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Wednesday, May 25, 2022

He smells of coffee and tobacco. His hands were rough. Beneath the table, out of sight, he found delight in playing with my dick like it were a kite string.

He walked slowly as I followed him closely to his one room in a shared apartment. He pushed me down onto the small bed where he gave me head, fed his mouth with cream filling.

Walked home in the rain singing along to a song playing somewhere in the dark, walking through a park as night shifted to morning again.

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Categories: Fiction poetry short story writing

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