Why can’t it last? Why can’t we die doing it? But those superlative moments of fulfilment don’t last. Mother was still frantically working herself over my penis as I came down from the heights. She was sobbing and pleading with me, “Stay…oha…stay with me darling…I still need…oh…oh…oh…”
Mother ended with a long drawn out sigh of contentment and calm descended upon us.
We lay silent for sometime. My penis was still in her and for some reason I was reluctant to withdraw from her.
After a while mother said very softly, “Well that’s how I think it happened.”
“W-what?”
“The couple in the picture, that how I think they ended up coming together.”
“Oh.”
“I wonder…I wonder…?”
“What?”
“If she got pregnant.”
“Pregnant!”
“Well of course darling; she didn’t look too old to get pregnant, and if like us they didn’t use anything then….”
“You mean you could…?”
“Yes, of course I could; wouldn’t it be wonderful; a real consummation of our love for each other.”
“I don’t…”
“Be a darling; I’m dying of thirst. Go and make a cup of tea.”
I went to the kitchen to make tea. I had a lot to think about, and hopefully a lot to look forward to.