I suppose somewhere in this world, there’s an airport. A hollow, shelled husk of what I’d refer to as an airport. Maybe my friends still exist in ...ome way. Maybe they exist beyond the weakening memories. Do they remember me? Am I just a weak, rough memory for their minds to ponder over, as well? Am I just a wilted, discarded husk in a long since abandoned airport? Sometimes I worry that I’ll never fly again. Sometimes I worry that the clouds will always waltz so high above me, their only. He kept at it until I was chanting his name in time with his tender ministrations on my clitoris, and then all of a sudden he stopped. ‘Doug?’ I pleaded. As I was trembling with the need for one final completion, I felt him climb up beside me, flicking one nipple with his tongue as he passed. ‘Roll over,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘On your tummy Sarah. Roll over.’ I complied, my brain foggy with desire and wine. He tugged me up until I was kneeling on the bed. I felt his weight shift, and. More

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