The anxiety of being alone with a vibrant young woman in a welcoming position of a compromising nature caused my heart to flutter. Not romantic flutter, but an I am having heart failure! flutter. But to turn down the sweet candiness of life would be tantamount to committing seppuku. Performance anxiety can be dealt with, especially when considering performing.

When arriving at the small cottage hidden under trees and behind bushes, I thought she was living in a childs playhouse. The building was such a bright, clean yellow, you did not want to touch the door. But there was candy on the other side, so a rapid, powerful knock was in order.

She was a perfect hostess. The possibility that this was a sympathy dinner had to be considered; I was immediately seated and served a home cooked meal. A home cooked meal! It all came rushing back, the hours spent in kitchens cooking with loved ones. The food, festivity and passion warmed the heart. Again, an action taken for granted until gone. An orgy of color, taste, texture and smell presented as perfectly prepared pork chops, asparagus and potatoes. And a glass of wine, or course.

When drinking alcohol while living under the abandonment of residence under the stars, it is not to savor flavor. You drink for the kick of the alcohol, and the stronger the better. With this elegant meal was a small glass of wine perfectly paired with the food. The wine was to be sipped and had flavor that added to the meal. The kick was not the purpose, it was a message of the mind to drown any remaining tension. Having done nothing more than share a simple meal, it was more passion than I had dared to hope to experience again when sleeping in the stench of the great outdoor life of a vagabond.

When the meal was complete, the fresh, glowing hostess placed a rich chocolate dessert before my drooling eyes. There is nothing greater in the candied universe than to submit to chocolate desires. Unfortunately, if I were to succumb to the chocolate, my body would be lost to ecstatic gluttony and the fresh young woman who had been so deviously ramping up my arousal for the evening would be unable to experience the fullness of my great desire. Perhaps later, as if I recall correctly I am hungry after expending sexual energies. Perhaps one bite...

I can die now, I whispered in shame. It was the most perfect desert, bringing my mouth to the full of its unspoken purpose.

Excuse me? she laughed.

I can die now.

Its just a dessert, but thank you.

I have not lived in your world for some time. I long ago dismissed all enjoyment of the senses. To taste this meal is to live, not just be alive.

Wow, you really know how to flatter a chef.

Im just being honest, and my words are feeble. There is no way I can speak words that would properly thank you for this meal.

Maybe you should not use words?

I... began, then understood.

She came to me and pressed her full, soft body against me while running her hand through what little hair still found itself loyal to my head.

There was hesitation, the heart fluttering with failure, but when she lifted her bare leg and placed her knee gently into my crotch, I knew this was not just about the meal. I touched. I placed my hand on her tight, smooth thigh, feeling its soft perfection. Instinctively, I moved my hand up her leg and...my head has more hair, but now I know what it would feel like bald.

Awkward and heart racing, flirting with over-acceleration and the disaster which accompanies, we managed to get to her small bed. Our clothes disappeared. My hands, the whole of my body wrapped the sweet candy. There is nothing more pleasurable to the mouth than the licking and caressing of sweet, fresh candy. It felt so warm, so fresh, sticky, moist with momentum.

Where have I been?

After tasting every nook and cranny of the sweet, cooing goodness, she whispered an invitation: I want you in me.

The heart skipped. The slightest touch would cause an uncontrollable eruption of finality. Protection would solve the sensitivity problem, and protect the Cap...me from...not sure what, anymore.

I should wrap this candy, I answered, embarrassed.

I want you in me, she whispered more forcefully, pulling me toward her.

But its been a while, and the slightest touch...

Thats okay. I want you in me.

With her request, I granted the mixing of sweet and sour. I dipped hard candy into warm sticky sweetness and felt...and felt...and...felt. There are no words to describe the meaning of life for a man.

To be truly alive you must live. Existence is for those afraid of being alive. It is good to be living again...okay, sooooooo goooooood!