BLOWJOB ON A BRIDGE

Paris, France

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BLOWJOB ON A BRIDGE

4PM 
Julie looks at sky. Pale moon is chopped like opaque sliver of thumbnail, billowing against blue. Black crow lands near them; chokes on piece of fuzz, swallows the saliva drenched wad with a gulp. Jeremy fumbles with lock next to Julie. Lock is pink and shiny— frosty metal like crusted winter lips drying in the open air. Joggers warmed path moments before, but now everything around Julie is silent, quiet, still; just the two of them.  
Do you love me? Yes.  
He stands up, brushes knees of pants off. Julie receives his urgent kiss with her lips. His palms flatten roughly against her cheeks, trace up to the crown of her head. Rest there.  
Crow approaches Julie again. Crow chokes on fuzz again. Crow flies away. Or was it a raven? Maybe. Who knows...? 
Julie feels hands push her head down his coat. Geese feathers sewn tightly into warm, down pockets. The outside of the coat is cold against her lips. He presses her face into his crotch.  
Will you keep me warm? Yes. He deserves this. He thinks he gifted her five orgasms hours before, sprawled across her lavender sheets, legs open for him. She owes him this, doesn’t she?  She thinks it is February in Paris. Fingers cold, she pulls down the zipper of his jeans. She reaches through his boxers and takes him in her mouth. Looks up at him, then down again, where he wants. To look like that is too intimate. Julie loves Jeremy. This is love, isn't it? She starts rocking her head back and forth, sucking soft skin with lips. Crow lands next to her.

 
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