‘I gaze up longingly up at him as he enters me, slowly and gently at first; but soon, spurred by the pleading in my moans, his hunger overtakes him and his thrusts take on more desperation and urgency. I’m clinging to his shoulders as I’m engulfed by white hot peaks of ecstasy, and I hear him let out little moans of pleasure as he empties his seed into me. As we gaze at each other, trading kisses, I breathlessly ask, “It’s your birthday, Arno. Why do I feel like I’m the one who got a gift?”’

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