SUNLIGHT PENETRATED THE HIBISCUS and carefully pruned live oaks growing alongside the architecturally ambiguous California house. It filtered through the arched windows and dispersed fuzzy shafts of light, which fell upon our bodies writhing in ecstasy. Well, I mean, we were writhing and it was ecstatic—at least from my point of view beneath him.
Oh yeah, I remember chanting over and over. Oh yeah, Baby, yeah.
You’re so sexy, he kept telling me, which made me moan again and again, of course; to which I’d say, God damn, you’re good, and You’re so fucking great. You know, the usual things people say while in the throes of physical passion.
In between my moans he’d tell me, You make me so horny, Baby, and Yeah, Baby, I love it when you scream. As I recall, both of us were probably saying Yeah, Baby somewhat excessively.
You make me scream, I remember screaming. He really was incredibly hot—a fantasy man—handsome, penetrating green-gold eyes (among other facial attributes) and a body like a Greek sculpture come to life.
Believe me, I was into it when it was happening, so forgive the seeming detachment from the event. It’s a bad habit I’ve developed during my career assisting other people resolve their legal disputes—emotional distance. But I assure you, I was right there and apoplectic while it was in progress.
He wasn’t from California, or even an American. But so what? I found him a remarkably generous lover and maybe that’s why.
I want to make you see the stars, he’d say. And the way he said it—the stars? I…Oh, my God, the stars!
I remember glancing out the window at the oaks—the stars weren’t out—in all their green-gray glory, swaying in the afternoon breeze, and I felt like some wild animal in nature engaged in a deliciously beasty act. And then I lost all sense of place and time. Could it have been love? Or just desire? I don’t think it mattered at the time.
Oh God... I’m coming! I screamed.
Yeah, come on, Baby, come! he urged me unnecessarily; I’d already started down Orgasm Drive—I didn’t need any help.
And so I came, over and over I came, and it was—words fail, really. But it was unbelievably great—the best I’d ever had, which I realize is what I always say after too long a time between orgasms. It’s just that I don’t want to take anything away from the event or the man. Men need to know, after all, that they’ve improved the quality of your life in some way.
The earth moved as it hadn’t in far too long, and I did see stars—danced among them, to tell the truth. We came together in a release of consummated, long pent-up desire, which we’d finally acted upon with abandoned joie de vivre on that quiet Wednesday afternoon on the daybed in the solarium of my suburban Los Angeles home. In one final explosive burst of sexual ecstasy, we moaned together with unparalleled pleasure, and then he collapsed upon me. There was nothing left in either of us, such was our mutual effort and joy. I was completely spent.
My new lover was dead.
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