As my more discerning readers will already have noticed, I am - after the incident involving the fish - now more intimate with the Heimlich manoeuvre than I am with cunnilingus.
It doesn’t follow that just because one is severely injured, one doesn’t think about sex. Indeed one might think about sex more.
I might eventually be capable of a little light cunnilingus, and I imagine myself as a man with a mouth full of mango rather than the last image I had of myself, as a desperate man attempting to open a bag of cashew nuts using only his teeth and a brick wall.
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