Posted by J.R. Blackwell on December 2, 2005 · Leave a Comment
I’m sore and smiling from last nights’ athletics. My lover is still sleeping, his blue-green head resting on my pale pink chest. There are tiny raised welts on my hip and thigh where he bit me, and light red scratch lines on my back when, just a few hours ago, he was urgently pulling me [...]
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Posted by Jared Axelrod on December 1, 2005 · Leave a Comment
The first day we met, I described myself as a reader, but she never called herself a writer. Instead, she would always say she “had written†and would pull down her collar or roll up her sleeves and show people. They would catch a paragraph or two as it ticked across her chest or revolved [...]
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