No Face

My boyfriend has no face. At first I thought it was kind of creepy, having just a mound of flesh where his face should be, but then we got to talking and he’s such an excellent listener. He’s caring and attentive, the strong and silent type. He doesn’t really drink or even eat, for that matter, but he knows how to tango. I have to lead, but he always holds me real close. My boyfriend is not really good at oral, but he’s a master with his fingers, and he knows how to use my toys, too. When we’re cuddling, I love the way he runs his fingers through my hair and how his heart hammers in time with mine. But sometimes… sometimes I wish I could feel the rise and fall of his breaths or the flutter of his eyelashes on my cheeks. I miss that feeling sometimes.


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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XXII

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