Fucking in the Rain by Candlelight

Normally, if I give my husband a good, mind-bending blowjob before telling him difficult news, it eases things and I’m likely to get my way – you know, a spoon full of sugar and all that.  However, I didn’t get a chance this time.  Here I was lying, rather lusciously I might add, in a king size bed, Egyptian cotton sheets carefully framing my tight Bruce Lee fit body, as inviting as any £6000 an hour courtesan could.  But instead of coming into the bedroom of our London townhouse, eyes popping from hunger (we had just been apart for three straight months while I was finishing rabbinical school in America) and mouth-watering (fresh pretzels, his favorite food, steaming on the nightstand next to the bed), he entered in with eyes red from anger and a mouth twisted in disappointment.  He dropped the half-completed application for a doctorate program at my feet so hard, I thought they’d sheared off my toes.  “I’ll be at my club,” he declared before storming out. 

Prayers

Desmond “Deetz” Mac Innes was starting his morning prayers and wondered if Hashem, one of the many names Jews used to describe the supreme being, would mind that he was naked while engaging in such a revertant activity.  I suppose it’s nothing She or He hasn’t seen before, Deetz said to himself.  In his rather bare private room in Churton Place, the London townhouse he shared with his husband and several members of their MI-6 special sections spy crew, Deetz lost himself in many activities – from yoga to Tai Chi, Zen Buddhist meditation to Druidic cleansing rituals, and from reading Spinoza to contemplating the words of Hillel.  After clipping to his tightly curled dark brown hair the beige yarmulke knitted by his younger sister for his 29^th birthday, he had to first rub the front of his scalp where Angus had pulled just a little too hard while fucking him last night – sometimes newbies just lose control of the situation and things get out of hand.   Deetz would talk to him about it later.  For now, the drafty air foretelling of an early winter snow storm made him reconsider nudity and he grabbed the pair of pants and tee shirt lazily draped over an old stuffed chair that would have been less out of place in someone’s 15^th Century castle.