1642734778_punk-57-pdf

I lick my lips, feeling the warm metal graze my tongue.
Misha.
But then I blink awake, my room coming into view and the fog in my
head slowly clearing. Misha? I was kissing Masen in my dream. Why did I
call him Misha?
Damn. I take my pillow out from under my head and cover my face
with it. I’m a mess. I’d fantasized about Misha before, in one of my kinky
alternate realities where he writes me dirty letters and finally sneaks into
my room, and that’s the first time I meet him, when he’s sliding into me.
But he never has a face. I always got the impression he was tall and
dark, though, but I never knew for sure. I guess after everything last night,
and how this new guy is in my head now, my brain made a connection.
My fantasies finally found Misha a face.
Taking the pillow off my head, I drop it to the side, yesterday’s events
playing in my mind. I bring up my hand, twisting it around to see the