Confessions V


I don’t want you anymore. Not now. For sure – not tomorrow. Yes, there was a time when you were very young (you’re still young) and just the way it felt having your tongue swirl around my nipple, the way my b-size fit snuggly into your c-shaped mouth.

But now I watch you, slouched in that chair, the tips of your boots lightly touching the tips of my toes, and I feel nothing. You are here, yes, but already you are filed away in the appendix of my mind, I will visit upon only at the end, when I’ve forgotten the order and the matter.

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