Two blue butterflies - a short story

Two blue butterflies - a short story. (Adults only.) -3rd one on this prompt.

They had never met but there was a kind of electricity between the two of them that left him frothing at the mouth, metaphorically speaking, and her weak at the knees. The power of Second Life can only be known by those who have experienced it. Whenever they met their avatars immediately reached out for each other and could not stop making love frantically to each other whether in the galaxies or on earth or on a beach or in the safety of one of their houses. It was strange, it was uncanny and it was unbelievable.

Though on Second Life she was so bold with him in life she was rather innocent. He led her further and further into the knowledge of and exploration of her own sexuality. It exhilarated her as for the first time as a woman she was becoming fully aware of herself and her body. It gave her newfound confidence that showed in her face and walk, in the sway of her hips, when she went for work. One day he taught her how to locate her clitoris and she was astounded as for so many years she had heard of its existence but had not connected it with reality. She was shy, bashful, and even silent but at the same time, her interest peaked. She called him Osho in her mind and her tantric sex-and-love guru, smiling secretly to herself.

Then came the pandemic. And the tragedy. He fell sick. She felt frantic but could not go to him as he was quarantined. She finally got the shocking news one day that he had died. She logged into Second Life and sent him a hi but there was no reply, naturally. She wept and wept.

That night she had a strange dream. She was in Second Life, nude, and in a forest calling out his name. She called again and again, desperate to locate him. They had loved each other deeply, she knew now, it had not just been sex.

She was about to give up and tired she lay down on the soft green grass, in a clearing in the forest in one of their settings. She slept. When she woke it was afternoon and the glade was full of flowers and butterflies. A blue one came and sat on her thigh. She wondered why. To her surprise, it crawled to the labia of her genitalia and suddenly with a short flight alighted on them. The butterfly's proboscis was searching, she understood, for her clitoris.

In her state of semi-sleep and semi-wakefulness, in the forest, in the glade, she opened her legs and thighs fully wide welcomingly and let it drink of the nectar of the black rose between her legs, till she was filled with a strange nameless ecstasy.

"Osho, is that you?", she heard herself mutter.

There was no answer. Butterflies don't reply in human language, after all.

She woke up with a very high fever. She did not have to check to know that she had got it too. The damned illness, Soon she would also die and join him in that glade in the forest at noon and proboscis to proboscis they would drink nectar from each other and the many different kinds of flowers there around them, again, but this time as two blue butterflies,