Mariam Bazeed


While in the process of being fucked from behind, how and whether you rotate your pelvis, to either work with or against the current and momentum of the insistent grunts arriving to your hearing left ear first, can and will have an effect on your own enjoyment of the process of being fucked from behind.

if your mind is on the dishes
whether there be a mountain 
or molehill of them

if your mind is on what you have to do 
this summer or next summer or what you should have done 
thirteen summers ago

and how long has it been, anyway, that that rip
in your new, expensive
—like, life-purchase-level expensive—
couch has been there?

to summarize, 
if your mind is hopping jerkily 
around anywhere it shouldn’t be

Bring it back to where the sphincter of your asshole is sucking at where it is being fucked from behind by throne_shaker2 and focus, focussss, breathe. Remember the Cosmo mags you and your sister read together though you’d likely been old enough that the two of you shouldn’t have been reading things like that together anymore, and once on her last visit from Cairo to New York and while breaking the pretentious black wax around the neck of the second bottle of whiskey into crumbles she’d asked you if maybe you thought that was part of why you’d turned out this way, hadn’t you always been a little you know, too close to your sisters?

But leave your sister and stale whiskey talk behind and bring your errant mind back to the content and not the context of your Cosmo memories and remember how often the sex magazine world discovered, and re-discovered, only to re-re-discover, that half of all good sex is breathing

—and breathe.

Swallow and bring your mind back.


Back to where it wants to be. 

While it is being fucked and its puckered flesh is being slowly, then not so slowly, persuaded to open, communicate, in bold bald terms, how much more savagely it is that you’d like to be fucked please. Tell him you want nothing more than to be torn at your finite edges please, nothing more than literally to split where the two of you meet please. You tell him that in addition to his cock please you want his mouth please and his tongue please but most of all, his teeth. Consider, while he brings his incisors down to pinch two fingers of skin on the back of your neck between them, and while with the insistent downward force of his own head he plunges your face back into sodden cotton, that the conquer of this one small sphincter on your one single body, is enough, you’ve been told, to shake the very throne of heaven.

 And how is it, you think, that they could have known?
But then it’s——


ground control to Major Tom.
   ground control to Major Tom.

may God’s Love be with you.

Though your brain is back to hopping jerkily all over the place while you are being fucked from behind with what now sure sounds like pretty crazy abandon from at least one half of the pair of you, continue making the noises you should be anyway. 

This is not solely for the benefit of throne_shaker2. Fake it till you make it! Yes, yes, you can reclaim the space of your body! Yes, you can start to feel it again, down to the webbing between your toes. 

While you are working to regain yourself, as you continue making the noises you should be anyway, it is good for there to be some kind of logic, some body logic, as to when you let a moan or a groan out, or when and how often you swivel your head and bite your lip as you look behind you at the person fucking you, with crazy abandon, from behind. For example, your enjoyment will seem much more genuine to the person fucking you with crazy abandon from behind if you moan consistently when he thrusts into you the deepest, or the shallowest, or the middlest; whatever the case may be, pick a depth and stick to it. That way when you are being fucked with crazy abandon from behind, you might appear to actually be enjoying being fucked with crazy abandon, from behind.
If you can do none of these things, whether you rotate your pelvis, or whether you don’t rotate your pelvis, will have little effect on your enjoyment of the process of being fucked, with crazy abandon, from behind.
Weed can help with this! Ask for a break! 

There are any number of reasons people do this, any number of reasons people ask for a break while being fucked, with crazy abandon, from behind. One might for example need a break to go to the bathroom, assuming one is having the kind of sex that keeps bathroom liquids and solids separate from being fucked, with crazy abandon, from behind. One might need a break just to breathe, so overwhelmed might one be by the prowess, the pure athletic dynamicism of their super duper dynamo stud. One might simply be pausing momentarily before moving into a different, more comfortable, or less comfortable, or more open, or less open, or more frictive, or less frictive, or better-for-the-knees, or fuck-the-knees, kind of position. Though a break of the just-resettling variety will afford you less time and less opportunity to do what it is you actually need to do.
At any rate, if you are being fucked with crazy abandon from behind by someone who thinks of themselves, on the sex positivity side of things, as being Very Extremely Progressive and like, really very GGG, you will not need that much of an excuse. “I need a break,” you can say, and that will be enough. Before rustling out of bed to find the joint in its drawer you’ve prepared ahead of time, make sure to wait until it’s been long enough, make sure to give a few breathless pants in the general direction of your fellow throne shaker, before you begin, all of you nonchalance, to light up. The timing on this can vary but wait long enough anyway that the smoke break you are taking won’t be so obvious as a smoke break—there is nothing less sexy than the visible need to refuel. But make your stomach quiver some and throne_shaker2 will smile with the pleasure of conquest and you will maintain the narrative of having just very much enjoyed being fucked with what sounds like pretty crazy abandon from behind, else you will have to explain why all the moaning then, why, if it wasn’t really doing it for you.
After a drink of water so your mouth no longer tastes like skunk, return yourself to being fucked, with crazy abandon, from behind. 
Negotiate the return to coitus however it is you must. If you like putting your face in the mattress and closing your eyes, leaving the point and process of re-entry up to fate, then put your face in the mattress and close your eyes and leave the point and process of re-entry up to fate. 

He will take you, like so much someone else’s body. 

Inhabit yourself.
Re-inhabit yourself.
Re-re-inhabit yourself.
Re-re-re-inhabit yourself.
Re-re-re-re-re-re-re-inhabit yourself.
your face to your face and       your chest to your chest and
your stomach to your stomach and       your penis to your penis and
your asshole to your asshole and       your thighs to your thighs and
your calves to your calves and       your feet to your feet,
                                                                  down to the webbing between your toes. With your grasping hands reach for the skin of throne shaker behind you, and breathe, and breathe.

*The title, throne shaker, is in reference to the belief, located in some people’s understanding of Islam, that when two men have penetrative sex with one another, God’s throne shakes with the violence of His anger.

Mariam Bazeed is a non-binary Egyptian immigrant, writer, poet, storyteller, and performance artist living in Brooklyn, NY. She is completing an MFA in fiction from Hunter College, and is at work on her first novel. Mariam’s poetry and prose have appeared in print and online. She has been a Margins Fellow of the Asian American Writers’ Workshop, and an EmergeNYC Fellow at the Hemispheric Institute for Politics and Performance at NYU. She has been a resident at Hedgebrook and Marble House Project, and has been accepted to the Lambda Literary Retreat for summer 2018. Her theatrical work has been presented at La Mama Theater in NYC, the Arcola Theatre in London, and at the Wild Project in summer 2018. 

Mariam runs a monthly world-music salon in Brooklyn, and is a slow student of Arabic music.