#35898 - He tastes like beer and cigarettes, his body smells like the manly cologne, and I am as soft as butter in his arms. He is so very tall, six maybe seven inches taller than me, it makes me feel like I’m a child. This was to be the last evening before we squeezed our golden, still somewhat burnt selves into a beetle convertible and headed for London, returning to our studies and part-time jobs, interviews and panic-stricken attempts to scrape enough dosh for the obscenely high apartment rent, which we dutifully shared between the four of us.
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