Disclaimer: Ray and Fraser are owned by Alliance. But they have much more fun in my mind than Alliance ever let them have.
Summary: This continues my F/K bondage series, Another Life.
This is a sequel to the story In Another Life.
Fraser "instructs" Ray on the rewards of being patient.
Thanks to J Hardin for reading and to both J Hardin and Maxine for
discussion/idea tossing.
I vaguely remember having to stretch like this, kind of like this anyway, in high school, when I was on track. During warm-ups. Hands over your head, reach--
Except, really, it was nothing like this.
Can't see a damn thing. Again. As usual. He keeps blindfolding me when we've barely gotten started. That's some new thing he's doing. I guess so he can lead me around my own apartment and surprise me with stuff.
Stuff like this. Okay, I knew there were pipes in the bathroom closet, pipes that come into the bathroom for the shower and all. And I knew the bathroom closet was behind the shower. I just didn't ever bother checking the pipes. You know -- why would I? Nothing was broken, so nothing needed fixing or checking.
But, of course, Fraser figures out there's these pipes and they come into the closet from the bathroom above and they come in real high, like a couple feet below the ceiling. Not that the ceilings in this building are high -- maybe nine feet? I dunno -- but they're higher than I could touch unless I did my Michael Jordan imitation.
And who but Fraser would look at those pipes in the bathroom closet, and look at me, and think, "Ah. A good anchor for restraining Ray"? I swear, I got him started on this stuff and blammo, he's the bondage computer. Where to tie me up. How to tie me up. What to tie me to. What to do to me when I'm tied up...
So tonight I walk in and throw my coat on the chair. And he's waiting for me, and he's not in the Serge. And I know what that means -- the same thing it's meant for, hell, ten, eleven nights running. He takes the Serge and his riding pants and all that off when he's got wicked plans for me. I haven't said anything about that, but I've noticed it. When he's not wearing the Serge when I walk in, I'm guaranteed a wild ride. When he is... well, then it's my turn to take him on a wild ride. 'Cept that hasn't happened for a while... Not since I tried to hold his wrists while blowing him and I ended up holding one wrist and he held onto the bed frame.
So anyway, I walk in, throw my coat off, and he's wearing a flannel shirt and jeans -- freaky man. They're ironed again. He meets me at the door, like he usually does. I kiss him and hold him and inhale that Fraser scent like I usually do. He holds my hands and then he holds them tighter and puts them behind me and I only strain against him a little. Just enough to let him know there's a little fight in me. But who am I kidding? He's gonna do all kinds of wacky things to me and I'm gonna let him and we both know it. So, like, I guess I'm just pretending to resist -- and only barely.
Anyways, he takes my handcuffs and cuffs my hands behind me, which is one of the ways he usually gets me where he wants me to be. He pushes me around him, and into the living room. Okay, okay, fine.
Then he goes to the coffee table and picks up one of my ties. I swear ta God, I am never ever gonna look at neckties the same way again. If we stopped doing all this tomorrow, I'd still see neckties and think of the kinky things you can do with them.
So I know what's coming: he's gonna blindfold me. And he does. Okay, I'm yours, Frase. Surprise me. Do those funky things to my body that you do. Cuz I love it.
And so then he starts pulling me towards my bedroom and I'm thinking, okay, the bed frame it is, Frase.
And then he stops. I head him open a door, but now I'm confused. I can't tell if it's the bathroom closet door, the bathroom door, or the closet across the hall from the bathroom.
And then he says,
"I'm going to uncuff you. But I want you to put your hands over your head when I do. And keep them there."
"Okay, Frase," I tell him. I feel him gently uncuffing me. Ever since that one night, he's totally paranoid about the handcuffs, but I told him I like them, even if we're not actually using them in bed.
I put my arms up over my head.
"Clasp your hands together, would you?" he asks. So I do.
"Good," he says quietly. Then, "Would you stand on tip-toe a moment, Ray?"
So I do. Then I feel him grab my hips. He's undoing the button and zipper of my pants. Like, booiiiinnnggggg. I'm hard. Can't help it. I just know whatever happens, he's gonna make me come like a geyser. And when you know that, how can you not get hard?
"All right, you can stand normally for now. And unclasp your hands and let them rest at your sides," he tells me. So I do and my arms come down.
He's lifting the edge of my shirt. I put my arms up again so he can take my shirt off me. Then it's off me, and I can feel how much cooler the air in the apartment is than I thought. He opens my pants more, and pushes them down a little, but only 'til they're just at the edge of my hips... not enough to actually give my cock some room to move.
Then I feel him pick up one wrist. He knows all these incredible knots. Who knows how you do them with neckties? But he does. And he ties my wrist but he doesn't tie it to the other wrist. So I'm wondering what's going on.
"Arms up and hands clasped, again, Ray," he asks me again.
So I put both arms up and clasp my hands together over my head. He grabs me by the hips and starts moving me, so I go with it, and take small steps forward, sideways, backwards, backwards. I feel the shelves of a closet against my bare back and my ass.
"Don't move, all right, Ray?" he asks me. So I nod, and I just stand there with my arms over my head, my hands clasped together. The end of the tie on my one wrist dangles down and tickles my armpit.
He comes back and I hear him put a chair down. Now I'm starting to really wonder what's going on. And, of course, this just makes me harder.
"Can you lean back a little, Ray?" he asks me. I feel his grip on my forearm. He must be standing on the chair. "Stretch yourself into a curve, like the bow from an archery set."
"I don't know if I can do that, Frase," I joke, but I arch my back and stretch up. I feel his hand move up to my wrists. He bends my arms at the elbow, a little, and then I feel them against the top edge of the closet door jamb, I guess. It must be something like that. He grabs the end of the tie which was starting to tickle me, and then I feel him tying the other wrist. But it doesn't feel like they're tied to each other or to anything else.
Until he lets go of them, and I realize I'm gonna be on my tip toes because my wrists are tied to something way over my head. And I can't bring them down. Even pulling on them, there's only a couple inches of give.
"Um, Frase, I'm, uh, pretty stretched out here," I tell him. It should be obvious: I bet every one of my ribs shows.
"I know," he murmurs, and then his hand gently strokes down my chest from my collarbone to my sternum, and past that to my stomach. It's flat, of course, because I'm so stretched. And his stroking hand tickles and feels good and I shiver.
"Uh, so what's the plan, then, Ben?" I ask him.
"I... haven't decided yet," he says slowly. The hand on my stomach is suddenly gone. I hear the chair move and the air moves beside me. Then the hand is back on my stomach, but moves down to my... lower belly. And eventually it is in my pants.
He squeezes his hand around my hard cock and I moan.
"Oh, no, no, no," he tells me. "Just one moment."
Okay, so now I wonder if this is what it feels like to be one of those sides of beef, hanging from a meat hook. Except that my feet are still on the floor... sort of. The balls of my feet. My toes. Not my heels.
But he's back, now, I hear him moving close to me. His hand gently strokes down my stomach again, to my pants... and pushes them down. All the way down to my ankles.
Then I feel him tying my cock and balls up like he's been doing a lot lately. Okay, okay, I can go with this. I know it's gonna feel good in the end...
Then I hear and feel him move away. The heat from his body is gone. Into the bathroom next to me. He comes back, close to me.
"I'm going to leave you here, Ray, until you're ready."
"Ready? For what?"
"For me."
"Fraser..."
"I've ordered a pizza, Ray, which I know you like. It will be here within the hour, they said."
"I don't mind waiting for a pizza, Frase, but -- like this?"
"Do you object to this?"
I think about this. "Well, no, not exactly... it's just kind of uncomfortable."
"Yes, I know," he tells me.
"So, okay... okay. Fine. How long do I gotta hang here? 'Til the pizza comes?"
"Or until I decide to free you."
"Okay..."
Suddenly his body is pressed against mine, and his mouth is on my mouth. That can't be too easy, because my head is a little thrown back on account of I'm being stretched like a bow.
"I'm not real good at waiting, Frase," I joke when his mouth goes away. "I'm not real patient."
"You will learn patience, Ray," he says. And then I hear him walk down the hall and into the kitchen.
I don't know how long he's gone, and I hear him in there, puttering around. Then he goes in the living room, I think. My stomach muscles feel so tight and stretched. My chest too. And I've got an itch on my left side that I can't reach, of course. I wriggle to kind of scratch it, but that doesn't work. I don't mind my arms stretched tight over my head so much... But this bein' up on tip-toe stuff sucks. I try to shift my weight from one foot to the other, and that works, but not real well.
"Fraserrrr..." I call to him.
"Yes, Ray?"
"I'm getting kinda sore," I tell him.
"Nonsense. You won't be sore after I massage your body."
"You're gonna massage me?"
"Yes, I think so."
"When?"
"After the pizza gets here, I think," he tells me.
"How long is that?"
"About five minutes less than it was when I told you before. In less than an hour."
"Fraser! I need some relief here!"
"Oh, all right," he says, and he sounds kind of amused and pouty.
I hear him come down the hall and feel the heat of him up close. Then I feel it.
A touch, ever so slight, just above my skin, but close enough that it stirs the hair on my body. It starts at my elbow, which is over my head. Then it moves slowly to my armpit, making me squirm.
"Fraser--"
"Shhh, Ray," he whispers.
The ticklish fingertip strokes across my chest from armpit to armpit, tweaking my nipples along the way. I jump a little, and I can feel the tie around my cock and balls getting tighter. Except I don't think it got tighter, I think I got harder.
The fingertip just grazes my flesh and moves down my chest along my breast bone and down to my navel. It stops there, does a circle around my navel, and then hesitates. But it doesn't touch my cock, even though my cock is so close to it! I try to buck my hips but his fingertip is moving again. It goes sideways, out to my hip. Strokes down my hip. The hair is standing up on the other side of my body, it feels so freaky and cool. The fingertip traces the line of my butt cheek, and then travels down the back of my thigh, makin' me squirm more.
"Fraser!"
"Doesn't it feel good, Ray?" he whispers.
"Yeah, but--"
"Don't worry, Ray, don't worry," he whispers. And then the fingertip is just barely tingling, coming up my thigh--
--And his hot wet mouth is around my nipple and sucking. I practically jump off the floor.
"Ahhh, man! Gimme a little warning, Frase!"
Then the mouth is gone from my nipple.
"That would defeat the purpose, Ray," he whispers, and I feel his breath on my chin. And a hand between my thighs. But though he moves it up and down, between my thighs, running the length from my knees to my balls, stroking, stroking, stroking... he never touches my cock.
"During medieval times, Ray, there were a variety of penances men of the cloth had to do for sexual infractions. This was at a time when the idea of priests being celibate was still fairly new." Oh, great. A history lesson while he's strokin' my thighs and getting me excited. And religion, too? Great!
"At any rate, in the thirteenth century," he continues, still stroking between my thighs, "there were a variety of penances for the various acts. One of the acts more stringently dealt with was homosexual interfemoral intercourse."
"Interfemoral?" I repeat. I never heard of it. God, my cock is throbbing, feels like it's drooling pre-cum. He's turning me on, majorly. My arms are up over my head, stretched and tight. My chest feels the same. My stomach is flat and tight, my thighs are stiff and stretched. And they feel every detail of his hand slowly sliding up and down between them. Then he decides to change it a little -- he starts moving his hand in and out between them, instead of up and down.
"Yes, interfemoral. Interfemoral intercourse wasn't really intercourse insofar as it did not involve penetration. Interfemoral intercourse is rubbing the penis between the thighs of one's partner."
Now he squeezes his hand into a fist and my thighs really feel his hand moving. He switches back to stroking up and down between my balls and my knees.
"Fraserrrr..."
"It might have felt something like this," he whispers, and then his hand is gone and I hear him unbutton and unzip his jeans. Oh, yeah. Give it to me, Frase. Interfemoral or whatever, I don't care!
I feel something very hot on the front of my thigh and I know it's his cock because I can smell that special Frasercock scent... But also because nothing else is that hot -- unless you've got a fever.
"Yeah, Fraser, yeah..."
"Shhhhh, Ray," he whispers. And then I feel him put that hot cock between my thighs. And he starts thrusting it in and pulling it out, and he puts his hands on the outsides of my thighs and pushes them together so the friction is tighter.
"Yeah..." God, I can feel his cock moving back and forth, just under my balls, between my legs. I wish I could grab it with my thighs but not when I'm standing up on tiptoe like this, stretched out from head to toe.
"Shhhh," he whispers again. And this time I feel his entire body pressed up against mine. He takes me in his arms and wraps them around me. His shirt is soft and flannel-y against my chest and stomach. His thighs are warm against mine and his cock is hot between my thighs. He kisses my chest, sucks a nipple, and thrusts and thrusts and thrusts between my legs. I can feel his cock starting to move jerky, not smoothly. He's leaking pre-cum too, I bet... that's what probably made things go from smooth thrusting to sticky jerking back-and-forth.
"Oh, Frase..." that mouth still sucking on my nipple. Then he switches to the other nipple. He's practically picking me up off the floor. Partly because I'm only barely standing on it, and partly because he can rub between my thighs better that way.
"Ray..." he says, around my nipple, which he holds in his teeth. But he doesn't bite it, not exactly. He just kind of... grips it with his teeth.
"Yeah, Frase, yeah..."
I feel his arms loosen around me and then the flannel isn't up against me anymore and his hot cock is gone from between my legs.
"Hey!"
"Sorry, Ray, you'll just have to be patient. It won't be long now."
"Fraser!" I wriggle and writhe and as usual I'm securely restrained.
"Patience, Ray," Fraser says, and I hear him pull up his jeans and zip them. Patience!
"Fraser!" I yell after him as I hear him walking down the hall.
"Soon, Ray. Soon."
Oh, God!
Then the doorbell rings.
"Oh," he says, sounding surprised. "That was much sooner than I expected."
"Let me down, Frase. I'm hungry."
"I'll feed you." I hear him go to the intercom. "Who's there?"
The tinny voice says the pizza guy.
"Come right up," he says, and then I hear him pressing the buzzer button.
"You're gonna leave me this way?" I ask him, freaking.
"Oh, Ray. No one can see you from the front door, and I won't let him in."
"Fraser!"
"Now, Ray, if you want everyone to know that you let yourself get tied up on a regular basis, just keep making a lot of noise."
There's a knock at the door. I shut up. I hear Fraser walk down the hallway.
"Hello," he says, opening the door. I listen hard. The guy says it's $17.50. Fraser gives him a bill and tells him, "Keep the change."
Then the door shuts.
"Fraser! Let me out of these ties!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Ray. I planned to teach you patience and that is still the case."
"Fraser!"
I hear him move into the living room. The smell of pizza comes to me and now my mouth is watering and my stomach is growling and I'm still stretched out and can't move, can't hardly keep my toes on the floor..
"Ray, would you like some pizza?"
"Hell, yeah," I say from the darkness behind my blindfold.
"All right." I heard him moving down the little hall towards me again.
But he doesn't let me down. He just holds a piece of pizza up to my mouth.
"C'mon, Ben. Let me down. Please."
"No, that's all right, Ray. If you really need to come down, you know what to say. Here, take a bite of this pizza. It's delicious. I ordered it with pineapple on it, just for you."
He ordered it with pineapple. For me.
I open my mouth. The edge of a piece of pizza enters my mouth and I bite and chew it. Swallow. Open mouth for another bite.
He feeds me about six bites. Then that's it!
"Fraser, I'm still hungry."
"Well, Ray, I don't want your... exertions to make you sick to your stomach, so I thought it best to limit your food intake until after I let you free from the ties binding you."
"But-- but--"
I hear him walk away. Damn!
"I'll be back shortly, Ray. Have patience."
"Patience! I'll give you patience!"
"Now, you wouldn't want me to have to gag you, Ray, would you?" he says. He sounds perfectly innocent -- but since I know he's not, I shut up and just mutter to myself.
I hear him in the kitchen and then the living room. It seems like it takes forever for him to come back. My arms are sore and feel like they fell asleep. My legs are trembling from holding myself up on tiptoe with my hands stretched so far over my head. There's a crick in my neck. My stomach's jumping. My skin feels cool; the air in the apartment seems cooler.
Then I hear him come back down the hall. I don't say anything. Now I'm ticked off at him.
He goes past me into the bathroom and I hear him open the mirrored cabinet. Then I hear him close it.
He comes back to stand in front of me.
"All right, Ray, I'm going to massage you now," he says.
I hear him flip the top off something.
"Oh, wait just a moment," he says, and then he's walking away to the kitchen again. God! I'm gonna kill him!
Then I hear the microwave. The microwave? For what?
It beeps pretty quickly. Then I hear him again. He's coming back.
"Here, Ray. This will feel very nice," he says.
And I feel his warm oily hands grasp my arms at the elbow. My elbows are both on either side of the top of my head, because of the way I'm strung up, so he's getting oil in my hair. But I don't care. He massages down my biceps and triceps. He kneads my upper arms. Then his hand moves away and I feel more oil being rubbed on my arms... and into my armpits. I squirm with the ticklishness of him massaging my armpits.
"Fraser, you're massaging my armpits."
"Doesn't it feel good, Ray?" he whispers.
My cock is throbbing like a second heart. Still tied, I remember. Fraser moves his hands across my chest, massaging my pectorals and my sternum, my ribs, my lats. The strong pressure hurts a little, but when it's gone, there's a dreamy relaxed feeling in the muscles. I feel his strong hands move across my chest and then down, over my stomach. It's curved with being stretched and he's right: this feels so good, this massage with warm oil. Everywhere his hands go, there's a slight initial pain/tickle, and then, under his hands, everything gets to feeling liquid and relaxed and relieved. If only he'd touch my cock...
"Fraserrrrr..."
"Shhhh, Ray. I told you it would be nice. Patience."
I can't even speak anymore. I just moan when his hands move down to my hips. They slip behind my hips and massage my butt cheeks, pulling me up against him and his jeans. I feel his denim wearing thighs up against my own.
"Oh, Frase..."
"Shhhhh. Good, yes?" he whispers. The hands come back around to the front and massage my pelvis -- everywhere but where my cock is. My hips. My thighs where they join my hips. He's massaging everything and it feels like I'm gonna explode except I can't.
Then the hands start oiling the insides of my thighs. My cock feels like it weighs four pounds. It wants to get off so much, but it can't.
Fraser moves his hands up from in between my thighs to right behind my balls. Oh, God! He's rubbing me there -- fine, if you're gonna do that, then just stick a finger in my ass, why don't you!
But, no. He doesn't. Just oils me between the thighs and oils my balls and massages me behind the balls. His slippery fingers move over my hole, but they don't go in.
"Fraser..." I sound like someone else. Ragged voice, shaky, whispering.
"Almost there, Ray," he whispers back. "Believe me. It will be wonderful, I think, when you're finally let down from there."
And then I feel the warm, slippery hands on my cock. I practically lurch with the sensation. But I can't come. I can only thrust -- and not very well, since I'm trussed up pretty good here.
"Fraser, please, c'mon, let me come, please, c'mon..." Uh-oh. I'm in the begging phase again. But I just want to come.
Then I feel his hand slip between my legs, back past my balls, and almost pick me up -- I feel his hand pull upward, there's a pressure that feels like it's inside the base of my cock...
"Fraser--"
"Ray, hold still." He pulls his hand out from between my legs. Then I feel his hands on my hips. They slide from my hips back around my butt cheeks, then move down to the backs of my thighs. Then they slide down to the backs of my knees. And then he starts pulling them up.
"Fraser, I don't think I can--"
"Of course, you can. Just let me," he suggests.
He lets one knee go and pulls my left leg up and massages it. The pressure on my wrists increases a lot -- I've only got one foot on the floor. My thigh is tingling, warm, liquidy. He lets it back down and picks up my other leg. He massages it, from the top of my thigh to my knee, to below my knee to my calf. Standing on only one foot, and that on tip-toe, I have to grip him with my leg to stay upright. Or at least that's how it feels. His hands are so strong, it feels like they're going into my thigh... rearranging the muscles and relaxing them. He unwraps my leg from him and lets it gently back down.
He lets go of me, and the stretch of my whole body is back. Only now it feels so good, warm, liquid, relaxed... and I wanna come, wanna come, wanna come...
I hear him unbutton and unzip. Then the sound of fabric. Then his warm skin against mine. My nipples get sucked, slowly, one at a time. Then he presses his cock between my thighs and does that interfemoral thing. But all I wanna do is just get off!
But pretty soon he's lifting my legs by the knee and hiking them up. And I'm not hanging on to anything. The neckties around my wrists, tied to the plumbing pipes, hold me up. They tighten, hard, when my feet are both off the floor. It's like my hands are little heads, being executed by hanging. All I can do is use my legs to grip Fraser.
Who, as it turns out, oiled his dick. Because it feels slippery under my ass. Or is that just from the oil he put on my thighs? Doesn't matter, I guess. He moves my calves up higher, pushes my knees up. I feel every shelf of the closet in my back, but I don't care. I feel the head of his cock against my ass. And then I think he's starting -- but no! He's just sticking his finger in. Then another. My cock throbs. My body's on fire. My balls ache. I just wanna come.
"Fraser... please. Come on."
"Soon, Ray, soon."
"How soon?"
He doesn't answer. But suddenly the head of his cock is at my ass and he's pushing and -- and I feel the head of his cock go in. Oh yeah. I try to use my legs to jerk him tight against me.
He thrusts the rest of the way in, to the hilt. I'm squirming, filled, trying not to moan and whimper. He pushes my legs up and moves them so my ankles and calves are over his shoulders. Then he starts really fucking my ass. And it's so good and I know what he's--
I feel the silk around my cock and balls begin to loosen. Then his teeth graze my nipple. I jerk and the binding on my cock and balls comes away, and I'm impaling myself on his cock -- no, he's impaling me. And I feel everything gathered, ready to explode. Then he starts pumping me really hard, banging my back into the edges of the shelves behind me, but I don't care--
I feel the spasms of my ass around his cock and that's it. I'm spurting, feels like I'm coming hard -- but when don't I come hard with him, since we started fooling around this way?
Each spurt seems to drain more outta me, until I'm just quivering and shaking and moaning.
"Shhhhh. It's all right," he whispers. I feel him lean all the way up against me, and I'm pretty much bent double. His cock is slipping out of my ass, but not because it's soft.
"Did... did you come, Frase?" I can barely speak.
"No, Ray."
"Oh." It takes a few seconds for that to sink in.
"But I would like to."
"No problem. However you want... I'm all yours... " I'm babbling now. This is your brain on mind-blowing sex.
I feel the weight of my body return to it again and I slide my legs down from him and back to the floor. I'm actually standing on my own two feet -- well, their toes. He moves away from me, and I hear the chair moving again. I feel his fingertips at my wrists and then my arms drop at my sides, one at a time, as Fraser unties each of them from the plumbing pipes. My heels hit the floor and I almost fall. I feel like a fucking rag doll -- again. This is getting to be a very familiar feeling. My legs shake and I feel around me, 'til I find the doorknob. There are shelves behind me -- I brace my arms on the closet doorknob and a shelf behind me, and lock my elbows, so I don't sink to the floor like the puddle of mush I feel like. 'Cept my elbows and arms feel rubbery, too...
My blindfold is pulled off me at the same time as his hot mouth is on mine. He kisses me hard and strong and demanding. Pulls me away from the closet. Okay. Okay.
He picks me up, hauls my ass over his naked shoulder. Weird, the view of the floor from almost six feet in the air, and the movement of air over my ass. He sets me back on my feet in front of my bed. Pushes me gently and I sit down on it, right behind me. I lay down, then, pull my feet onto the bed, and roll over onto my stomach, my hands at my sides.
"Here," he says, and pulls on my hips until I pick them up. Then he stuffs the pillows under my hips and gets on the bed.
"Go, Frase, just go. Give it to me. Ride me. Come..." I whisper.
"Yes..." I feel him move behind me, feel his hot body over mine. And then his cock enters me. I spasm again, but it's just an orgasm aftershock. I moan.
"It doesn't hurt, does it?" he asks, pausing.
"No. Just feels... so good, so right," I whisper.
"All right."
"As hard as you want, Frase. As hard as you need."
"As you wish..." he replies quietly.
He takes a few shallow strokes. But then he starts pounding my ass. Ramming it into me hard and fast and if I hadn't come just a few minutes ago, I'd be coming again. He just knows how to fuck me so right.
"Mmm, mmm, unh, unh, oh, oh..." That's another new thing: he's loud now. I mean, not that he's really loud -- but he was so quiet before, any noise seems loud.
"Oh, oh..." He's shaking and spurting in my ass. "Ray, Ray, Ray," he whispers over and over, as his body jerks against mine.
"Frase..." I can feel his body slow down and then stop. He lets his full weight down onto me -- or at least most of it. And he moans. And slips his arms around mine, like one of those straps they use to strap you to a gurney in an ambulance. Across your chest like. But these are his arms.
And they feel like they'll never let go.
We slide sideways off the pillows so we're side by side and he's still inside me. I'm sure everything's covered with oil but I don't care. All I know is I got him and he's got me and we've got this new, mind-blowing thing, too. And it's all working out just right.
end