Author’s note
This is it, fellas. This is the thing the site was made for. A sex tragicomedy with semen in the first paragraph. You’re not going to like it, but you might not hate it. Or you might. Either of those. Don’t worry.
Musical note
“Beautiful Affair” by Stockton’s Wing. Doesn’t fit, don’t care.
The Story
Chapter One – Romance is dead.
“So, this isn’t going to be romantic,” he vouchsafed, as if the last forty five minutes had been like something Barbara Cartland had written. She could feel his prodigious spunk finally exiting her and beginning to pool on the bedsheets, and she hoped he had something for the four red gouges she had made in his shoulder as he had forced her legs apart to plunge his tongue inside her. This had not been forty five minutes of mucking about.
She sat on the chair beside the bed, determined to conceal her slight shiver as the cold evening air pouring down the mountainside through the open hotel window caught the trace of perspiration on her skin; some of it hers, some of it his.
She shivered anyway.
“Do you want me to close the window?” he asked, his face suddenly lined with concern for her naked body and a deep desire to ensure she wouldn’t seek to cover it.
“No. And what isn’t going to be romantic?”
“What I’m going to ask you. Or rather, ask of you.”
She thought she knew what was coming. There comes a time in every relationship since the 1978 revolution where a man tries to bring up either a threesome, a new TV or anal, and, to be fair to the poor soul, he had held off for almost a year now.
“Go on, then. Ask away. If it’s something I don’t want, I’ll tell you.”
“Yes, of course. Of course, and you absolutely should.”
“I will.”
“Good. Of course. So…”
“So? Listen, if it’s anal I’m not exactly experienced, but I think I could learn to like it. But I don’t really fancy sharing you in bed, or you sharing me.”
He looked a bit confused for a few seconds, tried to speak and then, apparently, fainted.
A man fainting is broadly not good, especially when, as in this case, the thing breaking his fall is the corner of a glass table and the connection is primarily with the side of his head.
As it happens, he wasn’t fainting, but experiencing what experts call ‘a big fucking stroke’, and the kindly coroner, a few weeks later, assured her that, even if he hadn’t suffered an extreme blunt force trauma to his head, he was unlikely to have survived anyway.
So, we’ve established that he’s a goner, right? And we’ve gone a few weeks later, so I don’t really have to cover the funeral, which she stayed away from out of respect for the family, and the will, which left her a company and the ongoing annoyance of his former family. She did what anyone in the circumstances would do. She went mad.