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I wet my hair and used the very expensive shampoo to wash it. A silly exercise, really, since I’d showered and groomed meticulously before heading out tonight. All that effort for my hookup.

Never let it be said Archer Chamberlain didn’t always look his best.

After rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, I snagged the bottle of lube.

And eyed the dildo.

I’d selected slender and long. Since almost twenty years had passed since I’d last done this, I figured starting small might be a good idea.

Now, in the diffuse light of the shower, the damn thing didn’t look all that small.

Even the sparkly purple color didn’t make it look less menacing.

You thought this was a good idea?

As a way to get back in the saddle? Yeah, it’d seemed like a great idea.

Now?

Not so much.

Start small.

I eyed my index finger. Yeah, that’d be okay. So I put lube on my finger. First, I circled my hole with it. Then I added more lube—because one could never have too much lube.

Well, you could and the dildo might slip out, but that’s not likely the issue here…

I braced myself against the shower wall, with water continuing to race down me in rivulets, and slid my finger in.

Okay…not bad at all. Weird, sure, but you’ve done this before…

I was tempted to tell my inner voice to pipe down, but it never listened, so I kept going. Generally, I enjoyed topping. Sometimes, though, I wanted the feel of a cock inside me. So, in the spirit of moving forward, I added a second finger.

Bit of a burn. Nothing overwhelming. Totally something you can handle.

Wow, encouragement. Ah, he was just likely wanting to get lucky.

Progress. My cock was plumping nicely and my balls were definitely getting interested.

I sank my fingers in deeper.

If I can just…nope, wrong angle. No way to reach my prostate without some contorting.

That dildo will hit your prostate nicely. Think of how much fun that would be —

I might not have been convinced. However, my inner voice was jumping up and down with joy. Possibly also misplaced optimism. Probably simple horniness. Still, in the spirit of trying new things, I scissored my fingers. Because nothing wrong with opening myself up. I might not have planned to bottom tonight, but that eventuality wasn’t off the table entirely. My versatility had always made me an easy lay.

Back more than fifteen years ago. You’re over the hill —

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Thirty-nine was not fucking over the hill . Plenty of guys were hitting their prime at my age.

Okay, maybe not my sexual prime—because refractory periods were a thing today in a way they hadn’t been when I’d been eighteen—but still… I was successful. I was prosperous.

You’re divorced, with no kids and no legacy for the future.

My cock started to shrivel.

I withdrew my fingers and snagged the bottle of lube. I dropped a huge dollop onto my fingers. Then I lubed the dildo. Before I could talk myself out of doing the questionable, I positioned myself.

As much as I just wanted to ram myself onto the damn thing, I didn’t fancy a visit to the ER and having to describe how I’d gotten myself into the situation. Instead, I eased the head slowly in. Centimeter by centimeter until I felt a little pop.

Okay, the worst of it’s over .

That knowledge didn’t relieve the burn. The hurt that was at once good and not so much.

Should’ve picked a smaller dildo. Had to think you could take more than you actually can.

The thought elicited a snicker even as I sank deeper.

Oh God. Yep, I could feel that. That overfull sensation along with something teasing pleasure.

I shifted.

The dildo rubbed my prostate.

All was good with the world.

From there, I just had to fall back into a rhythm long in the distant past and yet also achingly familiar. I’d enjoyed this, once upon a time. I’d also enjoyed topping a man. I hadn’t cared.

Well, except for using protection. No way was I catching something.

And when I switched to female companions, no way was I knocking someone up.

That hollow feeling hit my chest.

Focus. Imaging some guy is reaming your ass. Is giving you everything you want. Everything you need.

Yeah, that.

Something broke inside me. I twisted my nipples to get that extra bit of sensation before my hand slid down my chest.

Nice pecs, great abs, and…

I encircled my hand around my cock. With no small amount of coordination, I timed my tugs with the sliding back and forth on the dildo. Slow at first—finding my footing. Then increasing the pace. Chasing the orgasm I so badly wanted. So badly needed.

The glide of my hand along my shaft—matching the rhythm. My previously neglected prostate received attention after almost twenty years of abstinence. My balls tingled as they drew up.

I shot my load. Just let it go as I rocked back against the dildo and held myself still.

The overwhelming bombardment of sensation was almost too much to take, and I sagged.

Resulting in the dildo going farther up my ass.

Shit .

So pulled myself off.

Fuck.

Okay, that hurt as well.

Yet I continued to milk myself through the intense orgasm, even as my cock became overly sensitive. My body signaled it was ready to give up the fight, even as I clung to that last little bit of pleasure.

I pressed myself against the back of the cold shower wall and slid down, letting the water continue to cascade over me. I’m wasting water.

Yeah, maybe. But the rain will refill the reservoir.

That might not be strictly true, but Vancouver hadn’t had a water shortage in a while. As long as we had a good snowpack, we’d be okay next year during the arid summer months.

Right…and that’s what really matters?

When I wanted a green lawn in the summer, it did.

You’ll be in your new home by then.

Yeah, I would. I scrubbed my face with my hands. I wouldn’t be living in Mission City full-time. My law practice was still in the city, after all. But I’d be able to spend most weekends up in my mountain retreat.

My heart sped up at the idea.

Which was weird, because I should’ve been coming down after that mind-blowing orgasm. Best in almost—

Nope. Not going to put Thea down. She was good in bed. At least when she came to it. We’d had separate beds—

Pain seized me.

And not for the dissolution of my marriage.

Something hurt. Really hurt. In my chest.

It’s nothing. You’re a thirty-nine-year-old healthy man. You run. You lift weights. You take care of yourself. This is just…a panic attack. A realization that your life as you’ve known it is over. Celebrate that. Something new and better will come along.

Just not the guy with the control issues.

I tried to stand. With the slippery tile and the residual lube, I couldn’t get a grip.

Right. Nothing to do with the fact you’re lightheaded and your chest still hurts.

Nope. Not that.

I eased myself onto my knees, crawled to the side of the shower where the handle was, and used it to slowly raise myself. Despite the dizziness, I turned enough to get the flow going down my crack. I washed away the last of the lube, thanking the substance for having allowed me such pleasure. Because anal without lube was a hell I wasn’t willing to contemplate.

After I shut off the water, I stood for a moment to catch my breath.

Catch my breath.

When had I ever been out of breath except after a good workout? Or a good bout of hot’n’sweaty sex? Not even when I’d held each niece and nephew after they’d been born had I lost my breath. Even with the ripping inside my chest, the pain had been metaphorical.

Not literal.

You could have adopted. Plenty of kids needing —

Nope. Wasn’t going there either. Thea only wanted her own biological kids. Bringing in a child of my heart wouldn’t likely have swayed her. As it stood, most of my siblings had named me guardian of their children—should anything happen to them. That would change now I was a single man. They probably all believed Thea would’ve made a good mother.

More fool them.

My heart slowed a bit.

Just got overheated. Look at the steam . You look like a lobster.

Yeah, I did look rather…red. I exited the shower, grabbed a towel and then, after a wave of dizziness hit, I dropped onto the toilet seat.

My ass protested.

Fuck off.

Slowly, I toweled myself dry. Taking my time. Making certain I didn’t raise my heart rate again.

So weird.

You think? I wanted to shout at my inner voice. Of course, it was weird. Everything was weird these days. All the things that had centered me for years were gone. I was unmoored. My anchor had been yanked up. I was adrift.

Enough with the sailing metaphors. What the fuck are you going to do?

Well…get into bed. Most especially because I hadn’t brought pajamas. Not that I used them anyway. I loved slipping between cool, clean sheets at night and having nothing against my skin.

You need to dry your hair. If you didn’t keep it so long —

Wow, my inner voice was extra snarky tonight. Generally, he tended to stay in the recesses of my mind—only making appearances when I was in doubt of something.