"Spider Robinson - Copyright Violation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robinson Spider)

But then to my vast astonishment our clothes seemed to melt away and we were
naked and touching and she was warm and slippery and it was just sort of
happening. No: it was not sort of anything. It was most emphatically happen-ing.
And happening.

The Physical Aspect:
I have no frame of reference except for what I've read, and the accounts all
conflict. You tell me: is it normal for a twenty-five-year-old male losing his virginity
to experience eight orgasms in four hours, without ever completely losing the original
erection? Does a woman's tenth orgasm in half an hour usually trigger an hour-long
continuous climax? I'd always assumed those Penthouse letters were fantasy. And is
it always that noisy? And wet? And glorious?
For the record, we did everything I've ever heard of that can be done without
additional cast or esoteric equipment and doesn't involve former food, former
people, or animals. We did make use, from time to time, of candles, neckties,
scarves, shoelaces, a little water-color paintbrush, her hairbrush, butter, whipped
cream, strawberry jam, Johnson's Baby Oil, my Swedish hand vibrator, a fascinating
bead necklace she had, miscellaneous other common household items, and every
molecule of flesh that was exposed to the air or could be located with strenuous
search.

The Mental Aspect:
So that's what it's like to feel virile! Fas-cinating. Heady. As sweet as it's cracked
up to be. Potentially addictive. Primitively stirring. Part of me wanted to go punch
some son of a bitch—in a little while ...
 Part of me wanted to dedicate my remaining life to thanking her, even
though—perhaps because—she was making it clear that she wanted no more thanks
than she was getting. Hyperalert for pretense as only a virgin can be, I was cer-tain I
was genuinely pleasing her.
We knew each other, in more than the purely Biblical sense. At least, I seemed to
come to know her more intimately, more quickly, than I have ever known anyone,
not excepting my parents, and she, being more experienced than I, surely learned
more than I did. She learned things about me that no one else had ever cared to,
things that I didn't know. My grandmother's heirloom rocking chair collapsed under
us and we howled with laughter together.
We touched each other.

The Spiritual Aspect:
Oh my God I'm not alone anymore! Even if I never see her again after tonight,
I'm not alone anymore. Trillions of my cells, stamped with my identity, have left my
shores and established colonies in another being—and it doesn't even matter if all
the colonies end up as dead as Jamestown or Jonestown: I'm not alone anymore!
This isn't another test shot, another dummy run targeted for a handful of Kleenex,
this is a genuine launch. My sperm have achieved spaceflight. God, they cry,
dying on Mars, we made it!
Thank you, God, for this crazy stranger, for granting me these memories to
cherish; I never really believed in You before ...

And inevitably there was an ending. I think that in my last round I finally lost the
last shred of fear—the subconscious suspicion that any minute I was going to wake