in the new way, lost, not knowinghow

to drive it back to sureness. . . where are the thousand thousand flowers I always pass, the violet flannel, then the sharpness? You can't, you can't... extinguish the star

in a burst. It goes on glowing. That head between your legs so long. Could it really want to be there? One whimpers as though . . . then gets mad. One could smash the other's valiant head.

"You didn't come, did you?" Naturally, he knows. Although I try to lie, the truth escapes me almost like an orgasm itself. Then the "No" that should crack a world, but doesn't, slips free.