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kitchen but she
wanted to see my latest creation. Standing before the painting, her
dark eyes widened.
    "God!" she gasped, holding her hand to her mouth.
"That's you !"
    "No, it's not.
If it looks like me, it's not meant to," I replied softly. The
painting was good.
    "You can tell a mile off! It's you , Helen!"
    "It's a
commission."
    "Who on
earth..."
    "Someone you
don't know."
    "But... God!"
she gasped again. "What are you going to call it?"
    "Adultery," I
blurted out, unintentionally.
    She turned and
looked at me as if she knew that I'd just committed the sexual act
with the young man. I wanted to tell her that I had, but I
couldn't. Secrets shared are no longer secrets. Had she drunk from
a man's penis? I wondered, picturing her full red lips taut around
a huge cock. Did she allow her husband to come in her mouth?
Mouth-fuck.
    "Come through
to the kitchen and I'll make the coffee," I said, turning and
leaving the studio. She followed me, no doubt thinking her
thoughts, thoughts of adultery. Filling the kettle as she sat at
the table, I wondered whether to tell her of my addiction. "Tony's
away for a month," I said instead.
    "A month? God,
you must be lonely?"
    "I have my
work."
    "Your
adultery."
    My heart
leaped. "Oh, the painting. It was commissioned by a young woman.
She gave me rough sketches of what she wanted."
    "It's an
unusual request!" she giggled.
    "She's an
unusual woman."
    Did she drink
the sperm gushing from her husband's penis? I again wondered,
eyeing her succulent red lips. I wanted to watch Laura sucking a
man's knob and swallowing his sperm, although I didn't know why.
She wore a short red skirt, her shapely thighs exposed, and I
thought about her clitoris, wondering whether she masturbated. I
wanted to watch her masturbate. No, I didn't.
    "I sat on the
common," I said nonchalantly, pouring the coffee.
    "Did you?" She
frowned, probably wondering why I'd mentioned it. "You seem
different, Helen."
    "Different?"
    "Yes. Is
everything all right?"
    "I'm addicted
to sperm."
    She looked at
me as if I were mad. Perhaps I was. But I had to tell her, share my
secret. It wasn't a secret now. She asked me what I meant, and I
explained everything - almost everything. I kept the young man
secret.
    "It's
incredible!" she finally breathed.
    "It's
awful."
    "Tony's away
for a month, what will you do?"
    "I don't know.
What can I do?"
    I reiterated
and went into further detail, telling her more about the hippy
doctor, enzymes, testosterone, the panics, the palpitations. I
explained that, in order to work, I had to have sperm every other
day - in order to survive! The story was fascinating - I didn't
realize how fascinating until I'd told it.
    "I only wish I
could help," she sighed.
    "No one can
help me. Only... only Tony. Do you masturbate, Laura?"
    Why on earth
did I ask her that? I shouldn't have asked her such a personal
question. Her dark eyes widened, staring at me, reflecting my image
as I sat opposite her. She fiddled with her hair - long, jet-black,
shining, alluring... Averting her gaze, she was obviously pondering
on my question. I imagined her in the bath, her thighs wide, her
fingers between her parted pussy lips, massaging her clitoris - her
mouth open, gasping in her coming. I didn't know why I'd imagined
that.
    "No, I don't,"
she finally replied, her head low. "I think you should see someone,
Helen."
    "See
someone?"
    "Chat to
someone about... about your problems."
    "A shrink, you
mean?"
    "Yes, no...
You're different, what's happened to you?"
    "I seduced a
young man on the common. I needed sperm and..."
    "You seduced a
stranger?"
    "I had to. I
can't survive without sperm, Laura."
    "I don't know
what's happened to you, but I don't believe a word of it. Addicted
to sperm? Seduced a stranger? You should write fiction rather than
paint!"
    "Truth is
stranger."
    She made a
feeble excuse and left. I wished I hadn't told her, it was stupid.
I felt sadness dripping onto me from a heavy cloud, seeping into
me. I could