His huge, pumping body above me; his fat, red face. His breath next to my ear, his hands where I don’t want them to be. Wandering, touching, squeezing, with no skill at all.

Forbidden fruits are the ones that taste the sweetest.
The price of keeping a secret.

My pale hands on his sweating back, touching, wandering, driving wild. Disguising a shiver as passion. Hiding the disgust.
The price of keeping a secret can be so very high.

Come, dear Reverend, come to me. I will show you what you were never supposed to see.

Heaven’s just a sin away.