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No one else calls him Matthew.

He introduces himself as Matt, so I never really pondered it. Yesterday as I watched, a lover called him Matthew as he thrust inside her. He stopped what he was doing and corrected her.

"No," he told her. "Please, don't call me that – Matt, call me Matt."

I stopped spying on him. I wanted answers, I have them.

Now I have to ask myself why I needed to know them in the first place.

I know that there has never been a male lover before or since.

I know that he is a considerate and polite sexual partner.

I also know that he never stays longer than the act takes. He never leaves his woman unsatisfied. No, he leaves them sated and sleeping.

But leave he does. And he leaves nothing of himself behind.

Not even his seed.

He climaxes alone, calling my name as he does. A prayer? A request? A plea? A curse?

I have answers. Perhaps the questions were wrong.

I am who he wants.

I am not what he needs.