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January 5 - January 12, 2025
I’ve conquered my fear of toilets.
“You lick what’s left of your balls on my pillow when you think I’m not looking so let’s be kinder when it comes to judging each other, okay?”
“I must be asleep on the couch and this is all a dream. Thankfully I live alone so there’s no one to judge me if I wake up humping one of the cushions.”
“Yesterday, did you lick the entire length of the fork?” “No,” I deny automatically even though a memory of doing exactly that comes back to me.
“Are you unwell?” I laugh then stop abruptly. “Probably.”
I don’t like to watch anything sad because reality is often sad enough.”
“You’re pretty handsy for a man who can’t put out.”
“I don’t have any money.” I roll my eyes. “That makes you no different than the last two men who asked me out.”
There’s just something about a fork questioning my dating practices that tickles my sense of humor. Gasping for air and waving at him, I say, “If he’s not up to your standards . . . what would you do? Fork him up?”
“Thankfully, my social life is none of your forking business.” He steps closer. “Done yet?”
“Not even forking close.” He nods and purses his lips. “You’re getting good at this.”
“God, I want to—” “Fork me?” I giggle nervously.
balls deep in me,
Oh, my God, he really is a fork. My fork. I fucked my fork. I was forked.