It is loving, as loving as a blow job can be. She is tremendously patient, given that the chemicals that keep me alive also keep me from orgasm.
When it happens, it is not the predictable feeling i had expected. It is like those first few times, with Esme, where flesh is no longer the keeper of my spirit, and i am too aware of its connection to everything.
Then i am back in my bed, hardly able to breathe, as she releases her hold and collapses beside me, kissing my cheek and chest. The prerequisite words fall from my mouth: incredible, amazing - and while it is, their failure to capture the full experience instead trivializes.
i pray that this will be it, the one that makes me forget. But within seconds, i realize it is the same universe mocking me for exchanging my marriage for sex.
