“Yes, Sergei told me that making love to me was like a fine feast, and at the end of every feast is dessert and coffee. He said that having his peni... between my breasts and shooting sperm on my neck and chin was like dessert.” She chuckled. “I told him he was like the Big Bad Wolf in the Three Little Pigs. What he was suggesting was like blowing their houses down. I said I didn’t want him to do it ... that it disgusted me and that he couldn’t do it... ‘ not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin.. The emails came as promised, and he looked forward to them each morning as he rose. ‘Good morning, Cal, I hope you slept well last night.’ Then she would tell him all about her classes, her children, her husband, her life. He would write in return, sharing as best he could the small things that made up his lonely existence . . . but never letting her know the extent of that loneliness. Then, after five years of joyful correspondence, the final email came. ‘Dear Cal . . .’ Her husband, now a. More

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