…and it wasn’t until it began that it began. the periods after remarks. fumbled parts of ricocheted actions. the reddest of reds beaming forward to win the race.
it was a drop. a force. yet tepid, your reactions. the narrowed beams of pleasant fills. ample folds, fat and forgiving. your smile, unreal.
a packaged waver, allowing the flow. draining me true.
how can it be?