The book afterglow is the final resting place for many unmeasureable meaningful memories in the art of making love. All events share equal status, no matter the length or depth. There is not one event holding higher regard or of more importance than another. If it were not so, the art of making love would be lopsided.
The kiss of a tit, the touch of a twat, the popping of a prune, or the licking of a cunt, or with the overwhelming influence of sex we jumped each other's bones and fucked ourselves silly, these events are all a part of the art of making love. Just as much so as the tender touch of my lips caressed the soft overlay of her nipples and I began to spread the inner lips of her vaginal canal with my thumb and forefinger, she suddenly displayed the favorable reception of rear entry, with the kiss massaging of her pussy lips my tongue found her glorious clitoris as we joined forces to complete the effortless task of making love and we became one.
Although the interest of sex was primed by what might have been a verbal slip from one of his aunts in the early stages of the author's life. From what we understand it could also have been somewhat hereditary. The fact is, all through the early stages of his life women were extremely attentive and treated him very nice. They seemed to always make an effort to show that he was special, and they wanted to please and take care of him.
It is understood he performs the way he does not only because he loves to, but he wants to, it is somewhat of a repayment process. The events that took place with his playmates and babysitter, his nurses and candy stripers, determined his lifestyle. When someone chooses this path of travel, they must understand the best way to spend their later years are with the memories created throughout their life. If one wants to be happy in their little world of afterglow, they have to make some very good memories.
