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“You think I’m throwing you a pity fuck?” “You’re not?” “No.” There’s a pause. “I need what I need too.” Another pause. “And I want it from you.”
“You’re being serious, aren’t you?” “Yes.” “You want to sleep together.” “Sleep, no. But I think we should fuck.”
“Don’t,” I warn. “What?” “You don’t have to feel bad for me. It’s over and done. I’m an adult.” “Doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad