“You think maybe I am gay?”
This is not the question Marius keeps asking me but it’s close. No, what he usually asks is something like:
“This erection, is normal, no?”
Meaning, his erection with me, at the drop of a hat, on the stroke of a shoulder, or a kiss on the neck.
“But I like the girls.”
Beyond the fact that I simply don’t care, and that "liking . . .
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