The chef sat dwarfing over his red couch tending the unsatisfactory image that gave route to his thoughts. He stood up, paced the warmed red wood floo...s. He seemed to trapeze from one paradox of activity to another, skipping over the pause of stillness. He stopped the rusticity of his movements, trying to focus on a sound coming from the house closest to his. It was poetry and seduction and light and peace and every other contradiction to his world. At the first slow stroke, the crescendo. I laid down on her bed and was breathing hard while she removed my clothes. I don’t know why but for some reason I couldn’t move. I was in a sort of catatonic state as I lay there with my eyes closed and breathing heavy from the tremendous blow job she had given me. She was all business at this point and removed my clothing like she was ripping open a Christmas present. When I was naked, I was still laying there with my eyes closed and I felt her naked body on top of mine as we embraced in a. More

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