Remember when I said all guys talk to their friends about sex?
Well, we do.
But no guy talks to his friends about sex with his girlfriend. Ever.
Her hands comb through the back of my hair gently. “When did you know?”
I smile. “The first time you let me come inside you without a rubber.
God! Oh God!”
I smile as I pick up the pace, “God’s not the one fucking you, baby.”
Sure, I’m in love, but this is still me here.
“Drew…Drew…yes…Drew!”
Much better.
The chicken Marsala I made looks…unique now that it’s actually out of the oven and on our plates.
Okay it’s fucking frightening. I admit it.
Can I have a pony?”
Oh, boy.
I think about it for exactly one second.
“Absolutely.”
She squeezes me tighter and squeals.
“Only…don’t tell mommy until after it’s delivered, okay?
I stare at the television as Belle bends over to feed a bird. Then I lean forward, hoping for a nice cleavage shot…
I’m going to hell, aren’t I?
I can’t help it. I’m desperate. Frustrated.
Horny
What’s the damage, sweetie?”
“Eighty dollars.”
Ouch.
She took my razor and kicked me out. Unlike women, guys don’t need privacy. There is no bodily function a man won’t perform in front of an audience.
We have no shame.
From inside, I hear Sister Beatrice’s voice: “Did Andrew leave already? Such a sweet boy he is. And devoted too, when he sets his heart to a task. Let me tell you about the time he weeded the convent’s garden. It’s a long story, but we ’ave all afternoon. There was a scuffle in the lunch room, you see…
Emma ChaseIn light of this, I’m not too disturbed about the semi I’m sporting while watching Beauty and the Beast—part of the homework Erin gave me. I like Belle. She’s hot. Well…for a cartoon, anyway. She reminds me of Kate. She’s resourceful. Smart. And she doesn’t take any shit from the Beast or that douchebag with the freakishly large arms
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