As lovers Tim and Tiff were a natural disaster.

The first night they were together, sexually, the earth moved! Literally. For it was at the exact moment of a searing climactic mutual release that a 3.9 magnitude earthquake drifted along the San Andreas fault and gave a vibrant 5^th dimension to their shared orgasms.

They were doomed! How in heaven’s name were they to replicate the sheer magic of that earth-shifting spasm? God bless them, they tried. Adamantly and passionately they gave to each other. With abandon and creativity, they sought to replicate their initial consummation – but they could not. The earth would no longer move for them. Not even a tremor. They were after-shocked!

Whatever bliss they lovingly shared always fell short of the initial, ripe, rippling landscape of their first sexual encounter. There was no possible way to fake an orgasm that needed to be tectonically punctuated. Heroically their love still flourished, based largely on reminiscence. Fondly they shared a knowing smile and the realization that a seismic second chance was mathematically impossible. And yet they hoped. And gallantly they tried.

In time they came to blame California, knowing that earthquakes were a feature of the landscape of their once ‘Golden State’. The unrealized hope for a second coming was depressing. Faithfully they would invest their passions, and their desire-for-completion, in a dedicated physical prelude to a finale that never would arrive. It shook them to their core. Bridging that penultimate sexual moment, hoping that a foundation shearing shift was about to enhance them once again. But no. California and its promise of a fairy-tale ending was an illusion.

Tim and Tiff left San Diego and moved to Reno, Nevada. There were no ‘California’ earthquakes in Nevada. Love-making could again become honest passion without the need of nature’s fickle stagecraft. They rented a small furnished home just outside of town. It was a cozy little two bedroom, on an organic farm, just far enough from the main house to allow some privacy – but near enough to bring them society amongst the fields.

On July 4th they spent their first night in their new home. With a sense of expectation, the loving couple bid goodnight to their landlord hosts. It was just a fire-works display after nightfall, hand in hand they made their way up the path. Eager for the unfettered release they deserved and sought, intent on the intensity that their arousal and satiation would give them. They held no preconceptions requiring the waggle of earthly intrusion. This celebration of Independence was well within their means.

They shut the lights, ignored their jammies, and nestled together. Eager for the second-best love making experience of their lives. They kissed and they grasped. They rubbed, licked and gasped – while just over the horizon a dark funnel cloud crept up behind them and laughed. The timing was exquisite! With toes curled and backs arched they spun as one in the bliss of the swirl – as the roof slowly lifted from their home. They shifted, panting at the void, still trembling, earth shatteringly satisfied… It was time to move again.

It was in Hilo, HI, that their eruptions coincided with Mauna Loa’s volcanic core shuddering shimmy.

It was in Chehalis Lake, British Columbia that a landslide induced tsunami sent waves of water colliding with their cabin, adding to the crescent of their own waves of delight and sweet collisions of their own.

It became an obsession. Like storm chasers in pursuit of a disaster. The couple visited the world in keen awareness that they had become players in a sexual triad. It seemed clear that nature was not their doom but their sexual companion. Nature as a threesome was a stimulating concept. Who says it’s not nice to fool (around with) Mother Nature?

They picked travel spots at random. Whenever possible, nature provided. But she is a fickle lover. There was the staccato of fully realized ecstacy as locusts pummeled the exterior walls of their Egyptian hotel. Golf-ball sized hail storms, holistically attuned, punctuated their passions on Mercer Island in upstate Washington.

Broke, obsessed, and completely hooked on next-level-naturalism the couple pondered their end game. The places they went and the intimacy they shared was for the love of the place and each other. And yet, without the coincidental natural occurrence, their love making was almost unrewarding. The affections were real, but the zest was induced by a power not their own.

Could they continue on this way? Never allowed the bliss of orgasm ala carte. Did the events bring orgasm, or would orgasm spawn the event? Were they responsible for collateral damages? Did they care? Could this life they’d found, and earth’s gift of the ultimate intimate climactic reward, be maintained? Was a life without the random gift of a shattering completion worth living?

They decided: “No!”

Fukushima, Japan. Where tsunamis and earthquakes threatened a landscape that boasted nuclear reactors. If fate was to be tempted, collateral damage ignored, and culminations enhanced – what was the potential of such a location? Tim and Tiff booked a room at the recently refurbished Fukushima Hilton. The name of the city itself even looked rakishly sexual. There was no turning back. Come hell or high water (or nuclear incineration) they were committed to the end.

The love making was purposeful. The pitch increasing as did the tempo. They teased and pleasured and kept close vigil on their connection. Outside the shade drawn windows stood the reactors. Within the walls a radiant passion glowed. The intensity could no longer be contained. The moment came with a bright blinding flash, a searing white heat, a roar both primal and eternal. Their senses were illuminated and yet the couple remained. Complete and fulfilled. Safe in the after-glow and completely free of the restraints of disaster.

From this day on their love making would be their own, natural, climactic and wonderous! Gleefully, they headed for the lobby. Their goal was the hotel bar and a celebratory toast. A tip to freedom from fates fleeting forces. The elevator doors gently closed as the couple held each other’s eyes in a glowing loving embrace, and the elevator cable inexplicably sheared and the nature of gravity did the rest.