i eat grapes while i stare at the grapes and wine is made from grapes and talk of fisting and the anatomy of the anal cavity and then they bring the rope out and soon someone is being tied intricately to my bedroom wall and a fifteen foot whip is thrown in my living room a beautiful red leather one and the sound of the cracks mixed with the song French Kiss and i tell the girls how i used to masturbate to it especially the part when the woman starts moaning well really only that part because that’s about all i had to work with back then and a marzipan is placed inside of her mouth which is open wide by the force and tie of the rope and i ask to be whipped to see how it tastes and she obliges and short tiny bites snap again and again until i yell out and time travels in glowing hazes across the night and the house smells of scented candles and by the end i walk in and she has her shirt off and two others sit on top as if she is a park bench and i tell her nice tits. at yoga i keep smelling ball sack or the underneath of cock that sweaty musty pungent odor that only these body parts can exude and wonder if it’s my mat and this breaks my concentration and i watch sweat droplets fall onto it and lick my upper lip hoping to taste salt which reminds me of teenage years and my boyfriend’s neck and into plank then cobra and back to downward facing dog and i smell it again and sniff harder and later on the train i get up from my seat one stop too early and look down to see wet ass cheek marks on the blue plastic and i am almost embarrassed until a man sits right on it and covers my tracks and i wonder if he’s the sort to get up for women and children and decide no and feel somewhat justified that his jeans now hold my work out drip and raindrops keep fallin on my head…