Something ass-tounding happened in 1996 when I met a man I ultimately lived with for nine years. Early in the relationship, on an unexpected overnight at his place, I got up in the morning and grabbed a clean pair of his briefs from his closet.
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Consider the clavicle.
Clavicles, actually. There are two of them, the darlings, the slender twin horizontal bones forming those small knobs at the...
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