Lesbians on Ice “You said I am going to do something kind of gross
now to prove to you you’re not a lesbian.” You rubbed
gritty chunks of ice, six months old, against
labia, breathtakingly over clit and raw-tissue hole.
I did not think it gross, but I once went down on
a girl with ice in my mouth; it was beautiful.
Also uncertain. The memory probably didn’t
help your point but I said it anyway,
gaspingly admitted in glamour confession “I am not
a lesbian” though still I did not think it was true.
But the ice took place after you’d
whipped my breasts and thighs and vulnerable
cunt, not long enough, your patience was
wearing thin.  ¶ 3:29 AM