Dim prisons and Drakes

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I was in an honest to gods four post bed; I didn't recognize the wood grain. I also didn't recognize the hand fondling the wood grain. Or the hand with which I reached out to that first hand, though both were my own. They were both small, delicate, hairless and a pale white.

Last night they were larger, callused, and a healthy nut brown color.

Dim prisons and Drakes


by
Nagrij