Tagged: Sex (778)

They lie there, intertwined, drunk with lust. Breathless. Glistening. You’re an odd duck, he says. My mother played the violin, she replies.

He cuts his tongue licking an envelope. Then bites it chewing gum. And burns it drinking coffee. That night his girlfriend calls him useless

The fireplace mesmerizes everyone in the room. He stands up and surveys the scene. He snaps his fingers. Now take off your clothes, he says.

He rolls off her and they listen to each other breathing; the aftermath of intimacy. That confirmed it, she says. I’m going to become a nun.

This was the end of things. Literally. The cul-de-sac was creepy, the houses covered in vegetation. Hold me, she said. And he becomes a man.

He touched her gently and she complained that she “couldn’t feel it” and when he finally confronted her she said “your hands are too small.”