Whore D’Oeuvres

Ward Clever

We sat in the middle of the house, the exact center, as determined by GPS satellites and a few guesses. It didn’t bode well that the house rotated on its axis.

Contrary to the usual desires, you were a whore in the kitchen and a saint in the bedroom. You did naughty things to me over and over with food until I was completely spent and sated, and then it was straight missionary, practically Jesuit. I fantasized partly about your culinary prowess, and partly about finishing so I could do something else. It wasn’t pretty, but the mirror on the ceiling and the clock on the wall gave me something to do while you enjoyed yourself.

I ordered a pizza afterwards. I just couldn’t take the vanilla any longer. And yes, I got it with pineapple. That belongs on a pizza, just as much as I belonged with someone who…

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Author: oldepunk

Writing about my views of the world in a stream of conscience style

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