"Aja," by Steely Dan. First the song starts in my head, and then for days I'll have the entire album playing in there. I don't really mind; it's a good album!
She knows that I visit a site where I talk about sex with some friends, but nothing more specific or detailed than that. It's pretty clear that she doesn't want to know anything about it.
Everything is good as long as hair isn't bursting out from her underwear.
Is this a real question?
No, I prefer my women in Carhart overalls. Or hazmat suits. What kind of a question is this?
Oh hell yes! Also, I use them as training films for how to make love to a woman without using a penis. (Read my profile.)
I have always been curious.
Having an espresso in the Caffé Florian, Piazza San Marco, Venezia. (Or Venice, I suppose.)