or, Everywhere I go I see straight people fucking
She climbs on top of him in front of the laughing group of pre-teens. Topless and beautiful she rides him through the waves. At first we want to give them the benefit of the doubt but it becomes clear what’s going on when he reaches a watery climax. We clap fervently.
He puts his hand in her on a park bench right next to us. We’re drinking off-brand energy drinks and he’s wearing salmon-colored shorts with sandals. She arcs her neck backward and sits up, legs open. It starts to rain and we watch without blinking. Good thing she’s wearing a dress.
Bodies grind against one another inside the tent, with only the occasional ass surfacing. A tangle of limbs and white wine glasses clinking. When they finally emerge for air, I smile because this time they are both girls.
L Scully (they/them) is a queer writer and double Capricorn currently based in Madrid. They are the co-founder and prose editor at Stone of Madness Press. Find them in the ether @LRScully.