beta

What's a slut?" I ask him."A girl who puts out too easily.""Puts out what?" I imagine Greer putting out dinner and don't understand what Iwan wouldn't like about that."Puts out, you know..." His face, already beet red from our run, turns a darker scarlet. "Sex."I wonder where Greer puts the sex out.

In the first of our conversations, you explained how different time was for you__ow it__ an abstraction. Some hours glide past like birds, others are slow, plodding behemoths, stubborn and unwilling to leave.

Maybe your unspeakable defects give you power too?