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Nathalie Boisard-Beudin posted a blog postPosted on April 30, 2011 at 3:00pm 3 Comments 1 Favorite
The old boathouse smells of dampness, tar and forlorn semen. It was our special place when we courted, if the word can be used for the type of rambunctious shagging we used to indulge in then.
A secret rendez-vous where we would surrender all dignity for a few moments' pleasure, an escape from a vaguely gentil and utterly boring suburban life. It was our nest, our den. Then you got pregnant and refused both me and the child,…
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Robert McEvily said…
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