Note from the saddle
Boy, I must’ve fucked up pretty bad if you cannot resist temptation to shout at me over the phone. Could you see me looking into the receiver?! My look then is beyond words now.
Boy, I must’ve fucked up pretty bad if you cannot resist temptation to shout at me over the phone. Could you see me looking into the receiver?! My look then is beyond words now.
It will make you feel more competent. Plus the annoying little fuck was asking for it. What do you mean it needed time to get around?! What’s up with all this shit?
This text is a budhist pamphlet.
I don’t want to waste my life in regrets and reproach. That makes my choice-decision making much easier. I hope it’s not too fast for you, nor too slow for me. I wish we could soon look back and laugh like in one of my favourite quotes “What a misunderstanding!”.
Until moments ago it has been snowing in all directions and I could not think of a better place to be than under the covers, in bed.
Now, when I am finally awake and I need to groom myself, a bad bad person has cut off the running water.
Looks like I have no choice but to get out of my shell these days.
I could’ve fallen for his eyes, but it was his incredible ability to perform the blow job that closed the deal for me. Men are suckers for a nice smile, a decent conversation and a blowing out of your mind blow job, in that reverse order of intensity. And I am one of them.
The intenser the act, the plainer the devastation after. Especially when his chubbishly rude but English spoken “gurlfriend!” suggested a threesome. I did not even make an excuse. I had enough: olive skin, deep dark eyes, his strange piercings, and a clean cut job to remember. Next morning I was still musing over my starbucks coffee.