you’ve done it. Okay, it’s an afterthought, a last shout for Valentine’s day. It has something to do certainly with who you’re doing it with, so the “hottest place” could be right in your own bed or a world away right there in it, you know. The baddest place I did it was probably in a car after driving around “commando” in a tiny velvet dress, stopping at a McDonalds and for whatever reason, or no reason at all, my mate and I had stolen a very heavy decorative rock from a condo building and then basically went about it on the front seat. We drove home with the boulder in the back seat- to put this in perspective- I couldn’t even lift the thing, at ALL. It was deposited in my apartment and I had no control over it.
It was hot, but not the hottest- that title being reserved and scrutinized over several instances with my current lover- it’s hard to decide… love is a curious factor- the intesity of which seems to diminish all previous encounters.
