David Mac

Imagining Something In Her Mouth

‘I’ve had all shapes and sizes,’
she said.
‘Of dicks?’ I asked.
‘No. Of pasta,’ she replied.
‘Oh, I thought you meant dicks,’
I told her. ‘Are you sure you
didn’t mean dicks?’
‘Why would I mean dicks?’
she sneered. ‘I was
talking about the menu.’
‘The dick menu?’ I said.
‘No, the menu. We are in an
Italian restaurant.’
I looked about: ‘Oh yeah.’

My mind was always
some place else when
I was with her.

 

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