His semen tasted salty and warm.
I never took my clothes off, I didn't see the need to. I've refused sex because I hate looking myself in the mirror, much less let some practical stranger, Elijah, ogle at my fat thighs with cellulose. I have stretch marks on my arms and boobs. I'm a different person now. I don't get drunk and find some guy at the bar to go home with me.
But Elijah, he's in the mix of it, connections to about any drug available. (For the record, he doesn't deal with opioids--apparently has some prejudice against opiods, and has expressed to me multiple ptimes that I'm walking down a dangerous road, he put it, "slippery slope.") The fact that Stanford Pain Management sees me every two week for my Tylenol #4 prescription doesn't placate him nor easy his fears.
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