Status Updates From They're All Named Poppy

Dana clenches her jaw. Roland is a lovely man. And she'd rather chew aluminum foil than let him touch her again. Probably.

At first his mouth barely brushes hers. Dana is wary. Most men are utterly terrible at kissing. So much that she avoids this oral activity whenever possible. The moisture levels, the crushing pressure, the race to cram the greatest length of tongue muscle down her esophagus as aggressively as possible.

"How did Louise lose her foot?"
"Childbirth."
"Having a baby, or when she was a baby?"
Ben shrugs. "No one knows."

On an idly curious Sunday afternoon, she hooked up with one of those elderly penii, and while the staff was not exactly mighty, he was an undeniable wizard in bed. That octogenarian went down on her like he just about invented it. If she could ever be with the same man more than once, it would be Gandalf the Grey.