After some sumptuous Sunday morning sex, Curt and I were cuddling and snuggling and such, when he sneezed.

“I hope you’re not coming down with something,” I said.

As if to answer, he sneezed again.

“One more,” I coaxed.

“I don’t know if I have it in me,” he said.

I reminded him of what he said barely more than half an hour ago. “Come on, one more, you can do it.” It turned out I could.

“But that was cums, not sneezes,” Curt said.

“Don’t obfuscate,” I said, having no idea whether obfuscate was quite the right word, but I liked the sound of it.

Curt laughed.

We lay on our backs holding hands, relaxing.

“Do you think we should go to church?” I asked.

“Church?” Curt questioned. “What church? Why?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Isn’t that what people do on Sunday mornings after their Sunday morning fuck?”

Curt laughed. “Some people, I suppose,” he said. “Maybe people who think sex is sinful and have it only once a week.”

“Maybe they don’t think it’s sinful,” I said. “Maybe they think it’s special, and they go to church to give thanks for the sex.”

“Ha!” Curt exclaimed. “If we were like that we’d be going to church twice a day, and three times on Sunday.”

I considered this. “When we get old maybe we’ll get tired of sex, and we’ll have it only once a week.”

“Never,” Curt declared.

“We’d never have sex?”

“We’d never get tired of it,” Curt said. “My cock is addicted to your cunt.”

I let that sink in for a minute or so. “My cunt is addicted to your cock,” I said. “But what if we abstained from sex for a week? Sort of like a fast.”

“Why would we do that?”

“So when we resumed relations it would be even more special.”

“Relations,” Curt muttered.

“Or just to see what it was like,” I said.

“You really want to do this?”

“No,” I said.

“Good,” Curt said, and he moved on top of me and into me, and oh fuck was it good! I came like six or seven sneezes one right after the other.