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Basement Heart by Samantha Tkac

Ruth wanted three-hundred pounds of flesh piled on top of her pelvis. She wanted suffocation of the genitals. Suffocation of the face. She was sick, so sick of all the talking. There was nothing wrong with Chad in the bedroom, nothing at all. Every fuck was the same pattern of contraction and relaxation, veins tightening and tendons flexing until everything collapsed and sex was over.
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