Abstinence. A small virus succeeded where the Holy Church failed. “I wanna fuck” is the unanimous cry you can hear in lusty Rome. “No, you can’t” is Covid- 19’s merciless answer. The only one who is still doing it, sex that is, is Trucione. I talk to him almost every night. Yesterday he was particularly happy: “What have you done?” I ask. “Well, nothing”, he says.
Little pink Riding Hood. I insist and he starts telling me, proudly, about his morning adventure. It’s been days since he started to talk to one of his ex, a chilled girl, “Surely she is negative” he tries to convince me. He got back flirting with her, making her believe about a future post-quarantine, instead all he wants is sex, a hit and run. She trusts him. They go through the details. At 10 o’clock she rings his bell. In the elevator she puts on a hood, a pink one you can find in a Chinese store, down to her feet.
Disinfectant. He is waiting for her with his protective suit on. The house is completely sterile; it smells of disinfectant. There are plastic sheets on the entrance floor, same as the one used to protect laundry when it’s raining. As the bell rings, he puts on his protective gear and two condoms: “I’ve had a hard on for a month” he replays when he sees me doubtful about his performance. He leaves the door ajar. She enters backwards, she gets on her all fours to do the forbidden deed. Everything happens in the shortest possible time in order to avoid the virus potentially spreading and in total silence, in case his neighbors find out.
Zoom. Once everything is over, she gets up and leaves, he runs under the shower: disinfectant à go-go, even there. After about an hour the see each other again, on zoom: “It was beautiful”, she says, “You know, unfortunately I had to cum pretty quick, something I wouldn’t normally do”, he boasts. No, it’s not the usual sex…