Just the feeling of being inside her, the want to pull out and the pleasure to slam back in. And that’s the word for it now, slamming. Fasting, hard...r, at my limit and then beyond it. She says something but I don’t hear it over the sounds that we’re making, the wetness I’m pushing into, the bed itself making rhythmic thuds. Her legs arch up and wrap around me and I’m constrained, so I use it. I stop fighting. I push myself into her with shorter, more rapid bursts. It doesn’t last long. She. The words didn’t make any sense at first. The tree was still there, I would’ve noticed if it were gone. But I looked at the tree, really looked and I saw the horror that had been put upon our playhouse. The two branches, the ones just in reach, that formed a “V” perfect for small hands to pull themselves up with, had been cut. “He…he said that he couldn’t get under them on the lawn mower and he just cut them off,” Jeffery said. His voice was hoarse, I knew he was crying again. I didn’t look at. More

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