From Paris to Bangkok

"What?" I said. "It's not a strap-on. This present you got me is really for you," I said.

"Hmmmmm," was all she said, as she gestured, motioned, and massaged me so I was on my back in a position more familiar to her than to me, with my ankles resting on her shoulders.

She slid the dong into my butt, pressed her yoni against the base of it, where the egg vibrated against her clit, and she massaged my vajra with both her hands, her breasts and beautiful face framed by my hairy legs, and she said, "I'm going to make you cum on my tits and my face while I fuck you," she said.

"You sound like such a slut when you say things like that," I said. "Say some more!"

She said, "I love the way you let me get in touch with my inner slut and let her come out to play."

I told her how hot I thought she was, how sexy it was to have a woman give you a present that came with a quote from Playboy, how us guys are always trying to share our favourite magazines with women, how other women had put them and me down, all the time, and how other women had reacted negatively to my vajra, saying, "Get that big thing away from me," or, at best, "Are ya done yet?" and posted No Entrance signs across their butts, but she got me something that doubled my vajra and almost begged me to stick it up her butt.

"You're great," I said. "You're the ulti-mate."

However, I could not cum on her breasts and on her face, although I wanted to and she wanted me to, as well. I tried standing up with her panting on my vajra, holding her breasts with one hand and massaging her yoni with the other. It was the climax to two or three of the hottest hours of my life, with the greatest wild sex ever, but I could not ejaculate.

"Come on," she said. "Spray me with that fire hose. I want your cum all over me, from my crotch to my eyes!" but I think wearing that cock ring for hours had done something to my ejaculatory ability.

I read somewhere you're only supposed to wear them for a half hour or so, when you have an erection, which made me wonder what good they were, or who they were for. Anybody into tantric sex has an erection much longer than that. Maybe they were meant for premature ejaculators.

"That's not you," my lover said with a sad smile.

"Don't worry," I said. "Maybe we'll have the climax to this session of lovemaking in bed, later tonight, and I'll fill all three of your orifices with semen."

"Okay!" she said as though I had lit a new light under her hopefulness.

However, that was not meant to be either.

After all that hot, wild, lovemaking, I said, "I can walk again!" since the pain at the back of my foot had gone away.But I started coughing, after we stopped making love, and I had to take a lot of medicine for my throat and go to bed.

My lover joined me, after we showered, and we fell asleep in each other's arms, our legs wrapped like complicated human pretzels, with some soft kisses and many murmuring of "I love you I love you I love you ...."

In the morning, my lover found me sleeping on her couch, after a coughing fit, so I wouldn't wake her up, and she could sleep through the night. She gave me a hard time for leaving her alone in the bed, so she woke up to find me missing, and said she wouldn't have mind hearing me cough in the middle of the night.

"I love you," she said, "even in sickness."

It sounded like part of that well-known phrase used in marriage ceremonies ...."In sickness and in health ...."

It reminded me of an article on love and marriage in Psychology Today my lover had left out for me to read. It was all about how to pursue your inalienable right to happiness, hot sex, true love and that soul mate who "must be out there somewhere". It seemed sort of negative, starting with a sub-heading that asked "How do you turn a good relationship sour?" and it was titled "Great Expectations", like the Dickens novel about poverty and dashed expectations.

It said nothing has produced more unhappiness than the concept of the soul mate and it listed seven myths that killed marriage: All you need is love. People don't really change. My spouse doesn't know how to listen. When you get married you create your own family legacy. Egalitarian marriage is easy. children solidify a marriage. The sexual revolution has made great sex easier than ever.

The article was by a freelance writer named Polly Shulman, who recommended a book called 101 Thins I Wish I knew When I Got Married, and said things like "The realization that we're not going to get everything we want from a partner is miserable. I t is also a necessary step in building a mature relationship" and "in a society hell-bent on individual achievement and autonomy, working on a difficult relationship gets the short shrift" as well as "we're in commitment limbo, keeping one stealthy foot out the door of our heart even when we care deeply for our partner" and the big one: "We get the divorce rate we deserve as a culture".

That last comment was quote from Peter Kramer, a shrink who wrote a book called Should You Leave?

The article started off by declaring that marriage is dead! It said the twin vises of church and law had relaxed their grip on matrimony and we had been liberated from the grim obligation to stay in a poisonous or abusive marriage for the sake of the kids or for appearances. It pointed out that the divorce rate was stable, at fifty percent, for the past two decades, and suggested marriage had become a sort of spectator sport -- we liked to watch people enter into marriage and then get divorced the way we liked watching reality t.v. or game shows about marriage and divorce.

"Long live the new marriage!" Shulman said. "Now we want it all -- a partner who reflects our taste and status, who sees us for who we are, who loves us for all the "right" reasons, who helps us become the person we want to be."

That sounded pretty good to me.

But then he turned negative, again, saying "We've done away with a rigid social order, adopting instead an even more onerous obligation: the mandate to find a perfect match."

I didn't think that was an onerous obligation.

He said the problem with that was the fact we were left wondering "Is this all there is? Am I as happy as I should be? Could there be somebody out there who's better for me?"

And then, he said, we all fall victim to our great expectations.

He defined a soul mate as someone who will counter our weaknesses, amplify our strengths, and provide the unflagging support and respect that is the essence of a contemporary relationship.And he claimed that the reality is that few marriages or partnerships consistently live up to that ideal.

He quoted a shrink from Atlanta named Frank Pittman for his belief that "Nothing has produced more unhappiness than the concept of the soul mate."

I laughed.

"I wouldn't want to get too attached to that idea," I told my lover. "I've found my soulmate, my anum cara, my true love, spirit twin, and it makes me ecstatic. I believe we're finding the way to make this love last, too, so it seems as though the infatuation stage goes on and on forever, with everyday ecstasy, like a never-ending honeymoon."

However, even as I was saying that, I felt a tickle in my throat, a cough coming on, as though I wasn't really saying what I wanted to say or speaking my truth.

But I didn't know what I wanted to say that I wasn't able to say.

What was it?

Did I want to propose, ruin everything by insisting that we live together, maybe get married?

Sure, I thought about those things a lot .... Was that what was making my foot hurt so much and my throat constrict? Was it because I wanted to walk into the future and something I felt a big need to say was holding me back?