Aug 6, 2014

"Guilty sex is good sex" --- This is heaven (teaser)

Alex and John are spending quality time in John's bedroom. Context: (a) there was this bizarre intermezzo between Taylor and John, of which Alex witnessed the beginning; (b) Barbette Bienpensant, Juliette's sister, is a professor of metaphysics; (c) there was this bizarre episode in Juliette's hotel room, with Alex administering a post-coital checkup (not what you think); (d) there was this bizarre episode between Alex and Godehart; (e) the boys had the opportunity to discuss Shishito peppers on the menus of San Francisco restaurants.

It's over the top, folks, this teaser, and short, and unsafe for work. Enjoy.

“I’m glad about Taylor,” Alex says, “nature loves symmetry.”
“Guilty sex is good sex.”
“How would you be able to compare, with your amnesia?”
“I’m pontificating, you’re right. But still, makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“You had no reason feeling guilty,” I say.
“Well, I made up for Godehart, didn’t I,” he says. “The exchange of bodily fluids lubricated by the trade of guilty feelings.”


"The exchange of bodily fluids lubricated by the trade of guilty feelings." 

I slip under the blanket and hope for his hair-fidgeting routine. He doesn’t bite though, his hand lands on my thigh.

“What really concerns me are your stares into Brigitta’s cleavage,” I say.
“You must be kidding.” he says. “How about my stares into the abyss of metaphysics?”
"Abyss of metaphysics?"
"I mean Barbette's cleavage."
“She has no cleavage.”
“Well, she doesn’t have a bulge. The way you stared at Taylor’s bulge. Jeeze. Eye-provoking. That’s an expression, isn’t it, eye-provoking?”
“Thought-provoking is an expression.”
“I ask because I’m thinking about the inversion. Taylor’s bulge was eye-provoked. How his package mushroomed under your stare. You willed it with your eyes. Never seen that before.”
“Your memory is coming back?”
“Apparently. I’m positive. Never seen that before. You do this all the time?”
“Crotch-staring? No, never. Must be your influence.”
“I don’t stare at crotches.”
“I don’t administer post-coital checkups.”

He laughs, then turns his eyes to my crotch under the blanket.

“Now, John, let’s be serious. Is it really true that sex is better when you feel guilty?”
“I don’t remember. I barely had sex for four years. I told you.”
“Plus, you are always feeling guilty, isn’t it?”

There is a silence.

"Ensconced," Jack Cowan (2001)

“Anything left in the fridge?” He gets up, disappears in the kitchen, and returns empty-handed. He splays out on the bed, hand on my thigh.

“I seem to recall some sources say semen communicates your state of mind. Something about the taste. Sounds a bit bienpensant perhaps. ‘Bienpensant’ is a word, isn’t it? I wonder how your semen tastes right now.”

"I wonder how your semen tastes right now." 

He pulls the blanket away. “Where’s your jizz?”
“In your ass.”
“Where’s mine?”
“In my mouth.”
“And? How does it taste?”
I munch on the residue of his goo. “Buttery flavor, a hint of lavender, thyme, lime,” I say (just to say something).
“Lime, that’s my gaze into Brigitta’s cleavage. Give me a kiss, French.” We kiss.
“Mmh,” he says. “French, Italian, honey-mustard. That’s Godehart, of course, honey-mustard. But there is something else. Shishito, perhaps? Shishito is metaphysical, isn’t it? Bienpensant’s non-cleavage. I think we need another sample.” He rolls his head, self-consciously. “Why don’t you stare a bit at my crotch?”

Are you still there? Then you'll possibly like the GREEN EYES. The first part is out now, available as Kindle book on Amazon, under this link:

Night Owl Reviews

Go here for the previous teaser of This is heaven, here for the next one, and here for a selection of chapters of the Green Eyes.

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