I slowly released his hand and lay there exhausted. He was trying to play with my breasts again and I felt him move closer to me. My mind was in a whi...lpool. I had reached two orgasms in such short succession that my head was still spinning. At the back of my mind I started feeling guilty about using him. It was then I felt him rubbing himself on my thighs. It was his manhood. I pushed my guilt aside and made my third mistake. I put my hands on his cock over his shorts and I felt it respond to. He was my life partner, for better or worse. My thankfully sexless life partner. We eventually moved to a bigger apartment so we each had our own rooms. Mario became a kitchen manager, too. I had began writing again and began to submit my work to literary journals. After seven months of submissions, going freaking broke paying the submission fees, I finally got an acceptance letter from a journal called ‘Otis Nebula.’ You don’t get rich as a poet. In fact, it’s more likely to create poverty. More

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