She awoke to soft light and the tweeting of birds.

Their hotel room was facing the wrong way to see the dawn, but she could see flickers of motion outside: birds hopping around, some people down on the beach in the blue pre-dawn, and even the roll and drag of the waves outside.  Their bedroom had a balcony, and she realized they had never used it.  Gently she disengaged herself from her husband's arms (noting in passing his erection nestled between her legs—why was he erect now, while asleep?) and padded out onto the balcony.  She hoped no one decided to look in her direction: she still wasn't wearing any clothes.

Inwardly she marveled at herself.  She had overstepped more boundaries in the last twelve hours than in the whole rest of her life combined.  Not only had she finally managed to do it with her husband, but she had enjoyed it.  And, she had done it with her sister and brother-in-law in the same room.  —While they were doing it!  This wasn't the sort of thing a normal woman did, was it?  Compared to that, venturing outside in the pre-dawn cool without clothes on seemed a minor transgression.  And, she had to admit, it felt good to be out in the open air.  She could feel the breeze everywhere.

She took stock of what had happened since the last time she woke up.  The whole point of this exercise had been to get her to be intimate with Patrick; and, though it had taken three days of effort, she'd finally succeeded.  In retrospect, she wasn't entirely sure why it had been so difficult.  What was to stress about?  It was just another form of sharing, wasn't it?

But at the same time, she understood her own hesitation.  She had been thinking of it as solely as a physical exchange, something that she would do for him (and to have babies) but for no other major reason.  When Kerri had told her there was an emotional component, she hadn't understood at all.  But she'd seen some of it when she first used her mouth on Patrick; and now that she had finally done it with him, it all made sense to her.  There was so much more to it: being the seat of his pleasure, seeing his face, feeling his body tremble in her grasp.  And then on top of that were the physical sensations itself.  Kerri had been right, she'd never been able to make the connection between the physical joys of sex and the emotional content—nor between the physical joys and the physical activity.  Boy, she'd been a mess.  Good thing we finally got it all worked out.

Of course, all these thoughts were beginning to make her body tingle.  Or maybe it was the breeze.  Or maybe it was the thought of her husband, lying there unattended, with an erection all ready to go—one that, maybe, she could take advantage of.  Silently, she slid back into the room.

Patrick had rolled onto his back in the short time she was gone, the arm that had sheltered her flung out to the side.  She stood next to the bed for a moment, trying to contemplate how to do this.  She wanted him to stay hard, but she knew that she would need to get worked up, at least some, before she could receive him—which was what she wanted.  She could always masturbate, she supposed...  But she wanted him awake and participating, if possible.  How was she going to do this?

Fortunately, he solved the problem by blinking awake as she climbed up on the bed.  He saw her, and his eyes lit up with a smile, and she realized how she must appear: on her hands and knees, crawling towards him, her breasts hanging down.  "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," she said, and draped herself across him.

They kissed for a little, but it wasn't long before she was peeling back the covers to get at his body, to kiss at his nipples.  And soon he was reaching up to play with her breasts, to cup them in his palms.  And soon she was reaching below to find his erection, still proud and warm and waiting; soon he was reaching below to find her secrets, the soft skin there, the crinkled hair and delicate petals.  When his hand reached it, she gave over her pursuit of his erection and let him work—his fingers gentle, massaging the skin of her underside, sliding in between her lips, probing her entrance and then finally—finally—making contact with her clitoris, with that tender little bud that made her feel so good.  Soon she was wet and wanting, her nipples tight, her loins tight too—tight with need, with the need to be filled.

She could see the surprise in his eyes, the questions, and she knew they were valid; but she decided not to engage in them.  This was a horse she would not look in the mouth.  Instead, she led his hand away, and then moved to straddle him the way she had seen Kerri do.  A little manipulation, and he was poised to strike; then she sank down on him, bringing him in as deep as he would go.

It took a few tries before he was fully seated inside her, but soon she had him all; her buttocks rested on his hips, and their pubic hair made a mesh between them.  It was a different feeling to be on top of him: completely aside from the matter of not being under him, his manhood was entering her at different angle, pressing against the front wall of her passage while the root brushed her clit.  Tall and erect upon him, she felt brazen, like a proud-breasted amazon with nothing to be ashamed of.  And what did she have to be ashamed of, anyway?  Nothing here.

She leaned down to kiss him, feeling the way he shifted inside her, pushing at her walls, touching off corners and crevices she didn't know she had.  His arms wrapped around her, bringing her closer to him, one hand stroking through her hair.  "I wanna do this every morning," she breathed.

He chuckled a little.  "Well, I wouldn't object.  But...  Next time at least give me a chance to go pee."

"Why?"

"It...  Men don't last as long when they have to pee.  That's why we're hard in the morning: having an erection locks off the bladder so you can't pee."

"Well, I'll keep that in mind for the future," she told him with a smile.  "But for now, how close would you say you are?"

"Umm...  Pretty," he said, chuckling.

"Good," she said.  "Then hold on tight, honey.  I'm gonna give you the cum of your life."

"Umm, sweetie..." he said, catching her with a hand.  "It doesn't...  It doesn't have to be about me."

She kissed him.  "No, it doesn't.  But this time, I want it to be."  And he said nothing as she withdrew and prepared to ride him to orgasm.

He was right; it didn't take long.  But it was long enough to be good.  She felt the flexion in her thighs as she moved upon him, up and down, and then back and forth as she found a better rhythm, letting the distance do the work for her, caressing his length with her passage.  She grasped his hands in her own, using them to balance as she moved.  His hips rose to meet her at every downstroke, their bodies rocking together in perfect rhythm.  She felt her nipples tight in the morning air, her breasts upturned; his eyes on her, devouring her body.  She heard his low moans, his gasps, the sounds she drew from him to mingle with her own; she felt the way his manhood twitched inside her with each intense burst of pleasure, felt the way she clenched down on him when he hit a perfect spot.  And above all she felt his penis within her, that magnificent massive thing—rubbing past her clit with every motion, his head pressing its way in and out, the pressure on the back wall of her vagina as she used her hips to stroke him, maneuvered him inside her to touch every perfect spot, driving them both onward towards their pleasure.

She saw in his eyes when it was about to happen, and she let go of his hand to reach between them.  A moment of searching, and she had found his testicles and the base of his shaft, to cup them gently: what she had seen last night, she wanted to feel today.  And felt it she did, as orgasm rushed through him: she felt the wrinkled skin of his scrotum contract, and then the muscular contractions in his shaft (and even down into the patch of skin between his balls and his anus), the pulsing tension there, feeling it happen there in her hand as he groaned and pushed up into her, holding himself there as his pleasure overwhelmed him, as his body clenched and his manhood throbbed within her, letting loose its seed, filling her with the warm white consummation of their love.

She moved back down and kissed him on the cheek.  "That's how I should've been greeting you every morning.  Hopefully today makes up a little for the last few days."

"Oh god," he gasped.  "Oh god.  Baby, if that doesn't make up for it then nothing could."  He pulled her down to kiss her again, and this time pulled the covers over them.  And so they snuggled, kissing in the early morning light, his penis still seated deep within her.

He was still there when she woke up next.  The sun was up properly by now, and there was light coming in through the windows, and more noise.  She had fallen asleep sprawled atop him, and evidently he still needed to pee, because he was still hard within her.  It was a different feeling, to have him inside her when she wasn't really aroused: there was still moisture there, perhaps left over from their previous bout—Her moisture?  His?  Then again, how would she tell?—so it wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't precisely nice either.  She was intensely aware that there was something inside her—and not in a sexy way.  She stirred a little—despite all, she didn't want him to leave her.

"Hmm," he said, "good morning."

"Good morning."  She smiled and kissed him.  "It's good to wake up this way.  In your arms."  She giggled.  "Even your penis is still inside my vagina."

He gave her a look.  "You know, you don't have to call it that."

"Oh?" she said.  "Why, what should I call it?  I think 'peter' sounds silly.  And so does 'wee-wee'."

"You could call it my dick," he said.  "You could call it my cock."

"Your cock?" she said, giggling again.  "Oh, great, and what animal name does my part have?"

"Umm, pussy, actually," he said.

"Those don't match at all," she said.  "What does a cock have to do with a pussy?  One's a mammal, one's a bird. Couldn't they have at least got that right?"

"Well, you could call yours a flamingo if you wanted," he said.

She rolled her eyes.  "Right, that's attractive.  But in the meanwhile..."  She wiggled her hips.  "Now that your, ahem, cock is in my flamingo—or pussy, or whatever—what do you think we should do about it?"

"Well, if you're planning a wake-up session like earlier, first I wanna go to the bathroom," he said.

She shrugged, remembering his earlier comments.  "I suppose I could let you do that."  Carefully, she disengaged from him, extracting his penis—cock—with care before climbing off him.

"And then," he said as he rose, "we're gonna do this properly."

"Do what properly?  Pee?"

He looked at her with a smile.  "You and me."

When he returned he took control of the situation, immediately moving to cover her.  Almost without preliminary he moved to her breasts, licking her nipples, and then nibbling them, and then sucking on them; she moaned, feeling the resurgence of heat down below as his attentions caught her attention.  When he reached below, she knew he would find her wetness already beginning, and was glad.

"It...  Seems to be working," he said.

"It does," she said.

"What do you think the difference was?  I mean, you're not drunk now, are you?"

"Umm...  I dunno."  It was strange to be having the conversation; and it was strange to be having this conversation now: she on her back, one knee up, while he reclined on his side, his semi-erect penis (cock?) flopped sideways and slowly beating to life, one arm under her shoulders and the other hand between her legs, covering her whole area (pussy area?) to taste her wetness; both of them stark naked.  "I dunno.  No, I'm not drunk now.  But..."  She reached up to trace his jaw line with a finger.  "I think it was just getting past the insecurities.  You saw me—I was working myself up like crazy, trying to...  I mean, it was like this mental block in my head.  I just couldn't get over what was happening—or rather, what was not happening."

"Insecurities," he said.

"Yeah.  I was just...  I mean, you know me.  I was focused really hard on the idea that I needed to get, you know, turned on...  And that focus just kind of, you know... precluded it."

"Yeah.  You were concentrating so hard that it couldn't happen."

"You'd think that was backwards."

"No, not really.  Sex is something pretty subtle.  You have to be open to letting it happen.  If you focus on other things..."

"Then how come things are happening now?" she said.  His fingers were still at work, gently massaging her area and sending gentle shocks through her body.

"Because you're not concentrating," he said.  "You're relaxed, and we're just having idle conversation.  And besides, you know now that you don't have to concentrate so hard, that it works better if you just..."  His hand did something, and she shuddered with pleasure.  "Relax..."  He did it again, and breath left her in a gasp.  "And let me take care of everything."

She twined her arms around his neck and drew him down for a kiss.  "I will."

It took her a little while to really understand what was going on down there, but eventually she realized he had slid two fingers inside her, and was using his palm to stimulate her clit.  He knew what he was doing, no question about that; pleasure coursed through her as his hand pressed against her, his fingers probing inside her.  Soon she was squirming, her body arcing up off the bed as she pressed her clit down into his hand; her vagina (pussy?) clenched with each tremor.  He was still kissing her, his lips showering her face with little butterfly kisses; she tried to respond, but there was too much going on for her to focus.  With each tremor of her body she felt as though she was trying to squeeze him out of her, that every movement of his hand against her was channeling some sort of force or energy into her... an energy that would soon become too much to contain.

Finally it was there, and she felt herself shudder; the tension knotted inside her to the breaking point, and then burst open, flooding her with release.  She felt it rushing out of her, flowing out onto his hand through her clenching pussy; and even as she came he did not stop, but kept up his ministrations, driving her even further into her pleasure.  When her body had finally exhausted itself she fell back down to the bed; and when she opened her eyes she understood why he had not used his mouth as he had before: so that he could see her, watch her face as she came; and so that when she was done, his face would be right there for her to kiss.

Of course, it wasn't just kissing that she had in mind.  Even as her lips met his, she was reaching down for his waist, trying to bring him over her.  He didn't understand at first, but eventually she managed to herd him into position—between her legs, over her, poised to strike.  Then she reached between them and guided him in.

He sunk to the hilt in one go.

She wanted to be his, all his; with her hands she urged him higher up her body, until their hips were practically parallel and his chest towered over her face.  The position had an advantage she hadn't expected: every movement caused his cock to rub against her clit, sending spikes of tingling pleasure through her.  Of course, because of the position, it was harder for him to thrust, but she solved the problem by bringing her legs up, giving her more leverage to meet him.  It took some trying, but soon they had developed a rhythm as they rocked back and forth.  It was gloriously good: she could feel his muscles flexing against her, hear the thunder of his heart when she pressed her ear against his chest; his arms encircling her head, the wonderful weight of his body pressing down on her.  And, because of their position, their movements were limited; they rocked back and forth, her body caressing his erection, he stimulating her inner walls, but he could not move out, he was trapped within her.  It was not a limitation she had any cause to regret.

He lasted quite a lot longer than he had the first time; what surprised her was when she came too.  She could feel the tension build in her, feel her muscles contracting involuntarily, clenching around him and his wonderful cock; her breasts were his pillows, her nipples pressed against him; his weight bore down on her, a wonderful pressure as she nipped at his collar bone.  And then suddenly it was there, and she was moaning, her head falling back as pleasure overflowed her, her pussy clamping, her chest heaving, her body shuddering in release.  And then he gave a moan as well, and she felt him push deep into her, felt the clenching in his body, the twitching of his cock, the rush of his breath, the warmth of his seed.  And then they collapsed together, limp, protoplasmic, draped over each other in exhaustion.  She felt dissolved, as though she had no shape or form anymore, just a gelatinous goo for him to fall into; his strengthless form felt much the same.  "I love you," they breathed, "I love you."

And they might've fallen asleep again right there, but Kerri knocked on the door and said, "Hey, you guys, are you coming down to breakfast?"  And Amanda mustered all of her strength and replied, "Yeah, we'll, we'll be out in just a minute."  It was a little longer than a minute, actually, but finally Kerri had herded them through the buffet line and to the breakfast table.

"You guys seem a little slow today," Kerri said.  "Did you get enough sleep?  Did something happen after we went to bed?"

"What?" said Amanda.  "Oh, no, no, it wasn't...  Nothing like that.  We just..."  She looked at Patrick.

"We were, umm.  Enjoying ourselves," Patrick said.  "When you knocked.  —Well.  Rather, we had just finished enjoying ourselves."

Kerri exchanged an eyebrows-raised look with Winston.  Winston said, "So, what happened last night: it stuck?"

"Yeah, it's still...  It's still in effect."  Amanda gave a shy smile.

"So you can...?" said Kerri.

Amanda nodded.

Kerri gave a squeal of delight and sprang forward to hug her.  "I'm so happy for you!  Isn't it great?  Isn't it awesome to be able to, you know, to be there, and to make your man feel so good?"

Amanda, feeling a bit overwhelmed, laughed and said, "Well, yeah, it...  I mean, I knew it would be good; I knew I would enjoy making him feel good.  But I didn't know it would make me feel good too."

"You've come a long way," Winston said, smiling.  "I mean, this time a week ago you weren't even married."

"I know, I didn't...  God, I thought it might take me months to get over everything," she said.

"And you have me to thank," Kerri chirped.  "Me and Absolut.  Alcohol to the rescue!"

After breakfast, Kerri wanted to get started immediately: she had found a tour of the island's cultural-heritage sites, statues and meeting places and old palaces.  It looked fun.  But first Amanda and Patrick insisted that they needed to take a shower, since their normal morning ablutions had been displaced by sex.  Patrick suggested that they shower together, to save time.  Amanda agreed, and promised herself to be efficient.  But he was right there, his warm tall body, his broad shoulders and even his manhood, looking bigger than ever now that water was plastering down his pubic hair...  Well, how was a girl to resist?  She knelt in the water to suck him to life; she had every intention of finishing, and maybe even swallowing, but instead he picked her up (He picked me up!!), braced her against the wall, positioned himself at her opening and began to thrust.  It didn't take him long, but it was astounding to her just how good it felt—maybe in part because she was completely at his mercy, with only his arms and his body and the cold tile of the shower wall keeping her aloft.  And his cock.  His wonderful hard cock inside her, lifting her up all on its own (or so it seemed).  When they finally emerged, Kerri gave them a smirk, and Patrick and Amanda looked at each other and realized they might not have been quite as subtle as they'd intended.

The rest of the day was much the same.  The tour guide was wonderful, a mountain of Polynesian flesh with a pleasant face and a lot of funny jokes about the island, the flora and fauna, its architecture, its history and (of course) the tourists themselves.  But the bus was air-conditioned and rumbled around at what felt like three miles an hour, and there was only so much attention-keeping one tour guide could do.  She and Patrick spent most of the trip canoodling: kissing, touching, whispering, giggling, and occasionally even letting hands wander where hands shouldn't wander in public.  She felt like a high-schooler—or, at least, what she imagined a high-schooler would feel like, since during her actual high-school years she had been a model of propriety.  Was she still drunk?  It felt a little like it.  There were things hovering on the periphery of her consciousness, a knowledge that she should pay attention and show some modesty...  But these things seemed unimportant, easily dismissed, when set against to the fact of her lover, and his body, and his presence beside her.  She was with Patrick.  Nothing else really mattered to her right now.

As the tour bus approached their hotel, their hands got friskier, to the point that (probably) anyone who looked would have noticed what they were doing.  By this time Amanda was melting with pent-up lust; she practically dragged Patrick back to their suite.  Or maybe he dragged her.  Once they got to their bedroom, the door closed behind them, he yanked down his pants, pulled her panties aside (she had worn the really cute skirt he liked), bent her over the bed and simply plunged in from behind.  He thrust with abandon, their skin making a wet slapping noise with each impact.  Her face was digging into the bedspread, her hands knotting the fabric; her breasts swung with each thrust; he rammed into her, the angle different, stroking into new places inside her, making her muscles quiver with pleasure.  She felt unleashed, like an animal in heat; her bottom was upturned into the air, and she realized he might be able to see her anus.  The thought only turned her on, and suddenly she was exploding on his cock, her body squeezing down on him as he groaned too, and stiffened, though he didn't stop moving, and spent himself inside her, seeding her with his cum.

When they emerged, their hearts still racing, Kerri and Winston were reclining at ease on the couch.  "Had your fun then, I hope?" said Kerri with a smirk.  "Because I want dinner, personally."

"Sorry," said Amanda, feeling sheepish, "it's just..."

"You're enjoying yourselves," said Winston, "and each other.  Nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't really realize it was going to be this good," Amanda said.

"Do you climax?" Kerri asked.

"Sometimes," said Amanda.  "But I don't mind it if I don't.  It feels good anyway."

"Wait, hold on," said Kerri.  "Are we talking about, during sex here?  I mean, actual intercourse?"

"...Yes..." said Amanda, confused.  "Why?"

"You can climax from sex?" Kerri exclaimed.

"...Is that unusual?" said Amanda.

"Just a little," said Winston.  "What's the statistic?—only one woman in four can achieve it consistently.  Or was it five?"

"Wow, I, I didn't know I was so talented," said Amanda, giggling a little.

"Well, that explains why she's going so crazy," Winston said.

"Oh, give her a break," said Kerri.  "She's just discovering it all for the first time.  It's pretty intoxicating."

Amanda had to agree.  Throughout dinner she tried to pay attention to Kerri and Winston; she felt bad for having ignored them, and for being so wrapped up in Patrick.  It was harder than she expected.  But she did honestly feel bad.  And besides, there were so many interesting questions to ask.

"Seriously?  Most women don't have orgasms from sex?" she said.

"Seriously," Kerri said.

"Why not?"

"It's because of the way women are designed," said Winston.  "Men have orgasms by stimulation of the penis, right?  Well, on women, the equivalent is the clitoris.  Starting to see any problems here?"

Patrick said, "The clitoris isn't in the vagina."

"How come you know more about my body than I do," Amanda grumped.

"Well, when's the last time you got face-to-face with your down-there?" Patrick said.

"...Fair enough," she said.  Or unfair enough, as the case may be.

"And on top of that, it takes the average woman four times longer to have an orgasm than it does the average man," Kerri said.

"Seriously?  Four times?"

"How'd they come up with that figure?" Patrick asked.

Winston shrugged.  "Probably just by comparing masturbation times, the assumption being that the person who's best at getting you to climax is yourself."

"Which is not something all women do anyway," said Amanda.  That much she knew.

"Hmm," said Kerri.  "So it might be biased because the only women who participate in the study are familiar with their own sexualities to begin with.  The actual average, the one that includes women who are still repressed by society, might be quite a bit longer."

"Well, hold on," Winston said.  "Isn't it the same bias with men?  Only sexually liberated men participate in these studies too."

Amanda knew the answer to this one too.  "Yeah, but there's a lot more men who are sexually liberated than women.  Kerri and I talked about this.  We—"  She indicated Kerri with a tilt of her head.  "—are discouraged from exploring our bodies, even though we're the ones who need it most.  Whereas you guys..."

"If we aren't wanking off every night," Winston said, "they think something's wrong with us."

"Whereas there's something wrong with us if we're wanking off at all," Kerri said.

"Weird," Patrick said.

"I think it's a real mess," Amanda said.  "I mean, how backwards is that?  Kerri's considered weird for having a healthy interest in her own body.  And not just any part of her body—the part of her that's most important, because it lets her have children.  She's interested, and that's considered weird.  And then I...  Well, I went with the pressure.  I did what was expected out of me, and kept my hands out of my pants.  And what do I get?  A lot of frustration because, when the time comes to 'switch on,' I can't, and then I feel like a failure because I can't please my husband in bed.  Whereas Kerri is made to feel like a failure because she can.  Who came up with this nonsense!"

"Idiots," said Winston.

"The patriarchal domination of culture," Kerri proclaimed.

"Necessity," Patrick said.

They all looked at him.

"Okay, look, guys," he said.  "When I first got in the armed forces, I thought there was a lot of stupid shit going around—all these customs and traditions and practices that you obeyed just because you always had.  Obviously, I didn't say anything, or I'd get my sergeant's boot shoved up my ass, but I thought it was all pretty stupid.  But as time passed and I got further into my training—and especially once I got to active duty—I started to understand that all these things they had told us to do were actually to our benefit.  Why do you wanna do it that way?  Because we tried it the other way, and we know this way works best because the guys who tried it the other way, died because of it.  And so, as more and more things were handed to me that I was supposed to take on faith, I got into the habit of assuming that there was a good reason for doing it that way, which I might not know right now but would find out about later.  And heck, sometimes I could even get a sergeant to explain it.

"I think that's true of all the rest of life too.  I think we try things, and they work, and if they don't work they get phased out.  And that means that all the customs and taboos and laws we have in our culture—everything—is there for a reason."

"What, even discouraging women from exploring their sexuality?"

"Yes, even encouraging women to be sex-negative," Patrick said.

Kerri frowned, but Winston laughed: "Oh, I get it: the opposite of sex-positive."

"What possible benefit could it have?" said Kerri.

"Well, under what circumstances is it a good thing for a woman to abstain?" Patrick asked.

Amanda said, "When you don't want her to get pregnant."

Patrick nodded, but Kerri said, "No, abstinence isn't the answer in that case.  Contraception is.  Put her on the pill.  Or Depo-Provera, like you and I got last month."

"Ah, but, there's the thing," Patrick said.  "Are those available?"

"Well, duh," said Kerri, "there's a drug store on this island somewhere."
          "No," Patrick said, "not now.  Were they available back in the day, when people were first deciding whether to encourage women to be sex-negative."

Kerri blinked a few times, clearly adjusting her thought patterns.

"Imagine we're back in the Stone Age," Patrick said, "when you lived in like groups of 50 because there just weren't that many people to begin with.  You've got two tribes here.  Tribe Alpha embraces eternal sexual freedom and encourages its members to experiment sexually with themselves and each other.  The other tribe, Tribe Bravo, embraces the sex-negative lifestyle we all know and love.  What happens in ten years?"

"Well, Alpha Tribe is going to have a lot more children," Amanda said.

"No birth control, just teenagers doing whatever the heck they want..."  Winston nodded.  "Yeah, a lot more children.  And maybe lower health standards too, if people are doing ass-to-mouth."

"Doing what?!" said Amanda.  Was that what it sounded like?

"Aaaand let's move on!" Kerri said.  "But Patrick, what's wrong with having lots of children?  That's what the human race has been doing, isn't it?—expanding the population."

"Yes, it's good to have children," said Patrick.  "But is it good to have too many children?  And, even worse than that, children whom you aren't ready to raise, because you're a single unwed mother?  With an infection, because you did ass-to-mouth, and maybe an STD too?  And you're not the only one, because all your peers are also caught up in this nonsense.  Alpha Tribe has—how many teenage girls?  Let's say ten.  If just half of them get pregnant...  Well, that's gonna be a huge drain on the tribe's resources.  Remember, these are unwed mothers too, so all the normal economic factors that go into making a family aren't in play here.  These societies would have had to be communisms.  And we know from our own lifetimes that a communism can only provide for so many slackers before it collapses.  And an unwed teenage mother, who's in ill health to begin with?  Definitely a slacker, as far as a communism is concerned.

"So a larger population, yes: but a weaker one because of undernourishment and disease.  And that's just this one generation.  Imagine if this were to happen over the course of multiple generations."

"I am starting to see your point," Kerri said.

"I've got a counter-argument," Winston said.  "Patrick, what you're saying is true—no one can doubt that.  But what you're describing can easily be countered by discouraging fornication.  There's no need to discourage sex as a whole if the only thing that needs to be limited is when it happens."

"You're right," said Patrick.  "And I'll be the first to admit that I'm no historian.  Maybe I'm overthinking this."

"No," said Amanda, "you do need to discourage sex as a whole."

They looked at her.

"What's the one thing we're all taught on this subject?" she asked.  "The one thing everybody hears?  It's this: 'Boys only want one thing.'  We're taught that practically from the womb—I mean, hell, even a Disney movie said it.  The point is, we're taught this because it's true."  Suddenly abashed, she looked at Winston and her husband.  "No offense intended."

"None taken," Patrick said gravely.

Winston chortled.  "Guilty as charged."

"So girls are taught to guard their dignities and their reputations," Amanda said.  "We're taught not to give it up...  Because if you teach boys to wait until marriage, they will nod and smile and then just ignore you once you're out of earshot.  If pre-marital sex is going to be prevented, it has to be the girls who prevent it."

"Okay, I'm with you there," said Kerri.  "But it's a long step from 'Protect your reputation' to 'Sex is bad and you shouldn't enjoy it ever.'  Which is—as I'm sure you can attest, Amanda—what we're taught."

"Yeah, but, where were you taught it?" Winston said.  "The church.  Now, Amanda, don't get riled up about this, but... churches can get overzealous sometimes."

Amanda laughed.  "Christ taught us to embrace the truth.  That includes uncomfortable ones."

"Oh, good," Winston laughed.  "Anyway, the point is, churches can get overzealous.  They take the wisdom of the day—which of course is probably something smart and useful—but then they go crazy with it.  They say, 'This must be the truth, always, because God said it once and therefore it must always be true.'  Forgetting that, of course, wisdom is context-sensitive, and sometimes doesn't mean the same thing in a different place."

Amanda frowned.  "I don't agree with that.  I think there are things that are always wrong, no matter the circumstances."

"Oh, no, I agree," Winston said.  "I'm just saying that not everything is always wrong.  Take the death penalty.  Is murder always wrong?—even of a murderer?  Yes, I think so.  But I also think that, on rare occasions, there will be a person who is so dedicated to causing harm and hurting other people, that the best choice—not the good one, but the best one—is to kill him so that he can't hurt anyone again.  It is a crime to hurt him, but it would be even more of a crime to let him go on hurting others."

"You could even argue that, because you know he has no intention of living a peaceful and non-violent life, it's a virtue to kill him early," Kerri said.  "If your objective is to provide the maximum amount of good to the maximum amount of people, then surely the life of this one man—a man who is contributing nothing and in fact subtracting from the community because he kills people at whim—is worth the lives of the uncounted others whom he would hurt if he were allowed to live.  No one believes that murdering Hitler would be immoral."

"Though we do have the 20/20 of hindsight," Patrick said.  "Remember, he was Time Magazine's Man of the Year.  If someone had managed to stop him before he got started—before we actually knew what he was capable of—how would history look upon that murderer?"

"I don't know, but fortunately that's not what we're talking about," Winston said, grinning.  "The point is that, once upon a time, it benefited society to socialize women to be sex-negative.  That time may or may not be over—but, because churches got involved, that attitude will never die now.  It's a Holy Law, you see, and that means they have to cling to it whether it's necessary or not."

"I don't think we're that crazy," Amanda said.  "The church's attitudes have evolved.  We're slowly coming round on the gay-marriage thing."

"Yeah," Winston said.  "But slowly.  Because the church is filled with people who would rather believe a book than what they see with their own eyes.  So long as churches operate that way..."

"Point taken," Amanda said.

"Good god," Kerri said.  "And this is the environment our kids are going to grow up in?  They're going to have to face all this insanity?"

"Well, that's where parents come in," Patrick said.  "Just as yours did, Kerri, when you grew up: it'll be your job to teach your kids what you think is right."

"Yeah, but, everything they thought was right, I thought was wrong," Kerri grumbled.

"Well, maybe that's what your job as a parent will be," said Amanda, shrugging.  "To present your views and be shot down.  But at least you can present them.  Every child has to start somewhere.  Could you have gotten as far as you have without your parents' views to rebel against?"

"So I should expect them to disagree with everything I say?" Kerri exclaimed.  "Boy, I can't wait to tell that to Mom.  She used to complain I was a brat!"

"I mean, I hope to raise our children as Christians," Amanda said.  "And I hope they'll become Christians themselves later.  But that's just it: faith in Christ isn't something I can impress on them.  I have to let them come to it themselves; if they don't, it isn't genuine.  And if they don't, I just have to accept that God is calling them in a different direction.  And I'm certainly not going to beat them over the head with the sexual mores I was taught.  If I have a daughter, and one day I find her masturbating, I'm going to encourage her."

Kerri snickered.  "Seriously?  You're going to encourage her?"

Amanda felt heat on her face.  "Shut up, you know what I mean."  Even as she said it, though, she wondered if it would prove true.  I like to think of myself as a liberated woman, but the past four days have showed me something about that.  What will actually happen if I come across a daughter of mine, exploring herself?  Will I be supportive, or will my repressive training kick in?

Kerri was still chortling.  "No, I don't know what you mean, why don't you tell me?"  Then she relented.  "No, seriously, I do know what you mean.  It just sounded way, way wrong."

"Well, I'm guessing your kids will have some natural curiosity to begin with," Winston said.

"Why, what makes you say that?"

"Well, if it goes anything like the past couple of days," Winston said, "they'll hear mommy and daddy making weird noises from the bedroom.  Much the way we have."  He grinned.

Amanda felt her cheeks heat again.  "We're not...  That loud."

"Oh, you're loud enough," Winston said, grinning.

"And it's not so much that you're loud as that it's freaking obvious what you're doing," Kerri said.  She put on a mock face: "Uh!  Uh!  Uh!  Oh yeah!"  She grinned.

"Well, we'll try to be more discreet next time," said Patrick.

"Oh, don't worry about us," Kerri said.  "We're just glad you've worked it out enough that there can be a next time."

Amanda smiled at her husband.  He smiled back.

"And there they go," said Kerri, tossing up her hands.  "Excuse me, waiter?  I haven't gotten my cooties shot renewed recently."

Patrick leaned close to her to whisper in her ear.  "I'm looking forward to our next time."

She answered: "I love being so close to you.  It feels like we really are one flesh."

"It's pretty good for me, too."

She stroked his cheek.  "That's what I was looking forward to more than anything else.  The chance to really be... with you.  To be a part of you."

He moved in for a long, lingering kiss.  She tasted many things in that kiss—what he had had for dinner, yes (shrimp scampi), but also his love for her, and hers for him; and the lust that had been simmering under them all night, now returned to the forefront of his awareness—and hers.

They stayed with their eyes locked for a little while after the kiss.  So the look of despair on Kerri's face passed them right by.

Back at the room, Amanda felt a little ashamed.  "Maybe we should...  Hold off a little.  I just...  We keep getting lost in our own little world, and ignoring them.  And making enough noise to disturb them!..."

"I think they were teasing us about that," he said.  "But, if you want to back off a little, that's okay with me."  He gave a little chuckle.  "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit worn out!"

"Oh no," she said, "are you hurt?  Did I injure you?"

"No, no, not that at all," he said, "it's just that...  Well, I think the most I ever came in one day, before now, was three times.  And that was back in high school, more than ten years ago.  Today...  What has it been now, four times?  And I'm getting on to thirty."

"You've still got a couple of years," she said, but it was a good lesson.  She had never thought about it before—what reason would she have?—but of course he would need time to recharge.  Semen didn't grow on trees, after all.  "In that case, let's just have a quiet night with no... frisky business."

It was a good and sensible resolution; and, like many resolutions, it was harder to keep than it was to make.  She felt sweaty and overdressed in her pajamas; the fact that she had seen Patrick get into bed with no clothes on whatsoever didn't help things.  Patrick, too, found it difficult to focus.  He needed the rest, that much was certain...  But his wife's luscious body was right there, and lying there spooned up to her without getting to touch her in any other way just seemed so... lame.  He kept his hand on her belly for as long as possible, but eventually he couldn't stand it and moved it up to her breast.  When he did, she gave a gasp, and she realized just how much she had wanted it.  It felt like the answer to a prayer.

"Maybe..." she whispered.  "Maybe if we're quiet."

"I know just the thing," he whispered.

His hands did their marvelous work, and soon she was wet and wanting.  She was glad to struggle free of the confining clothing, to bare herself to the world and his hands.  Now she could feel: his muscles at her back, his weapon between her legs, the skin of his arms all down her front.  She expected him to turn her onto her back and move between her legs, but his solution surprised her: instead of any negotiations, he simply lifted her top leg and then poised himself at her entrance.  And, just like that, they were joined.

Most of their sex today had been physical, athletic, almost fierce; this was completely different.  This was intimate, gentle, almost spiritual.  She bent her hips back to give him more access, but soon changed her mind; she would rather feel him all down her back, mold every inch of her flesh to him.  He couldn't achieve as much depth from here as he normally could, but she didn't care about that either.  It lasted much longer than before—was he depleted, or was it because of the slower nature of their movements?—but she didn't care.  And when he reached for her clit—perhaps mindful of what they'd learned at dinner—she gently led his hand away.  "No," she said, "I just want to feel this."

They rocked back and forth in the timeless language of love.  She felt the stern muscles in his arm across her belly, the warm roughness of his palm cupping her breast.  She heard the almost-silent moans of his pleasure, felt his breath ruffling through her hair.  She felt his body all down her back, from the sensitive spot at the top of her rump all the way up to her neck, at the tender place that hair normally hid; she felt his kisses there, on her ear, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder.  His cock was inside her, caressing her, stroking her, opening her up; she felt the push and pull, felt herself responding to his body and his to hers; felt the unmistakable sensation of caressing him with her body, and thought that she would melt with love.  She whispered to him, telling him how good he felt, how much she loved what he was doing.  And when his climax finally came, almost soundless in the night, she pushed her hips back to engulf him as much as possible, to bring him and his seed as deep inside her as she could.

He fell out of her as they slept, but that didn't stop them from doing it again in the morning.  And this time if Kerri knocked on their door, they didn't hear it.

It was the most decadent day of her life.  She and Patrick barely left the bed, except to use the bathroom and to receive room service.  She put on a robe, once, to accept their lunch; dinner they must have fucked through, because to her knowledge it never arrived.  All the rest of the time they were in bed, either napping between sessions, making love or sometimes—there was just no other word for it—fucking.  She climaxed more times than she could count, and he gave her his seed again and again.  Sometimes she felt as though her muscles were turning to jelly; at others she was fired up, almost angry in her need for his marvelous organ.  They did it in every way imaginable: slowly, quickly; passionately, quietly; missionary, cowgirl, doggie-style, spooning, sixty-nine.  She couldn't decide which one was her favorite: she loved to be on top and in control; she loved to be under him, subservient; she loved to be taken like an animal; she loved gentle intimacy; she loved to have his mouth on her, and to take him into her mouth and make him squirt.  She loved the feeling of warm contentment after an orgasm; the quivering sense of anticipation and need right before he plunged, the delirious sense of completion when he filled her; the slick heat of his cum in her pussy.  She loved it all.  She couldn't believe that she was here, doing this, being so wanton; another part of her seemed to feel that she had been meant to be this way all along.

Would they have done the same thing the next day?  She would never know, because before they could start, Kerri and Winston knocked on their door.  "Okay, sleepy-heads, rise and shine!  You had all day yesterday to laze around in bed; today we're getting you out!"

By now Amanda was far past the point of shame; but she did still feel a pang of guilt.  She kept abandoning her sister—a lazy, selfish thing to do.  Was she really so easily distracted?

Evidently, Kerri had similar irritations, because her face was wan.  That in itself was unusual; Kerri rarely went anywhere without her bright smile.  Patrick's comments on the situation didn't reassure her much.  "Look, umm...  Winston says it would be great if you would spend some time with Kerri.  Evidently she's in a...  Well, I don't even know.  But she needs her friend right now."

"Then her friend she shall have," Amanda said.

Of course, this too was easier said than done.  Throughout the last few days, Kerri had taken charge of their outings and activities, and frankly this was all to the good: now that she stopped to think about it, Amanda wasn't at all sure what would interest Kerri.  And Kerri herself was indifferent; to each suggestion she gave a tired shrug.  Amanda realized that Kerri had faced much this same behavior from Amanda herself, not too long ago; the thought only strengthened her resolve.  She was going to be a good friend to Kerri if it killed her.

Finally she got Kerri suited up for a day on the beach, something they definitely hadn't done yet.  Once outdoors, with sun and sand and laughter and the roar of waves like the breathing of some great mother earth, Kerri seemed to perk up a little.  Still, her conversations had a distracted air that made Amanda nervous.  Kerri was cheerful and outgoing, but she had never had trouble focusing before.  Still, Amanda battled down feelings of inadequacy and led them both down the beach until they had reached an area of relative seclusion, far enough away from the resort that few people ventured this far.  They spread their towels and sat down.

"So, what's going on?" Amanda said.

Kerri gave her a look.  "That's it?  That's your whole small-talk effort?  You're just gonna...  Plunge in, and that's that?"

Amanda returned the look.  "Kerri, I'm not good at this stuff.  You know that.  But you're my friend.  I care.  And if I can help you, I want to."

"Yeah, you're my friend," Kerri said.  "When you're not fucking draped all over your husband."

"And you don't do that on occasion either?" Amanda said.  "Kerri, I love you like a sister, but I've known—for a while now—that I'm not your best friend anymore.  And you know what?  That's as it should be.  When you met Winston...  I mean, your whole life changed.  Suddenly there was this corner of it—a big corner—that I wasn't invited into.  And, as I said, that's to the good.  You should have things that you share only with Winston.  He's your husband, for heaven's sake.  You're going to make a life together that has nothing to do with me.  And I'm going to do the same with Patrick.  Don't tell me you resent me for that, because you and I both know that isn't true."

"Isn't it?" said Kerri.  "Maybe I don't like being shut out of your life like that.  Maybe I wanna be part of it."

Amanda gave her a skeptical look.  "Of the sex?  Of the child-bearing?  Of arguing over who does the dishes, or what the right trash schedule is, or whether it's okay to leave the toilet seat up?  You don't need to come to us for that, you'll get it on your own."

Kerri glared at her in defiance for a moment; but then the facade collapsed, and she sighed and seemed to deflate back down to the towel.  "Okay, fine, whatever.  So I'm unreasonably annoyed at you.  So sue me."

"I will do no such," Amanda said.  "We're sisters.  It doesn't have to make sense.  Now, do you want to tell me what's going on?"

Kerri sighed.  "Well, the fact that you're so wrapped up with Patrick is not helping.  I've been wanting to talk to you since Wednesday.  I was hoping that, when we went on that bus tour of the island...  But no, you were just making out the whole time."

"I know," said Amanda.  "I'm sorry about that.  I just...  It's a powerful thing that was unlocked.  I'm sure you of all people would understand."

"Yeah, I understand," Kerri grumped, "it's just...  Inconvenient.  I mean, how'm I supposed to talk to you if you're just face-first into him all the time."

"Do what you did today," Amanda said.  "Ask.  I'm never too busy to talk to you."

For the first time all day, Kerri gave a smile.  "Even if you're with Patrick and he's balls-deep in you?"  It was more like a smirk, but still, it was there.

"Even then," Amanda promised with exaggerated solemnity.  "...Of course, I might ask you to wait until we're done," she added, and got another little smile from Kerri.  "But the moment I got my clothes on, you'd be first on my list."

"Well, you've got your clothes on now," Kerri said.

"Yes, I have," said Amanda, "and here I am, asking what's wrong.  But you're waffling now."

Kerri gave her a glare.  "It's not easy for me.  This stuff is..."

"Take all the time you need," said Amanda.  "I mean, I'm here all day."

Kerri gave her a twisted smile and then looked out over the sea.

"It started...  I think it started on Tuesday night," she said, not looking at Amanda.  "When you...  When you asked us to stay on hand in case you needed help."

"...Okay..." said Amanda, who could not imagine how this could change anything.  "And...  Something...  Well, I mean, I don't even know.  What was going on?"

Kerri closed her eyes, took several breaths with a grimace on her face.  "I just...  Seeing you.  Seeing you made a difference."

Amanda squinted at her.  "What, did we turn ugly when we were doing it?"

It was meant as a joke, to lighten the mood, but Kerri said, "No, actually, quite the opposite.  It was...  You were beautiful.  I saw you and Patrick and I thought that it was...  I mean, there was something..."  Finally she turned to look at Amanda.  "It was like a sacrament."

Amanda said nothing.

"I mean, you guys were doing it, yeah, and there's all the, what, the squick involved in sex—all the wet and messy stuff, and the funny faces, and everything.  But...  It was like you guys transcended that.  You were there, and you loved him, and he loved you, and that was so much more important than all the physical clumsiness of sex.  You really...  You really love each other.  When you guys do it, it's about your partner, it's about making them happy.  And I just..."  She croaked to a halt, and Amanda was startled to see tears in her eyes.  "I just looked at Winston, and I'm like...  'Where is that?  Where do we have that?  Why don't we—' "

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there.  Kerri, you...  You married Winston.  Are you trying to tell me that you, you don't...  That you don't love—"

"Of course I'm not trying to say that, how stupid do you think I am," Kerri snapped.  "I love him more than life itself.  No, I wouldn't marry him unless I felt that way.  But it just..."  She sighed.  "We never do what you guys do.  We never...  I mean, I love sex.  I love to climax, and I love to make him climax, and...  When we first started doing it, it was so good, there was like...  Chemistry up the wazoo, and I...  Yeah, I was like how you are.  Couldn't get enough of it.  But with us it's so...  Physical.  We're chasing orgasm.  That's all we do.  And I looked at what you and Patrick were doing, and how selfless you were, and how, how radiant you were in that love, and I was like...  'Where is that?  Where is that in our lives?' "

"I see," said Amanda.

"And the thing is, you're right," Kerri gasped, beginning to cry in earnest now.  "With Winston it's always been this way, and I don't know how to change it or even if I can, and now it's like...  'Okay, I just married this guy, and what if I'm stuck with this kind of sex for...' "  And that was the end of speech, as Amanda opened her arms to her and Kerri cried on her shoulder.  Amanda wasn't sure what to say, so she said nothing, trying to indicate with her arms and her patience and her love that she was there, and not going away.

Finally Kerri had cried herself out; she pulled back and wiped her eyes.  "Oww.  That stings.  Never cry when you're wearing sunscreen."  She laughed a little and blinked a few times.  "Okay."

"Okay," said Amanda.

"So I just...  I dunno.  I just... became aware that there was this whole other part of life that I didn't have, and, I want it, and...  I don't know what to do."

"And it clearly matters to you, if it's been disturbing your equilibrium like this," said Amanda.  "What about the rest of your relationship with Winston?  Are you happy with that?"

Kerri thought for a moment.  Then she nodded.  "It's not like...  I mean, we just...  We talk.  We learn about each other.  We spend time together.  You know us, we've been living together for a year, and we just...  It's gotten comfortable, you know?  We know each other really well.  We don't...  I mean, I don't even know how to describe it.  But it feels like we've been together for way longer."

"Do you regret marrying him?"

"Regret marrying him?" Kerri exclaimed.  "Of course not!  He..."  Her voice turned pensive.  "I can't imagine living without him.  He completes me.  I know you...  I know you Christians don't believe in destiny, or whatever, but I'm convinced that...  That he and I were meant for each other."

"We may not believe in destiny, but we believe that God has a plan," Amanda said, smiling.  "And I've seen you and Winston together.  If that wasn't in God's plan, then clearly He adjusted it when you two got together.  I just feel bad for whoever you were supposed to get together with, because he got the short end of the stick."

Again, it was meant to elicit laughter, but Kerri took it in an unexpected way.  "God, can you imagine?  If I had gotten together with someone who wasn't Winston?  I can't.  I mean, I just...  I look at that, and all I see is a featureless void."

"Seriously?  You can't...  I mean, you can't imagine a single thing?"

"No, not at all," said Kerri.  "I mean, it...  He wouldn't be Winston, right?  But I can't imagine anything else about him.  Like, how could I love someone who wasn't Winston?  How could I be happy?  Everything about him would irritate me."

Amanda smiled.  "Well, I think you picked the right person then."

A slow, wistful smile touched Kerri's face.  "Yeah.  ...Except for this sex thing."

"Well...  Have you talked to him about it?" said Amanda.

"God no.  I mean, how am I supposed to talk to him about that?  'Hey, honey, now that you're balls-deep in me, can we have a heart-to-heart about how we fuck?' "  She snorted.  "Like that's gonna go over well."

"Well, first off, there's something," Amanda said.  "You guys fuck a lot, right?"

Kerri gave her a look.  "I can't believe you just said that word.  Isn't there a commandment or something saying not to swear?"

"Well, what am I supposed to say?  'Have athletic sex that focuses mostly on physical sensation'?  That's a mouthful.  Why don't I just use the word that already exists for that kind of sex?  It happens to be a bad word, but you know what?  That's just life.  'Sex' is practically a bad word.  So no, I'm not swearing—I'm being precise.  Because you guys do mostly fuck, right?"

Kerri's eye twitched, but she said, "Yeah, that...  That would be accurate.  Why?"

"Because when I think about what Patrick and I do, I think the term 'make love' is a better description.  What we do isn't about...  Well, it is about the pleasure, but that's secondary.  We're enjoying each other's bodies, and sharing our bodies, and being... intimate."

"Really intimate."

"Well, yeah," Amanda said.  "I mean, that was the whole point of waiting until marriage.  It's such an intimate thing, such a private thing...  I mean, I'm glad that I waited until marriage.  I'm glad that Patrick will be the only man I ever share my body with.  That makes it so much more sacred."

Kerri conceded that with a nod of her head.  "Well, unfortunately Winston and I don't have that option.  Neither of us were virgins when we met each other.  But experience has its own advantages."  She gave Amanda a sidelong glance.  "As I'm sure you're aware of by now."

"God, you're telling me," Amanda said.  "You'd think they'd teach us these things or something."

"What, you'd want to take a class in it?" Kerri said.  "5th-grade Sex Ed?"

"Heck no!" Amanda said.  "I...  You know, that's a good point.  How would they teach us.  But they could at least stop discouraging us from it."

"As we discussed on Wednesday night."

"Yeah.  But, that isn't really what we're talking about right now.  The point is..."  She caught herself with a laugh.  "God, what a reversal.  How come you're asking me for advice?  Hasn't it been the other way around for the last entire week?"

"So it's your turn to be a friend," said Kerri, sticking her tongue out, "instead of leeching off my wisdom for a week.  Ha, how does that feel?"

"...I'll answer after you try what I suggest!" Amanda said, and Kerri laughed for the first time all day.

"All right then, O Wise Giver Of Advice," said Kerri.  "What do you suggest?"

"I think you should sit him down and talk about it," Amanda said.  "Don't be like...  I mean, this is common sense, but it bears repeating: don't be all like, 'Oh, you're such a bad lover, you don't satisfy me, accuse accuse accuse.'  Just...  Tell him you want to try something new."

Kerri grimaced.  "I dunno if that'll work."  At Amanda's questioning look: "Just...  I mean, we've been sleeping together for a long time.  From the beginning, it's been this way.  Fucking, instead of making love.  I don't know if we've ever made love.  And so, I don't know if he'll..."

"Maybe you'll have to teach him," Amanda said.  "Which sounds daunting, probably, but then you've been teaching me all this time and it's worked out so far."

"But it's not just sex," Kerri said, "it's...  I mean, you guys do PDA all the time."  At Amanda's questioning look: "Public Displays of Affection.  You guys aren't ashamed to show your love where other people can see it."

"Well, I should hope not," Amanda said.  "What's to be ashamed about?"

Kerri gave a grimace.  "The point is, he's not...  Winston isn't...  Demonstrative like that.  I mean, I know that he loves me—I'm not even sure how I know, but I do.  But...  I just..."

"You want him to show it."

"No, that's the thing, he does show it.  But...  I want him to show it...  A different way."

"By being more... gentle?"

"Yeah.  Maybe a little more cuddly, and not so much...  I mean, sex is selfish sometimes.  We don't even really pay attention to each other sometimes—we're just both in the room, and his thing's in my you-know, so we're sharing, but it's my job to get myself off.  And his to get himself off.  And...  Well, that works, because I'm better at getting myself off than he is—which is just natural.  That's how sex works.  You'll always know yourself better than Patrick will know you, and vice versa.  So I get to climax really, really hard, and there's something to be said about that.  But sometimes I want..."

"You want him to make you climax."

"Yeah.  I want it to be...  More communal.  I want it to be something we share."

"And you don't just want that in sex."

"Yeah."

"You want him to be more... affectionate?"

"Well, no, that's the thing, he is affectionate.  He...  He says really nice things to me, he is so kind with his words.  And he surprises me with...  I mean, not like jewelry or anything, nothing flamboyant or expensive.  But he sees little things, like a $5 stuffed animal, and he says, 'It made me think of you,' and it's really cute."

Amanda tilted her head.  "And...  That doesn't work for you?"

"Honestly?  No, it doesn't," Kerri said.  "God, that makes me feel so ungrateful.  But just...  I mean, I appreciate the thought, you know?  But that's not what I want."

"What do you want?"

"I want him to be more cuddly.  I just...  We never touch, it seems like, unless we're fucking.  He rarely hugs me, he rarely kisses me, he just...  I dunno, I guess his brain doesn't work that way.  And I wish he...  I wish he'd spend time with me."

"Well, that's not a good sign, considering you've been living together for a year."

"Yeah, I know, and, I can barely understand it.  But it's like he...  I mean, we talk, and I tell him how my day was and he tells me how his was.  But he doesn't turn to me for...  Like, if something's going wrong.  He'll mention it, but he doesn't really want to talk about it."

"Does he talk about it with anyone else?"

"No, and that's the thing.  Winston just...  He just has to internalize it and mull over it and come up with the appropriate response.  That's just how he is, and there isn't room for me in that process.  Which I understand.  But the thing is, he thinks I'm that way too.  When I want to talk about something..."

"Like this, for instance."

"Yeah.  He figures I'm just updating him on the state of the world, and that later I'll tell him what I came up with."

"Hmm, so this conversation could be..."

"Yeah, it's not just that I need to tell him the topic, it's that I have to get him to listen."

"Hmm.  I dunno how you can do that.  But I'm not the person who would know anyway.  You are.  You know the roads into his heart better than I do."

"So I should feed him," Kerri snorted.

"If that works," Amanda said.  "All's fair in love and war."

"Wish I could decide which one this was," Kerri grumbled.

"So, what's the deal with you and Kerri?" Patrick asked.

Winston, to his credit, did not try to dodge the question.  Perhaps he realized that, under the circumstances, their intentions were obvious—after all, when did he and Kerri ever divide & conquer but that they wanted one-on-one consultation.  "I don't know," he said finally.  "I mean, if I did, I wouldn't be here."

"Fair enough," said Patrick.  He had noticed through the years that Winston was honest enough, but sometimes kind of oblivious to what was going on.  Prying the truth out of him might be difficult: he might not actually know it.

"I just...  I dunno.  We've gotten to the point where we just know so much about each other," Winston said.  He lifted his glasses to scrub at his face.  "Sometimes we rarely need to talk.  We just...  We just know what the other person is trying to say."

"Yeeeaaah, we don't have that," Patrick said, laughing.  "There's still a lot of learning Amanda and I have to do."

"Yeah, about that," Winston said.  "Doesn't that make you worried?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the...  Well."  Winston scrubbed his hand through his hair.  Patrick's military background made him think of Winston as scruffy—hair too long, beard in complete disarray—but Winston made it work, and what did Patrick's opinions matter next to that?  "You and Amanda didn't live together before you got married."

"Yeah."

"And you didn't sleep together either."

"Yeah."

"And...  You didn't have any worries about that?" Winston said.  "I mean, marriage is a big plunge, and with the divorce rate being what it is...  It's like, why would you buy a car without a test-drive?  Why would you go into something that big without being sure—absolutely sure—that the two of you are compatible?  I mean, didn't you have any doubts?"

Patrick thought about it.  "Umm...  No, not particularly."

Winston simply looked at him.

"Yeah, I know, there's one born every minute," Patrick said.  "But it wasn't like that.  First off, the...  I mean, yeah, the compatibility issues are important.  But it's not like you can't find those out anyway."

Winston tilted his head in question.

"Well...  Take the sex stuff," Patrick said.  He managed to say it with a straight face.  He had long since gotten used to the idea that Winston and Kerri were very open about their lives, even their sex lives; but he was only beginning to approach their level of nonchalance.  "Yeah, Amanda and I waited until marriage.  But that doesn't mean we didn't do other stuff."

"Kissing?  Making out?  Heavy petting?"

"No, no heavy petting, but a lot of the other stuff.  I mean, it's not like she was completely asexual or anything."  He gave a laugh.  "Quite the opposite, in fact.  But still, certain things were out of bounds, so we had to make the best of what was in bounds.  Just...  Back rubs, and massages, and playing with her hair, and her ears, and her hands and feet...  I learned a lot.  I mean, I know all of her erogenous zones like the back of my hand now."  He gave a self-conscious laugh.  "Well.  Except her actual ones, but, I'm sure I'll catch up."

"That's a good point," Winston said.  "I mean, Kerri and I...  Well, we went straight to the sex and skipped all the rest of it.  If I had to do any of those things, I wouldn't know how to start."

"Might be something worth exploring.  But even more than that...  Well, what we did before marriage wasn't sex.  But it was our equivalent of sex—you know?  It was our way of sharing our bodies with each other.  And that means I learned a lot about what kind of lover she'd be.  I knew she'd be sensitive, and I knew she cared about pleasing me, and I knew she'd be willing to try new things—and really, that's all that matters, isn't it?  The exact, what, the exact physical mechanics of what you're doing...  They aren't important.  They work themselves out, with some patience and experimentation.  The question is whether your lover has that patience, and that willingness to experiment, because it's those qualities that make a good lover.  And I found out that Amanda had them.  And so I wasn't worried at all."

"Okay, that takes care of the sex stuff," Winston said.  "But what about actually living together?  I mean, that's not easy either.  All the tiny little details about leaving your underwear lying around, or the toilet seat up, or even whether the toilet paper goes over or under."

"Well, that's easy," Patrick said.  "Over."

Winston arched an eyebrow.

"Oh," said Patrick. "You're one of them."

"So, how did you deal with that stuff?" Winston said.

"Hmm," said Patrick.  "Hopefully, the same way as with the sex stuff: by being reasonable, and willing to compromise.  And willing to change my habits.  And hoping she's the same."

"That's a lot of 'if' to pin a marriage on," Winston said.  "The devil is in the details."

"Yeah, but, we did some test driving on that too," Patrick said.  "I mean, we sat down and we talked about it—hell, we sat down with all four of our parents and talked about it.  And Amanda's mom—she had a good idea.  One afternoon Amanda just showed up at my place and we went through it, and she ticked off everything that she thought she might have a problem with when we lived together."  He gave Winston a smile.  "The toilet paper was not one of them."

"And you did the same to her."

"Yeah.  Took about a month before she forgot, but...  'cuz that was the whole point, as Mrs. Daniels explained it.  Pop in at an unexpected time so that your partner hasn't had a chance to clean up.  See how they actually live.  Underwear lying on the desk and all."

"Boxers?"

"Bra."

Winston guffawed.

They had reached the next tee-off point by then, so conversation was temporarily suspended while Winston, and then Patrick, squared off and gave it a whack.  The two of them had lobbied strongly for this particular island, precisely because it had several highly-rated golf courses.  This one was shorter but convoluted in design, which meant Winston would probably come home with the better score: Patrick's drives had a lot more muscle, but Winston had a knack for dropping the ball exactly where he wanted it.  Patrick had to cross his fingers and hope he'd hit within fifty yards of where he'd aimed.  He felt like artillery.

"So, yeah," Patrick said as they resumed their stroll.  "I mean, ask me in a month after we've actually lived together, because you're right, we don't know for certain.  Not for certain.  But we've done some research together and, I think, we know about as much as it's possible to know about living together, and what it would be like, without having actually done it.  And it doesn't hurt that we're both moving into a new apartment together—we already agreed that it's a good chance to start new habits or end old ones."

Winston shrugged.  "Well, it's not the same as a test drive, but it's more than I would've expected.  —And I'm not saying it's not going to work.  I just... prefer, personally, the assurance of certainty."

"I'm with you on that," Patrick said.  "And I'm not saying it's going to work.  But we've worked it out—and, even more than that, both of us were very clear that we would need to be willing to compromise.  We made a list of the things we weren't willing to compromise on, and we were careful to make sure that neither of us had the same items on the list.  —Or, rather, that we didn't have opposing views of the same item on the list.  And in the meanwhile...  Well, being able to compromise is important.  I mean, really important.  So, long story short, we feel like we've stacked the deck in our favor about as much as is possible."

"Fair enough," Winston said.

They walked in silence for a while, long enough for Winston to take his next stroke.  As they chased his putt, Patrick said finally, "So, what does this have to do with you and Kerri?"

Winston sighed and resettled his golf bag on his shoulder.  "I dunno, man.  I honestly don't know.  It's funny that we know each other so well, because at the moment...  But then, I think that may kind of be a part of it."

"Oh?"

"Well, you guys...  You waited until Saturday for a lot of stuff.  Whereas Kerri and I...  I mean, to a certain extent, we've already been married, and Saturday was just a formality.  But that means that...  You know?  There's nothing new under the sun.  Everything there is to do, we've already done.  Getting married didn't change anything.  And I think she kind of..."

"She wishes it weren't like that."

"Yeah.  I mean, I don't know if you noticed on Tuesday night, when the two of you were..."

"Yeah, I was a tad distracted," said Patrick with a dry smile.

"Yeah.  Well, we were watching you, and I could see that Kerri...  She wanted what you guys have."

Patrick felt a moment of panic.  "What, she wants to sleep with me?"

"Err, no, that's not really what I meant," said Winston with a dry smile, "and I'm pretty sure...  Well, I'll ask if you want—"

"No, no, I don't—  I have no interest in—"  Boy, that could be taken the wrong way.  "I mean, she's a very attractive woman and all that, but I...  I'm a one-gal kind of guy."

Winston guffawed.  "Nice save there."

"I really do mean it, though," Patrick said.  "If Kerri came on to me, I'd turn her down.  She's a nice girl, but my heart's already spoken for."

Winston gave him a smile.  "Good to know."  And then: "'cuz, if she did offer, I'd have to fight you for her, and, I kinda doubt I would win."

Patrick laughed, and the conversation lapsed again until after he had taken his next stroke.  He could get onto the green with his third swing, he judged, but that was when his real problems would begin.  Winston would be in the bag, probably; he'd seen Winston drop his ball straight into the hole from fifty yards out.

"But anyway," said Patrick.  "So she's just been in a funk ever since?"

"Yeah, she has," said Winston.  "And I don't know what to do about it, because I don't know why it happened.  —Well, besides the obvious, which is that she saw something she liked when she looked at you and Amanda, and she wants it.  But I don't know what that is."

"Maybe she wants Amanda," said Patrick.

Winston cocked an eyebrow.

"Maybe she's seducing her right now," Patrick joked.

"Yeah right," said Winston.  "Kerri loves cock too much.  And she says she can't get over the idea of oral sex—she thinks I'm crazy to stick my face down there.  It'd never happen.  And Amanda.  You think she'd go for it?  You know her.  Especially now that she's married to you—she'd die before she was unfaithful."

"Yeah," said Patrick.  "It'd never happen."  Still, it was quite a thought: Amanda and Kerri naked on a bed, their legs intertwined, breasts rubbing together, hands down below, a crescendo of moans scaling in unison—

He looked at Winston, and saw the exact same expression on his face as he realized must be on his own.

Winston sighed.  "Oh well."

"Yeah.  Back to the matter at hand, I guess."  With an effort he banished the vision.  "What do you think Kerri actually wants?  Now that we've exhausted all the really crazy options."

"Unfortunately," said Winston, sniggering, and Patrick tossed him an eye-roll, though he couldn't resist a smile of his own.

"Honestly, though," said Winston, "I think maybe it is the, what, the newness of it.  Or rather the lack thereof."

"...You lost me."

"Well, like I said, when you and Amanda were going at it...  I mean, it was something to see, man.  It was like a voyage of discovery.  The two of you were just...  I mean, it was all new to you both, you know?  And...  We don't get that.  Because we've done it all already.  We've done everything already."

Patrick arced an eyebrow.  "Everything?  I mean, there's a lot of sex out there.  How many positions?  A hundred something?"

"Well...  No, okay, maybe not everything, but the...  I dunno.  The tone of it."  Winston shook his head.  "I'm not explaining this very well at all.  It's just...  We do what we do, yeah?  And we never vary it up."

"Then perhaps some variation is in order," Winston said.

"Yeah, but...  I dunno.  I just...  We worked out how to do it that's satisfactory for both of us, you know?"

"Yeah, but, is she satisfied?"

Winston scrubbed his face with his hand again.  "God, that's the question.  But can we have our cake and eat it too?"

"As in...  What?  You'd have to sacrifice something from the way you have sex now in order to maybe get her the other thing she wants?"

"Yeah, exactly.  See, the way we have it set up is...  Well, you know, we do it.  And I pay especial attention to her and just let her... do what she wants.  And she takes care of herself, you know?  And that way, she comes every time."

"Ahhhh.  Yeah, she might object to losing that."

"Yeah."

"Well, it sounds to me like the thing you ought to do, then," said Patrick, "is talk to her."

Winston chuckled.  "Why does it always seem to come down to that?"

"Well, it's a big part of life.  And a big part of relationships too."

"Can you be there with us?"

Patrick gaped at him.

Winston held his ground.  "Look, man, the...  We stayed around when Amanda asked for help.  I think it might help if you did the same when I talk to Kerri."

"Talk?" said Patrick, teasing.  "Or more than that?"

Winston checked an exasperated sigh.  "If you want us to move to our room before we get hot and heavy, we'll do so, and gladly.  The point is that...  Well, these discussions can get nasty.  Kerri isn't...  She gets really defensive sometimes, you know?  It's hard for her to take criticism without being hurt.  And, I just think things would go more smoothly if you and Amanda are there to, number one, moderate the discussion, and number two, act as control rods.  Kerri won't be as likely to fly off the handle if there are other people nearby, especially people she respects."

"...Control rods?"

"It's a nuclear-fission term," said Winston.  "That's my physics background coming out.  A control rod is an object that's inserted into the reaction chamber of a nuclear reactor to absorb free-flying neutrons and thus slow the rate of fission."

"Coolant."

"On a subatomic-physics scale, yeah."

"...You know, you could've just said 'coolant'."

"They're not the same.  Coolant slows something down.  A control rod intercepts it."

"But aren't you counting on us to slow things down?  Aren't we coolant?"

"But you can't slow something down on a subatomic level, not without taking it down to like three degrees Kelvin...  Ugh, whatever.  I should know better than to try to explain these things to a dumb grunt like you."

Patrick laughed; it was an old joke between them.  "Well, maybe if you goddamn high-and-mighty scientists would stop trying to show off your freaking brains and design something that works..."

"Well, at least I've got brains instead of muscles!" Winston retorted, grinning.

"Oh yeah?  Well, I bet you my muscles against your brains that I can get onto the green with my next swing."

"The green of the next hole?  'cuz you overshoot and have to come all the way back?  Yeah, I'll bet you that!"

Patrick laughed.  "Okay, buddy, you're on.  Best score to the next hole wins.  Loser has to buy lunch."

"You're on, buster," Winston said.

Laughing, they headed off to the next hole.