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If I cared enough
I will break your heart
In a weight of pleasure

There�s an hour of quiet when I get home. Most of the time, this is the Masturbation Hour. Sometimes, though, I�m too tired to be messing with it.

Not today.

Today, I made a cup of coffee, checked my email, and went back to my bedroom. I normally take any clothing I have off, or at least my pants and sweatshirt, crawl into bed, and get to business. Today was a T-shirt day. I noticed something odd.

I took off my socks.

Why? Did I think the socks would get in the way? Would my feet get hot? Are socks some how sexy, attractive?

. . .

I�m so much like a man some days, I scare myself. I can manually make this mysterious thing happen just by moving two fingers in a circle. Lightly then more pressure, other hand doing other things. I wonder why I didn�t figure all of this out at 15.

. . .

I�ve been thinking long and hard about a site meter for this. I�ve decided against it, it just adds too much drama, makes me too paranoid to add anything.

. . .

You may be afraid to say things because someone is watching. You may want to say things that you don�t want anyone to hear. You may need to tell me something.

I want to hear it all.

I can only imagine it in a whisper, in my left ear, except I want your hand over my mouth, and I want you to keep talking.

Could two people be more cruel to each other?

Go listen to Vertical Desert.

3:56 p.m. - 2002-10-11


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