He sat, alone, while his thoughts ran in circles. Through the walls, or perhaps the floors, he heard a faint moan increase in intensity. She had an orgasm. One big scream. Good for her.

Damn, he wanted to make a girl scream that way. He didn’t want to slam his cock into her until his seed slopped all over her. His hands could do that much faster. That was a fuck. A sexual fuck is intercourse without purpose. Fucks generate shit, shit is something without the purpose. He couldn’t fuck. He tried it once, he couldn’t keep it up for that. His mind just wouldn’t let him. What’s the point? Its like watching two cars crash together over and over. Fun for the first few minutes, but after awhile you start to wonder, where’s the fucking point? No, fucking wasn’t for him, fucking was for fucks, people without the purpose. He wanted to make love; he wanted to see her scream the good scream. That was the fucking point.