My cock was still twitching from Hope‘s most recent draining of it when I stumbled on a page in a journal from our first evening together. I asked her, as I left for the men’s room, to write some words.
Here’s what she wrote:
And then, beneath that list, one other word. It looks to have begun with “A,” and to have ended with “ing.” Or maybe, with “y.” I can’t quite tell. She scribbled it out furiously.