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From between his soft thighs, I wondered what to do about my hard cock.
queer giddiness passed over me, as when you stumble upon and catch eyes with a moose in the woods, and for an instant hangs the possibility that all you know might go lopsided.
We both of us just waited. I could see his breath light up whenever the vapor drifted across the sunbeams shining through the chinking. We both of us smelled of piney spruce gum.
A voice trailed from far off in the moon-shadowed slopes. It twisted and echoed, the words beyond decipher; voice sometimes seeming singular, sometimes multiple, until finally, it separated and cohered into two voices. Arguing. Approaching. The trees swayed low and dark birds arrowed so fast amongst the bare branches, I could not catch one full in my sight. The whole winter forest wavering before me as in a heat mirage. Or so it appeared, before I understood that in fact all was still. That what I was seeing was the movement of shadows, as a lantern floated through the forest:
she has the disdain for femininity of second-wave feminism without the accompanying sense of female solidarity.