“Your other diary”, I clarified. Marci nearly choked on the last spoonful. She was sitting directly across from me at the table. She wasn’t ex...ctly dressed up, probably expecting to be lounging around the house all day. She had on some gym shorts, and a yellow baby-doll top, but nothing else. Her young pert nipples were strained against the thin material tightly stretched across her chest, her tiny pink areola obscured by the vibrant yellow material. “Your entries were quite vivid”, I. I inhale and I take in life, not mere oxygen, but life, made up of equal parts desire and respect. It takes respect to submit so completely to her pleasure, to immerse myself so deeply in her most private of places. She is not a fortress to be breached, but a shelter in which to be brought inside. She is not a battle or a conquest, but she is a gift, divine, and she is a table, a meal, to which I must be invited.I savour her as I inhale her. Her fragrance is with me still, even though that. More

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