We lay in the bed, in the apartment overlooking the sea, sex drying itself upon our skin, when I said to her: “Imagine your hole but that you’re inside yourself, looking at it from the opposite angle, and you see this penis, wet with your secretions, rise purply towards you, vanish, and then return again and again, rhythmically so that you begin to nod your head in time and outside your gasps are doing the same. Suddenly, the movements quicken, thrilling you higher – and then it stops. This bloated penis is there; swimming in the liquids of you and it”
“Hey,” she said.
“Yeah,” I replied.