02
Jul
15

20 fire

She’d have him sing  ..  sing to her tune.  Zinging. His flesh humming.  His skin trilling in a falsetto of pain.
He’d thought he could win.  Sure she couldn’t make him dance.  She’d make this macho maleness leap..  a jig only she could lead.
She’d take his will.  She’d break his strength.  Devour his strength of will  …..

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in praise of men we’d like to be

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