Hey everyone,
Kinkyleejellybean here. Hope everyone’s staying safe, staying indoors with this coronavirus in the world. This damn virus is such a cockblocker.
I’ve written so much about my adventures, and I forgot the one that started it all. My artist.
I guess I’ve never really gotten to write about him before because he’s really different. All my stories have been based on my carnal instinct to fuck men, to fulfill my desires. With the exception of C, who I had a really minuscule feeling for, W, who I had an affair with for 5 months, by opening my world with psychedelics, and S who ignited a feeling i forgot existed in me, I fell *in love* with my artist.
I was 23, he was 22. It was the year 2013. I met the artist at work. He was in my department. Every time I saw him, he made me smile. We spoke about everything and anything. He just made me happy, for a brief time it was. I have no regrets. It was one of those things, the right person at the wrong time. Like really, *universe*, really?!?!