Thongs

— 8-

The hands slipped deftly across my belly, the tongue sank deep into my cunt, the legs contained me, the belly straddled me; he made his best love that night.

But he made it for him, not for me, for there was neither thong nor knife in his hand as he offered love.

If he had offered that, if he had proven love, who knows, I might have changed my desires; what were those desires but the fruits of a disbelief in love? I am alone. The Prince is alone. Miguel is alone. The Prince lies. He tries to tell me that I am not alone. Miguel tells the truth. He tells me that I am.

Miguel, my love, be my executioner!

Finis