Physic Sex

The lady told him about ‘Psychic Sex’,

    after she told him how that morning she sent her ex

a risky text,

   promising to stay celibate

until he was ready for her.

She told him that her ex enters her dreams at night

  just to fuck her.

She told him that she knows her ex is thinking about her

    when he has sex with someone else.

        She can feel it, she said.

And she told him that she can enter her ex’s unconscious,

    and have ‘Psychic Sex’ with him

whenever she wanted to.

    Sex is very sacred to her,

so he grabbed a copy of his book,

   and had her read the first poem in it—

which is about how sex is an exchange of energies.

    ‘A little death for a little death,’ he had written down five years ago after a Brazilian poet taught him all about ‘Tantric Sex.’ 

       He tried to explain how many times he had died in his life by fucking the wrong person in an unequal exchange of energies. He hardly had any of his soul left. 

Sex had become sacred to him, too. 

And after she read it,

   she looked at him differently.

She bit her lip,

   and fucked him with her eyes.

So much for the staying celibate bullshit, he thought. 

But he

   wasn’t interested in her.

No, 

   all he could think about

was how he could possibly have ‘Psychic sex’ 

    with his own ex,

or if that part was also bullshit.

So that night,

   he tried it.

And it was way hotter than he ever imagined it would be.

   As he laid in his bed, somewhere between being asleep and awake,

he pictured his ex in his head.

    He imagined her sweet lips on his,

before moving to her neck and kissing it.

   He could hear her moan.

He could feel her getting turned on.

   He reached down and slipped a finger inside of her.

She was very turned on.

    Then he imagined kissing her from her ankle,

up the inside of her leg,

     until he reached her ‘temple’,

where he spent some time there ‘worshiping’ it,

    before he got over top of her.

He brushed her hair out of her eyes,

    looked inside of them,

before slowly thrusting himself inside of her.

    They fucked and fucked and fucked.

She finished.

He finished.

   And then two minutes later, as he was still recovering, 

he did it again;

   but this time,

in his mind,

   he asked her to show him how she wanted to fuck.

And with a look of pure excitement in her eyes, she did.

   She blew him,

before riding him like a wild animal.

   She wouldn't stop,

or slow down,

    when he asked her to.

No, 

   she did the opposite.

      She rode him faster, harder and deeper.

He finished again, this time, inside of her.

   “It’s okay,” she said sweetly, cuddling up on top of his hair chest. “I wanted it inside of me.”

 “Why??” he asked her. 

     “Because I want to have your baby.”

“This is crazy!”

As he tried to catch his breath, he wondered if she actually felt any of it, or it was all in his head. It’s definitely all in my head. There is no such thing as ‘Psychic Sex.’ There can’t be.

Two days later, he tried it again, and again, and again, and again. Four times. He couldn’t stop. It was too hot. No pictures. No videos. Just ‘Psychic Sex’ with his ex. 

This cannot be healthy, he thought, with no regrets. 

    CH 3/12/26