Devil. Angel. Switch!

***

I'd never been the stereotypical male who falls asleep immediately after an orgasm. At least, not up through my late fifties. After then, I didn't get all that much sex, or seek it out. I had been drowsy after a few of the sessions with LuAnn, but some of that was because we'd banged late at night. I guess this frolic was more intense and demanding than the others, because after we had finished each other off, I was on my side, she was on her back, we were kissing, I had my arms around her...and that's how I woke up, with her still asleep.

We stank, and our points of contact were drying from stickiness, and I was glad to be no closer than the edge of her exhaled plume. I wasn't sure that there were workable muscles in the arm I had under her. My eyes and throat were painfully dry. But the sight and feel of LuAnn gave me an odd combination of contentment and morning wood. I kept my contact with my lover as gentle as I possibly could, hoping that she would awaken only when she was ready. The hand on top stayed on her ribs, and didn't rub the breast meat that rested against it.

It struck me, then, that I hadn't dreamed of Myra.

Was I free?

Had I somehow convinced Myra to leave me alone?

I felt not the slightest desire to inject a pound of fentanyl and seek Myra in the spirit world.

So was another drug at work? Oxytocin, the 'cuddle hormone?' Did an all-night armload of LuAnn brew enough oxytocin in my brain to nudge me away from suicide?

With the job finished, I'd get no more daily doses of work-related cortisol.

All of this kept my mind occupied for a few minutes, until the gradual awakening of my body made me aware of what my bladder needed to do.

I stayed put, in ever-growing discomfort, until LuAnn stirred. Her eyes half-opened. I kissed her. She smiled, and wriggled, and said, "Is it morning?"

"Yeah," I said. "Can I let go now?"

She blinked a couple times, and looked at me in surprise. "You really did it!"

"Sure did," I said, "but I have to stop now. Be right back."

Laughing, she let me disengage. I shed the remaining wreckage of the costume.

How much detail is necessary here? One hand kept the johnson steady over the commode while I shook the other arm back to operability. The important thing was that I was finished with the plumbing before LuAnn needed it.

Once she returned from the bathroom (which, excuse me, her presence had made into a powder room), we resumed the hug, although this time I got my other arm under her. We were still grubby and malodorous, but I wanted the hug as much as she did.

"Someday," I said, trying to direct my breath away from her face, "I'll explain why I've been weird for a while. I think the hugging may have helped stop that."

"That felt so nice," she murmured, stroking my side. "You're not the only one who wants to feel loved."

"So, I'll hug," I said, a bit awkward on the wording, "and I'm glad you like it. But it was a good thing for me too."

The blue eyes searched mine. "So even though you're my cuddling angel, I don't have to be your licentious devil," she said, "unless it's a good thing for me?"

I looked away. "That would be fair."

Her hand slid to my crotch. "I suppose I could get through quarantine boredom," she sighed, "by amusing myself with this."

The shlong and stones were wrinkled, with hair pasted onto them, and here and there were patches of gunk. Giving me a calm smile, LuAnn closed her entire hand around them securely, fondly, with no hesitation.

So...a certain affair wasn't just good for Diego, but also for her. And in ways that were good for me.

"I don't think I can describe," she said, nestling into me, "how happy I am right now."

She licked her lips. Slowly. Audibly.

***

I got a nice payday for fattening the Halloween stores' bottom line.

LuAnn put her house on the market, and I did the same with my condo. We split the down payment on a three-bedroom that she thought had decor prospects, while accepting that one bedroom, available to visitors from my extended family, would look ordinary.

We've upgraded the master bathroom, getting a tub with jets.

She will still never be a libertine. But she happily dons figurative devil horns in the privacy of our new lovenest. She can now deliver an excellent blowjob, sometimes during a titfuck. She's now openly eager to have her pussy licked.

By alternating arms each day, I can get through overnight cuddling.

I've cooked up several psychobabbles about my dreams. Like, by accepting what LuAnn would do with and for Diego, I came to value the happiness of others, and got over my selfish misery. So I could think and act for myself in the dream, and tell Myra that my love was for the living.

The thing is, I also like the effect of the oxytocin, on Lu and me both.

Whatever the reason, Myra's ghost hasn't returned. Maybe I've lost my chance for a hot afterlife. Guess I'll have to compensate during my pre-death.