She was happiest there too, and trying to relocate to happiness had a futile ring to it, but she no longer cared for misery either. A woman can’t si...ply be happy. A woman can’t search for it either. For her happiness either just came or didn’t no matter where she went. Such was the female poet’s dilemma. While she pushed herself to greater heights, there was always something weighing her down, dragging her below the earth no matter how hard she tried. It seemed to her like an odd paradox—the. “Is that okay?” I asked.“Oh yeah,” she moaned, nodding vigorously.“Really?” I found myself saying, part of me apparently still unable to believe that this was happening.“Oh yeah,” came the reply, “you feel amazing.”“Thanks,” I replied, pathetically, “so do you.”She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me down onto her so I was resting on my elbows. Our bodies and lips pressed together as I thrust in and out of her. It wasn’t long I started to feel the familiar sensations of an orgasm building. More

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