Our Whet Love

My heart beats faster than hers, it always has. She’s moving the kris closer in this new motion. Next swing, she’ll be cutting me with that beautiful curved blade I bought her on her birthday. I’m moving out of her range with my bowie knife in reverse grip. We knew it would never last. All that penetration, all that screaming, it seemed just wrong without knives involved. We weren’t going to accept substitutes forever.

I’ve got to say, sex was easier and the hospitals asked less questions. C’est la vie, I guess.

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