You lying, cheating fraud you. You know every well you’ve cheated in your heart. You will always lust after beautiful young women. He tried to think…sacrifice your lust. Give it up. Suffer. Tell the truth. You just wanna fuck her. Just fuck. No family, no commitment. Just fuck. Call me when you’re horny, when you want a big one hard, from behind, on top, in a chair…missionary too and sidesaddle, side by side. That’s about the limit of my Kama sutra gymnastics. I don’t want marriage, kids…all those joys, I grant you, but the horrible heartache as well. Oh the pain of bearing and carrying on the desire. Nice if you can handle the pain…but two such families in one lifetime or at the same time! No! Madness.
He couldn’t keep focused on his manuscript. The cabin felt like an overheated prison; solitary confinement. He tossed aside his pen and went for a walk, down the road to the village. There fell to, smoking a fine cigar and watching a VFW baseball game, chatting with this or that citizen as the Village Green team battled back against the superior record team from the west, over the covered bridge.
Tied, lost the tie, came back, got ahead, tied again in the ninth and went to the bottom of the 10th when the left fielder hit a line drive deep down the 3rd base line slipping by the outfielder…and came home with the ball tailing.
Afterwards, he marched off to a fish dinner at the hall and later that night sang songs and fell asleep after two cognacs. Lust postponed—nay, sacrificed.