I get why you fucked my best friend: she's rather attractive with her
boarded body and promise of superficial lacerations. I get why you
fucked my boyfriend: I have, after all, stopped fucking him. Did you
also find him a disappointment? His cock, above average, but he's no
good on top. He's rocky, his movement unpredictable. I get why you
fucked my mother. Freud and all.
But Wigleaf, I wonder: what's wrong with me? I don't wear a chastity
belt, and you have no standards.
But Wigleaf, know this: I'm not making you an offer.
But Wigleaf, when you arrive at my apartment door later tonight
tomorrow and the next day, candied with want, I won't be home. I will
never be home again.
- - -
Read LH's pair, "Two Love Stories."
w i g · l e a F