Monday, June 13, 2005

As Usual, Sex Rears its Swollen, Pulsating Head.

He nailed me the other night. Monsieur, that is. I was so happy just to get rid of the tension and yet right afterwards he said to me, “It can not happen any more. Never again.”
Never again. Damn.
Oh, he made these noises and all about how it would be upsetting for the children, and it would be too soon for him but still. Damn.
Doesn’t he need it? Of course he’s mourning. I knew it would get sticky and complicated if I stayed here. But if he kicks me out I’ll die.
But I gotta tell you, blog o’ mine. It was … wonderful. Delicious.
And, he’s hung like the freaking Louisiana Purchase.

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