In the past, I was all about pleasing the woman. That would be Heather, my wife, who was the only woman I'd ever actually made love with. Like my daughter did, I make a distinction between "fucking" and "making love." I lost my virginity in high school, but barely remember it, to be honest. I was scared to death, and so was the girl, and it wasn't worth remembering, for either of us. But when Heather and I got married, it was like a whole new world of pleasure opened up ... for both of us, I'd like to think. She'd try anything once, just to see if it was good for either of us. If it was, it went on the menu. If either of us didn't like it, then it got discarded. And I'd gotten very good at making her happy.But that had been years ago, and I was both a different man, and a man who was suddenly in a place he hadn't thought he'd ever be again. I admit I went a little bonkers.I rolled her over and started grinding into her, biting her neck, not hard, but over and over. I was growling, and. When he finally entered me, I had a vision of being a vessel in which we could sail to the place that would welcome us, where our problems would cease to be. I moved my body to match his rhythm, to hasten our journey to this higher ground. The bright light grew and grew in my mind’s eye and my body and burst in such an explosion to rival any fireworks invented. Our movement diminished, then stopped, leaving only the sound of our breathing. I opened my eyes after a deep sleep that night and saw a faint streak of light in the sky signaling that dawn was close at hand. I stirred and realized Sasha was not in the bed. I looked around and saw him sitting in the window seat. I slipped out of the futon and stood behind him with my hands on his shoulders. ‘Look, it’s getting lighter. I think I can see the mountain,’ he said. ‘Bring the quilt over here and we can watch the sun rise together.’ I brought the quilt over to the window seat. I sat in front of him and he wrapped his arms around.
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