Source: (Picture of a male-presenting person wearing a scarf)

His aroma was everywhere. It was on his scarf, which hung neatly by the door. It was in her bed, between her sheets and it was stuck pleasantly in her nostrils.

She hadn’t meant to fall in love. She had only meant to fuck him, in the raunchiest, most untethered sense of the word “fuck.” He had taken her one wild fling and turned out into something… Not cheap… Not at all tawdry.

Fuck! Now what would she do?

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