In my defense, I didn’t know how to touch him in a nonproprietary way. I didn’t know how to mate with him and not brand him, too. And he’d loved it. Wanted and needed it as much as I had. His body would always betray his denial. But in the light of day and thinking with a lust-free head, he needed to pretend I was the bad guy. He needed someone to share the burden of blame.
