A strange apathy oozes down the walls of our love nest—too familiar to penetrate. To generate interest. Compassion without intrigue feels like settling down.
You will hate me when you see the flirtatious batting of lids and flipping of tresses. They are not directed at your inquiring gestures.
And I know the secret (the key if you will) to opening the Pandora's box of his smothered sexual fantasies--
Strip-tease, tickle, drip, squeeze, lickleslap, grab, thrust, grunt, and dickle.
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