the book of embraces, chapter Tristan

The image that he always remembered of her was the one time he’d talked dirty to her and her cheeks went pink with blood, not from embarrassment, from being turned on. She was a nice girl and took her youngish, badly married, mother’s advice and attitudes quite seriously. She was shocked to discuss oral sex, repulsed by the thought of having it done to her. She was personally offended that occasionally people had sex without being face to face. She wanted none of it, she said. Still the way he always remembered her was the one time he’d talked dirty to her when she was on top of him up in his little loft. She hadn’t hit her head on the ceiling once that afternoon.

When she came she barked and squeaked like a small dog or a giant mouse. It was really cute and lasted a long time and she seemed unaware of it and the force with which she was striking it home like she was trying to perform the Heimlich on herself.

He asked her after it all, “Haven’t you ever had an orgasm before?”

She replied, “Not like that.”

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