The sex wasn’t based on anything except an overwhelming need and that’s why it was so intense that weekend: it just had to happen, there was a physical logic to it—it wasn’t about dreams or friendship or love or romance. It was, in fact, methodical and we were prepared. We knew this wasn’t a fantasy: beach towels were laid across my bed so we wouldn’t stain the sheets with baby oil, this was the first time I showed Ryan how to use an enema, we took turns fucking with a small vibrator I’d bought at the Sex Shoppe on Ventura Boulevard before we carefully guided our own cocks into each other.
