These wicked books  created honey between my legs, leaving me with even more of a hunger than before. With rapturous delight, I felt broken well, over and over again. But with the sun rising, it was a sign to get up—the rays peeking silently through the silk curtain, the black fabric wafted by an invisible wind. Peeking out, I spotted dust kicked up by our family truck on the dirt road in the distance.

What a shame. I had hoped for another round, but this time with my handsome husband. Where was he going so early this morning?

Well, pooh.

14 thoughts on “Miffed

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