Menen Masterbates

After hours of refining and restructuring a single paragraph, Menen now bug-eyed and delirious, extends his right hand to the Mountain Dew bottle on the coffee table. He appears mortified to find it covered with a slippery substance. With such weighty topics, he obviously cannot be bothered with mysteries now. He knows only one thing in this moment -create.

He quickly consumes the ambrosia, and returns to his masterpiece. Unfortunately the elixir of life has an agenda all its own. It works with incomprehensible grace, its radiant glowing fluid seducing him again.

Although the movement of his fingers on the buttons has increased, his eyes are glossy now and he is making mistakes that could take hours to correct. Deductive reasoning apparently at full throttle, he says aloud, "Ah, I took a drink from the bottle when we were having sex. There must have been lubricant on my hand."

Devoid of resistance, imagery of the sexual depravity between the two warm-blooded bodies washes over him. The waves of memories engulf him as if he were a small stone in the sand. The decadence, the yearning, utterly and effortlessly consumes him.

His fingers leave me now. It has won. Awaiting his return, I mark where we parted and blink silently.

At the precise moment his hand slips beneath his belt, a subtle yet unmistakable moan of ecstasy escapes from his throat.

Was that a smile on his face?