place in a streaming porn video. So he was reassured that he had the makings of a future great lover, even if he was not one now.
His fucking escalated in rhythm and intensity. The boat was rocking, and he could hear the sounds of tiny waves splash-splash-splashing against the timbers. They were still drifting. The air was torpid and steamy, and he was certain they were being bitten by mosquitoes. His skin exuded a layer of sweat, as did hers. Periodically, his mouth dipped down to kiss her as he fucked her.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I love you too.”
He didn’t know if her answer was perfunctory. Did she love him as much as he loved her? Did she love him enough to wait for him?
He didn’t know then that he was about to have his answer the very next year.
He opened his eyes to look upon Elise’s rapturous face again. But it wasn’t Elise he was seeing. It was Abby, and her face is now thunderous and vengeful, like a woman who has been scorned at the altar.
“Justin, don’t stray from me or you’ll live to regret it,” she hisses.
*
Justin awakes from his reverie. He is alarmed. The four walls of the clinic still surround him. His wrist is aching from his frenetic masturbation, but his cock has gone semi-soft. The container remains empty. He has not shot his load.
At the door, someone is knocking.
“Mr. Morgan? It has been half an hour. We have a whole queue of people waiting for you to come out.” It’s the nurse. She sounds annoyed.
Justin glances at the clock. Oh shit. She’s right. Has he really spent half an hour in here trying to jerk off? He tries to rein in his panic.
He calls out, “I, uh, I’m not finished.”
Why does everything seem so loud? He’s certain the entire clinic is listening in.
“Mr. Morgan, your time has run out. You can make another appointment to come back tomorrow.”
Sheesh.
Great going, stud.
11
In the car, protected from the wintry weather, Justin keeps his eyes on the road.
“Don’t say anything,” he says.
“I’m not.”
Pause.
“It happens to everyone, Justin.”
“I thought you weren’t going to say anything.”
“I’m not.”
“You just did.”
“It’s just the clinic environment. All those eyes watching you.”
“They weren’t watching me. The door was closed.”
Elise doesn’t want to tell him that everyone was watching that door, wondering why the handsome, athletic-looking man in the well-cut, obviously expensive suit – who appears every inch the stud – doesn’t just shoot his jizz off and reappear as quickly as studly studs should.
She says, “Maybe we should try someplace outside of the clinic. Maybe we should go to a strip club.”
“What? Geez, Elise, what part of ‘don’t say anything’ didn’t you understand?”
“I was just trying to help. Meanwhile, my eggs aren’t getting younger.”
“It’s just one egg.”
“And it’s just one spermatozoon that I need from you.”
Justin groans as he flips on the windshield wiper to remove the snowflakes. “Tomorrow, OK? I’ll try again tomorrow.”
She stares at his profile. He has an incredible profile – a perfectly shaped nose and strong jaw. She remembers that very same profile silhouetted against the moonlight in her bedroom window on the last night they made love. The night she broke up with him.
“OK,” she says, reaching over and squeezing his forearm.
12
Justin returns to his flat, only to find the door unlocked. He curses, wondering if he has been careless. Then he remembers that Abby has a spare key.
He pushes open the door warily.
Abby is there all right, sprawled on his couch. Her hair is disheveled and her cheeks are red. An empty bottle of Jim Beam is set upon the table.
“Abby?” He sets down his briefcase. He has come from dropping Elise back at her inn, but he had gone to the clinic straight from office.
He goes to Abby, concerned. “What are you doing?”
She laughs
His fucking escalated in rhythm and intensity. The boat was rocking, and he could hear the sounds of tiny waves splash-splash-splashing against the timbers. They were still drifting. The air was torpid and steamy, and he was certain they were being bitten by mosquitoes. His skin exuded a layer of sweat, as did hers. Periodically, his mouth dipped down to kiss her as he fucked her.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
“I love you too.”
He didn’t know if her answer was perfunctory. Did she love him as much as he loved her? Did she love him enough to wait for him?
He didn’t know then that he was about to have his answer the very next year.
He opened his eyes to look upon Elise’s rapturous face again. But it wasn’t Elise he was seeing. It was Abby, and her face is now thunderous and vengeful, like a woman who has been scorned at the altar.
“Justin, don’t stray from me or you’ll live to regret it,” she hisses.
*
Justin awakes from his reverie. He is alarmed. The four walls of the clinic still surround him. His wrist is aching from his frenetic masturbation, but his cock has gone semi-soft. The container remains empty. He has not shot his load.
At the door, someone is knocking.
“Mr. Morgan? It has been half an hour. We have a whole queue of people waiting for you to come out.” It’s the nurse. She sounds annoyed.
Justin glances at the clock. Oh shit. She’s right. Has he really spent half an hour in here trying to jerk off? He tries to rein in his panic.
He calls out, “I, uh, I’m not finished.”
Why does everything seem so loud? He’s certain the entire clinic is listening in.
“Mr. Morgan, your time has run out. You can make another appointment to come back tomorrow.”
Sheesh.
Great going, stud.
11
In the car, protected from the wintry weather, Justin keeps his eyes on the road.
“Don’t say anything,” he says.
“I’m not.”
Pause.
“It happens to everyone, Justin.”
“I thought you weren’t going to say anything.”
“I’m not.”
“You just did.”
“It’s just the clinic environment. All those eyes watching you.”
“They weren’t watching me. The door was closed.”
Elise doesn’t want to tell him that everyone was watching that door, wondering why the handsome, athletic-looking man in the well-cut, obviously expensive suit – who appears every inch the stud – doesn’t just shoot his jizz off and reappear as quickly as studly studs should.
She says, “Maybe we should try someplace outside of the clinic. Maybe we should go to a strip club.”
“What? Geez, Elise, what part of ‘don’t say anything’ didn’t you understand?”
“I was just trying to help. Meanwhile, my eggs aren’t getting younger.”
“It’s just one egg.”
“And it’s just one spermatozoon that I need from you.”
Justin groans as he flips on the windshield wiper to remove the snowflakes. “Tomorrow, OK? I’ll try again tomorrow.”
She stares at his profile. He has an incredible profile – a perfectly shaped nose and strong jaw. She remembers that very same profile silhouetted against the moonlight in her bedroom window on the last night they made love. The night she broke up with him.
“OK,” she says, reaching over and squeezing his forearm.
12
Justin returns to his flat, only to find the door unlocked. He curses, wondering if he has been careless. Then he remembers that Abby has a spare key.
He pushes open the door warily.
Abby is there all right, sprawled on his couch. Her hair is disheveled and her cheeks are red. An empty bottle of Jim Beam is set upon the table.
“Abby?” He sets down his briefcase. He has come from dropping Elise back at her inn, but he had gone to the clinic straight from office.
He goes to Abby, concerned. “What are you doing?”
She laughs
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