cilla herself recalled ; so laboring from gentle stroke up to hard-stroking , mounting to a moment when all his flesh was rigid , knowing at that moment that his mind was totally zoned , that he was in another dimension , not one she could access but one she could conjure , and conjuration it was : his splattering not just high shots of sperm but evocations from so far down inside himself that it was like a voice from the beyond , normally dressed in simple gear , just a groan : an ethereal , almost ghastly , the nearest to a death-call shed ever get : `` o , god almighty ! ''