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May 19, 2006
He's huffing and puffing as if he's a cigarette-smoking asthmatic who just ran a marathon at top speed. His chest heaves onto mine, threatening to crush my ribcage with each labored breath. The entire length of his exhausted body covers mine on the bed. Doesn't he realize that, at 170 pounds, he weighs about 150% as much as I do? How would he like a 255-pound beast atop him?

Meanwhile, my heartbeat has barely accelerated, I'm dry as a bone, and, when I'm not thinking, "Jesus Christ, get the fuck OFF me!-, all I can think is, "So. That's it?-