Is it a safe room?
(Caveat — that I am able to keep in mind, which I’m notorious for maybe perhaps not doing). We ended up being… enough years old, as well as for some reason why evening, once I lay my head that is weary upon pillow, we drifted into slumber susceptible to some X-rated thoughts about… Robbie Williams.
Yes, the bawdy, slick-haired, ‘00s British crooner — “I’m loving angels instead” and all sorts of that — had been the main topic of my first and just sex dream. I don’t also like Robbie Williams that much. He’s maybe not, like, my man. I don’t understand what strange, topsy-turvy annals of my head called forth their face and in addition, um, their human anatomy into my fantasies that as if summoned by the horn of Gondor itself evening.