After yet another orgasm for me, he releases and pulls out. He slaps my ass again and falls to the bed. “Damn, Chrissy.” “That was incredible.�... I cuddle up next to him and he holds me. I love his smell. Issey Miyake and his natural scent…intoxicating. We fall asleep in each other’s arms. At around two in the morning, I hear him in the living room watching TV. I can’t place what he’s watching, but I do hear him crying. I stay in bed, paralyzed by what I’m hearing. I can’t let him know I heard. I climbed the wheelchair ramp. Most of them were smoking and sober, talking about people I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have had time to know them anyhow, and sleep deprivation made it difficult to remember names. I could recognize faces, but rarely place them in a setting. The boy I knew, still can’t remember his name, was chain smoking a bag of tobacco. He’d scooped it out, roll a cigarette in seconds and puff away. His skin appeared to be boiling from the inside out. It was amazing he had teeth.. More

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