Your cock was warm, soft, sleeping beneath the fold of your hairy belly. This was a part of you that I had never known before, your body.

We all are made of these things, body, mind, heart, but some of us live distinctly in one or another, the strongest part winning the lead role of our being. Being professional requires it, really, relying on the mind, perhaps a nod here and there to our bodies when they are sick, to our hearts when they are filled beyond capacity. But just a nod, not this.

The erotic can be distilled, too. It can be reduced into a play on words, an exercise of words on a page, a network of thoughts and theories, so intriguing, so beguiling, so utterly irresistible, but neatly contained within the confines of the mind. We spoke of semiotics, theories, tropes, games of the text. It was clever, intellectual, civilized.

Alone in the PQ section, I could feel my heart pounding in the dark silence, Alcools, Lettres à Lou, cent vingt journées, ou plus bas, si bon te semble, my panties drenched, thrill in the stacks, my dream, my desire, my fermented mind ceding to body then heart then back to mind again. I never told you, of course, but you knew that urge to read, to write, to wonder. You were my mentor.

Your cock was a squishy toy. Did you want it to jump, to squeak, for me to pet it, draw it from its warm nest? Would it grow, a monolith to what you wanted from me? You took my hand, placed it there, and your cock twitched, still soft, comfy I guess, or disabled by my recoiling. We drove a little, and you saw clearly. No brush, no lather, no rub-in. I sat in sadness, the twinkling beyond the windshield, thousands of little dreams just shattered there on the side of the road.

I had passed by so many times without noticing. The pause that refreshes. Mmm, mmm, good. Just Do It. Reach out and touch someone. So obvious, but a blur to me speeding by, flying, expecting the real thing, the lucidity of your mind to guide me. You would ride me, years ago, miles away, a flat, a missed exit, a bump in the road, a wreck, whiplash, and now, this.

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