Hey, new arrivals, first off, welcome. Second, we play a silly game in which we substitute the letters of ordinary words for those asterisked out because they're not suitable for all AW members. So f*** has to start with f and be four letters long.
This one's impossible for me to turn into something else, but I'm not really good at this. (Coddiwomple, who I haven't seen in a while, is a master at it.)
"Well, what the frog was that?" Meh.
My last line yesterday: “Charlie always took care of it.” Abruptly, I missed him. I hadn’t appreciated the things he did for us, just resented what he didn’t, like remain faithful.
That night, checking my email using the house’s internet signal on the darkened patio, I heard an irregular creaking noise that became regular before Petra’s “Yes, yes, oh God…” The sound sped up and held the faster pace. Their bedroom window was open, and I left as quietly as I could.
Wyatt breaks two eggs into the melted butter before he replies. “That’s why I can have a biscuit on the side. Store-bought, okay but nothin’ special. Smother it with peach jam and I might even finish it.”
She told me she was throwing me out and I said she couldn’t, because I was leaving. "Best decision I ever made." It was such a fine decision I spent the night in my car, shivering, and called in at work so I could bring her roses I couldn’t afford.
“You said, Nice titties. To my boss!” The swats rain down, hard and steady. The time for talking is through. This is the time to squirm and flinch, to have my leg fall from her lap, to gasp and moan, to escalate to a single half-swallowed yelp and finally to, “Stop, please stop, you have to stop!”
But I don't say my real stop word, so she doesn’t.