Date: Wed, 2 Apr 2014 23:23:03 -0400
From: Mads van Duessen <madsvand@gmail.com>
Subject: Gym Stretch 14

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Part 14 – Gym Stretch

Strangely, Jack and I both stepped it down a notch during dessert.  Maybe
it was knowing we'd be home soon enough and sweaty and dirty and indulging
each others' filthy carnal whims.  Whatever it was that caused the mood to
go from urgent to indulgent, it was an amazing moment.

We were waiting for the dessert when Jack took my hand and just gently
rubbed it with his thumb and gazed at me across the table.  His beautiful
light brown eyes shone golden in the gentle light of the restaurant dining
room.  I found myself getting lost in them.  His smile was equally
intoxicating – not the nasty smile full of filthy intent which I loved
so much or even the joyful smile he loosed when I made him laugh – this
was more of a contented smile, like he had everything he wanted.  And it
was clear that was me.

Somewhere inside me a part of me bucked the notion that I could be what any
man wanted for anything other than a fuck.  Most of me knew I was great for
that and nothing else when it came to a man's needs for another man.  I'd
certainly proved that often enough in my life – every attempt at a
relationship had either crashed and burned at my doing or simply because I
wasn't worthy, and he left me behind for better.  Jack had to fall
somewhere in that continuum.

And yet, he was smart and sensible and grounded, and he saw inside me and
still wanted ME.  Maybe . .

"Very deep thoughts, Mads," his rich voice observed.

I squeezed his hand tight, but I couldn't find any words.  And then, to my
absolute horror, I felt a tear forming in my eye – several actually.

Jack was on his feet and came to my side and knelt and had his hand on my
face, gently wiping the tears with his thumbs.  "Hey, Mads.  What's this?"

I really DON'T cry . . . ever!  This was beyond my comprehension.  I tried
to get up – so I could run – but Jack enveloped me in his arms and
just held me there and quietly said, "I've got you," a few times as he held
me tight.

When I'd calmed enough – and was beyond embarrassment – he kissed me
firmly.  "You're mine, Mads.  So that means I'm responsible for you, and I
have to make sure you're only happy, not sad or unsure."

"Then take me home and fuck me!" I retorted decisively.  It was always my
fallback, always the place I was most comfortable.

Jack chuckled.  "Oh, I certainly am going to do that!  You honestly think
now that you've got me aDICKted to you that I could not?"

I loved the inflection.  We were in territory I could navigate now.  "So
then what the fuck are you waiting for?" I teased.

Jack kissed me again and then caressed my face as he backed away to his
place at the table and sat down.  "You really don't get it, do you?" he
asked, his eyes boring a hole into mine.

He'd put his hand out across the table, but I hadn't taken it yet.  I
wanted to.  I wanted the comfort and warmth and promise and excitement of
his touch, of his grip.  But I couldn't move my arm.  I wanted that almost
as much as I wanted him to throw me over his shoulder and carry me out so
he could throw me down and fuck me again.  But at the same time as I was
wanting that – craving the contact with him – I was paralyzed in my
position.

Jack, again, was in my head.  "It's easy, Mads.  It's all here for you.
Just take my hand as a start, and the rest will follow."  He said it
softly, but as if he was reading my thoughts, and his gaze was intense.

The waiter appeared, and I thought that would break the moment, but Jack's
intent gaze didn't waver.  I didn't think he even knew the waiter was there
until he thanked him after he laid the coffee and dessert.  I was
conflicted, confused by the dual track of the uncertainties in my head and
my usual escape path not working and on the other side was Jack's
certainty, unwavering.

I finally took a breath and FORCED my arm to move and CLASPED Jack's hand
in mine . . . TIGHT.

Jack's intense gaze went to a beaming smile, and its warmth radiated
through me.  I gripped his hand tighter.  "Jack, I—"

"Hey, Mads, no words, not right now."  He squeezed my hand back tightly.
"THIS, right now, this is you and me, and this is what it's going to be.
Whatever worries, uncertainties, past experiences, all of that, we have
time to talk through and exorcise . . . both of ours, actually."  The last
was said lower, almost trailing as an afterthought . . . or maybe it was
too daunting to Jack to continue.  Maybe Jack had some of his own ghosts in
his past, too.

His smile returned after only a momentary interruption, and I found myself
smiling, too.  I had no idea what the future would bring for us, but I did
know that the second we were through eating he'd take me home and fuck my
brains out, and THAT was enough of a future to make me gobble through my
dessert.

For Jack's part, he took two mouthfuls of his dessert and put down his
spoon.  In about the same time I had not only cleared my plate, but I'd
scraped it with my fork to ensure I got every edible piece.  I'd have
licked the plate if I thought there was enough left.  The dessert was that
good.  But also the promise of what was to come was that good.

I'm not much of a coffee drinker at meals – coffee for me is more about
a prop or something at work or a morning get-going drink occasionally –
so I drank some, enjoyed that it was VERY good, not like the popular bitter
Starbucks blends, and then pushed my cup away.  I waggled my eyebrows at
Jack.  "Ready for the BEST part of this meal, big boy?"

Jack just threw his head back and laughed.  "Oh, yeah, I definitely am
ready!"

We somehow decided tacitly to go to my place, which was fine with me.

I remember having many different, mostly conflicting, thoughts as we paid
up, left the restaurant and walked back.  Jack didn't push me about my
issues or what had led me to that low point.  He made it very easy for me
to be wrapped up in it inside me without having to expose it.  I needed to
get my footing squared again after my mini-meltdown in the restaurant.  The
one thing I knew for certain was, when I had him naked, I WAS good enough,
I AM good enough or better than any other guy he might fuck.  That's an
area I have no insecurities about.  Relationships, being a boyfriend, being
a worthwhile partner, that stuff is way outside my wheelhouse, and don't I
know it.

When we were going up the stairs – which I was glad Jack preferred to
the elevator, like I did – Jack grabbed me at one point between the
fourth and fifth floors and pulled me to him.  I thought he was going to
kiss me, but instead he put his lips next to my ear and said softly, "If
you think you're sore already, you just wait until I'm done with you when
we get upstairs!" and swatted my firm bubble buttcheek and then groped it.

Not to be outdone, I grabbed his half-hard cock and his balls in a big
handful through his slacks and squeezed.  "You better keep that promise!" I
taunted him right back, and I gave him a stronger squeeze in my grip which
made him yelp.  And then, to my surprise, in flash Jack had crouched down
and got me slung over his shoulder and was headed on up to my floor.

I was squealing like a little girl – I admit it – but it was from the
surprise and also from the joyful excitement of it.  And Jack hammed it up,
beating his chest and growling as he effortlessly carried me up the stairs.
When we got to the door for my floor he turned me so that my hand was by
the touchpad for the lock.

"What makes you think I'll just let you inside, you big brute?" I hammed.

"Oh, I'll be INside," he growled.  "The question is: will we be here in the
stairwell when I'm INside you or inside your apartment.  But make no
mistake – I'll be INside you!"

My entire body went aflame with desire.  I fumbled the electronic pad twice
before I got the code entered to get into the hall, and then when we got to
my door I was reaching out, trying to get to my own electronic door lock.

Jack kept pulling me back just far enough that I couldn't get to the keypad
and laughing . . . until I took another handful of his balls and the root
of his now-fully-hard cock and gave him a very forceful squeeze.  "OK, ok,"
he laughed and put me within reach of the keypad for my door.  "I need to
have my equipment working, or we'll have entirely missed the point here."

The lock clicked and I pushed the door, and he headed toward the hall to my
bedroom.  "FUCK THAT!" I yelled at him.  "HERE!  NOW!" I ordered.

Jack didn't need to be told twice.  He swung me down in the hall and
immediately started to pull my shirt off as I was unbuckling my belt and
unbuttoning my pants.  I pushed him away roughly.  "Fuck ALL OF THAT!" I
growled.  As my pants went to my ankles, I turned to the wall and planted
my feet well apart, my ass out, my hands flat against the wall.  "Do I have
to draw you a plan, stud?" I teased him, wagging my ass at him.

Again, Jack fell in line.  In fact, he opened his belt and pants, got his
cock out and spit on it and then spit on my hole and then SHOVED into me.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
I yelled, but it was exactly what I wanted.  "TAKE ME, FUCKER!" I yelled
when I'd caught my breath.

Jack did . . . forcefully pounding into me hard and deep and fast, one hand
clenched around my neck holding my head back so he could spit in my mouth
and kiss me, his other hand clenching my waist tight as he slammed into me
over and over again.

I was seeing stars from the get-go.  First from the pain, then from the
overwhelming pleasure that hit me like a tsunami and knocked me out of any
conscious thought or control.  I was shoving my ass back into his thrusts
as hard as I could, gyrating with each shove and feeling showers of sparks
fly through me every time Jack's huge cockhead nailed my prostate.

"This is what you want, isn't it?" he growled.  "You want to be fucked like
a bitch in an alley, mercilessly, just used, don't you?"

OH FUCK – yes I did!  That's EXACTLY what I wanted.  To be Jack's bitch.
To bitch my fuckhole to him for his use and pleasure.  But goddammit it was
pleasurable for me, too, as my entire inner self seemed to be swirling and
skyrocketing with every thrust.

"TELL ME!" he screamed, and his pounding became even harder, driving into
me with such force that it was difficult to keep my footing, even in that
well-leveraged position.

"I FUCKING WANT IT!" I yelled . . . and goddamnit I did!

"TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT, BITCH!" he shouted, wrenching my head back so he
was partially strangling me.

"I.  WANT.  YOU.  TO.  USE.  ME." I choked and gurgled.  For emphasis, and
I really was beginning to feel like I might just choke to death, I added,
"MAKE.  ME.  YOURS!"

At that, Jack growled long and low and then jammed himself deeper inside me
and began to blast his warm creamy load deep inside me.  And although I
remember that, I only remember that my own world exploded, and my own balls
were exploding and then . . .

We were in a heap on the floor of my hallway.  Jack's arms were around me,
my feet were still in my slacks, Jack's clothes were still on, but I could
feel his mostly-soft cock against my lower back where I sat between his
legs.  I had no idea how we'd got there.  I had no control over my body
whatsoever.  I was limp of muscle, but my entire body was tingling and hot.

Jack's chest heaved against my back, and I realized my breathing was heavy
and fast, too.  I put all my concentration into moving my left arm, which
dangled over his left leg onto the floor, and I was able to barely move it
so that my hand was against his leg.  In response Jack's arms around my
torso pulled me tighter against him.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked, barely a whisper between panting
breaths.

When I didn't answer – because moving my hand had apparently been the
limit of my control over my body – he kissed my neck aggressively.  "You
ARE ok with that, Mads, right?  You seemed to like it."

I was overcome with the idiocy of the statement, and I just let loose
laughing.  I didn't so much feel myself laughing as knew I was laughing,
and my thoughts were laughs.

"That's either good for me or very bad," Jack said.

I forced myself to speak.  "It—" I started and then worked on the next
word.  "Amazing," I got out.

Jack held me tight and kissed the side of my neck and nuzzled the back of
my sweaty head.  "I want to say `I'm sorry' but I'm so NOT!" he said at
length, and that caused me to laugh again.

I grasped with my left hand on his leg, and I found I was regaining enough
control that I pushed back into him harder than he was holding me already.
Haltingly, still panting, I said, "Jack, if you EVER apologize to me for
fucking me senseless, I swear to you that it'll be the last time you fuck
me!"  Then I patted his leg and tried to get up.

Unfortunately the return of motor skills was not accompanied by
equilibrium.  When I tried to get up into a crouch to get up, I ended up
toppling forward onto the floor by Jack's outstretched feet.  The laughter
started again.  "Nice shoes," I choked out.

Jack laughed and got up.  "I'd offer to pick you up and carry you, but that
had unintended consequences last time," he laughed, putting his hand down
for me to take to get up.

I looked up at him, enjoying the sight of his big cock hanging out of his
zipper.  I lasciviously licked my lips.  With a wicked grin, looking up at
him, I replied, "If that's what happens when you pick me up and carry me,
then I want you carrying me OFTEN!"

His cock jumped at that, which caught my eye.  I reached up with one hand
and clasped his wrist and hand, but with my other hand I reached up and
grabbed his beautiful slimey cock.  Jack jumped when I had hold of him, but
he continued to pull me to my feet.

When we were eye to eye I began rubbing his cock, feeling it respond and
seeing his eyes go narrow as he enjoyed my touch.  His grip on my hand was
unnecessary, but he didn't let go.  And I didn't stop stroking him.  When
his eyes were fully closed, still keeping our hand-to-wrist grip tight, I
got on my knees and took his cock fully into my mouth.

"FFFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" he gasped,
and his other hand went to my head and grasped it tightly.

I loved the taste of him, of us together, our sex, his cock, my ass, every
aspect of it, smell, taste, texture of the slime on his cock.  I maintained
my grip on him but with my free hand I managed to push his pants off his
hips and down enough to wrestle his big balls out the fly of his boxer
briefs and began working them as I sucked and licked that big fuckrod of
his that I loved so much.

"AAAAAHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
goooooooddddddddddddddddddddddddd," he moaned, and it stoked my need to
pleasure him.

I went to work in earnest, alternating sucking his cock and massaging his
balls with licking and sucking his balls and stroking his cock, more and
more aggressively.  I felt his cock, hard and throbbing, and tasted his
bursts of precum, now flowing readily.

"Mads, you—" Jack started, but he stopped when I gripped his balls
TIGHT, making it clear that I was doing exactly what I intended to do.

I worked his cock faster and sucked harder and rubbed his balls more
aggressively, stoked, needy, determined.  I was gripping his hand and wrist
HARD, though I didn't realize how tight my grip was before it was over.
While I was doing it, it was all about having more of MY man, giving him
more pleasure, moving it to the point where MY man lost control again.

Jack's grip on my head went from steadying to forceful.  He was
skull-fucking me hard and fast and throwing a continuous stream of "OH
FUCK"s and "FUCK YEAH"s and "SUCK THAT FUCKING COCK"s as he brutalized my
throat with his engorged cockhead.

For me it was heaven, and I was sucking and taking and struggling and
surviving and knowing that MY man was on the verge of . . . .

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"
Jack shouted and SHOVED his cock down my throat, probably breaking my nose
when it shoved into his pubes.  I felt his enormous cock thicker and hard
as steel, throbbing and beginning to blast his seed – again – this
time down my throat.

I gulped and slurped and choked and basically coped, but dammit I didn't
waste a drop of his cum, even when I was choking on his cock and load.
"FUCKING CHRISSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTT, MADS!" Jack said, suddenly SHOVING me off
his cock.

Licking my lips I looked up at Jack and grinned, again wickedly.  "That was
fucking hot, Jack," I said, smacking my lips to emphasize my enjoyment.
"That was better than any crθme brulee or any other pastry chef's
concoction!" I smirked.

Without missing a beat, Jack pulled me up by our continued grip at our
wrists.  "Well, I'm assuming you haven't tried EVERY pastry chef to know
how good his conCOCKtions are?" he smirked back.

I gave him a good kiss on his lips for that.  "Well, I will stand on my
statement and allow you to draw your own conclusion."  I turned and almost
fell on my ass because my feet were still in my pants.  If it hadn't been
for our wrist grip, I would have.

"Easy, there," Jack said, holding me steady while I grappled with my pants,
pulling them up enough to button them.

"I need some water.  And you must – you've got to be more dehydrated
than I am," I said, heading toward the kitchen.

"I'm definitely something," Jack said, following me.

I grabbed bottles of water from the fridge and turned and handed Jack one,
holding onto it when he gripped it.  "You're a stud, Jack, that's what you
are," I said, holding the water bottle another beat.  Jack's grin was my
reward.

After he'd downed half the large bottle of water, he turned to me, serious.
"IF I'm a stud, I'm YOUR stud, Mads."  I'm sure I blushed, but I know I
looked down, away from him at least.  "Either way," he continued, "You
certainly MAKE me whatever I am, that much I promise you."

"Takes the right stuff to work with, Jack," I said, lamely.

Jack suddenly pulled me into him and held me tight.  "How about," he said
with a kiss to my neck, "We get comfortable and watch a movie and then
. . . well, and then . . . "

I kissed his neck back, and dammit I was becoming addicted to the feel of
his hold and his kisses.  "ANYthing you want, STUD," I said playfully, but
I held him tight.

"Mads," Jack said softly into my neck, holding onto me tight.

I murmured something.

"Would you talk to me about what upset you at dinner?" he asked very
gently.

I'm sure my whole body stiffened.  How could I explain that I knew this was
great and wonderful but would be over as soon as he figured out what a
worthless slut I am and that he could do so much better.  I couldn't stop
myself from sniffing as I sucked up the beginning of another emotional
reaction.

"Hey, hey," he said, holding me tighter.  "Mads, what is it?"

Neither of us moved.  I kept my face buried in his neck, inhaling him,
steadying myself.  Jack kept holding me tight.

It had been a great weekend.  Jack was amazing.  The sex was amazing.  If
this was the end, it would at least be a great memory.  If it was all about
to end in a frank conversation, an acknowledgment of reality, then I guess
that was what was going to happen.

I took a deep breath, and I was about to start, but Jack pulled away and
put his left index finger gently on my lips.  "If you have to take a deep
breath, it's probably something you're giving too much power."

"Either you want me to talk to you, or you don't!" I said, sharper than I'd
intended.

Jack held his ground, held me.  "Fair enough," he said.  "What I meant was
that it's you and me here.  I've still got you, and I'm not letting you
go."  His gaze was intense but his eyes were gentle.  "And remember, Mads,
you've got me, too," he added.

I started to take a breath, and then I decided not to.  Instead I
straightened to my full height, taller than Jack by a few inches.  "Here's
the brutal truth of it," I said.

We were too close for a conversation, but I didn't want to be out of
contact with him.  By the way he was still holding onto me, he didn't,
either.  "I'm ready."

I started to take a big breath again, but Jack was faster and put his hand
flat on my chest.  Even through my shirt his hand was warm, comforting.
"Go easy," he said.

"Do you think it's easy for me to have to say this?" I asked.

"What I think, Mads," he said, gently touching my face, "Is that it is
apparently very difficult having it there but not saying it."

He seemed so cavalier and so certain.  "You know what I am, Jack."

"I do, Mads, and it's time you got it through your head."  I just looked at
him blankly.  "Mads, I am very good at knowing people.  I found you, or you
found me, but now we're here, and I'm sure of us."

"You're sure I'm a great fuck," I yelled unexpectedly.

"You're damn right about that!" Jack yelled back.

We stood there, still close together.  A standoff, yet neither of us was
tensed to fight.

"Are you going to continue?" Jack said, a smile at the corner of his lips.

The fucker was enjoying this.  "I'm not a good person, Jack."

His smile only broadened.  "I don't believe that, Mads," he said through
that now-annoying smile.  "Whatever way you think you're not a good person
is just you being unreasonably hard on yourself."

"I'm a slut.  I'm a nymphomaniac.  I'm not a boyfriend . . . at least not a
good one."  I looked away as I said that.

"Maybe you're looking at this all wrong," he said, and I turned back to see
him still smiling.  "From my side, if the last thirty hours or so is what I
have to look forward to, then I'd say you're my perfect slut, nympho
boyfriend!"

"You don't understand," I asserted.

Jack took me by my upper arms and held me tight, facing him.  "Then MAKE ME
understand!" he ordered.

"I had someone like you once," I cried out suddenly.  "He was the most
awesome person I'd ever met, and we loved each other."

Jack cut in.  "Keep going."

"It was the greatest thing ever.  But one day we had an argument, a very
bad one, and I said things I shouldn't have . . . and he left."

I'd stopped at that point, choked up.  Jack wrapped his arms around me,
there, still standing in my kitchen, when I was on the verge of breaking
down.  I'd got that far, I might as well go the rest of the way.

"Three days later he was still gone, he hadn't answered my calls, and
nobody had heard from him.  All I wanted was for him to come back.  It was
Sunday.  I don't think I'd slept, and I know I hadn't eaten.  A friend from
my baseball team came by because I hadn't showed up for the game.  I was a
mess.  He got me to eat something – some Ramen noodles, if you can
imagine."

I was on a roll by then, and I even chuckled at the Ramen noodles –
every college student's backup meal.  Jack continued listening quietly,
holding me tighter, as if he knew what was coming.

"And then my friend dragged me into a much needed shower."

Jack patted me, like he knew what was coming.  He kept holding me.

"And then, when Buck was fucking my brains out in the shower . . . " I
paused.

Jack just kept holding me.  In fact, he didn't seem to react at all to the
most shameful thing that I've ever done.  I shook suddenly when I was about
to say it.  Jack tightened his grip on me.  "Let it out," he whispered.

I couldn't help it.  The tears came and sobs shook me.  I blurted out the
rest.  "Shane came in while Buck and I were in the shower, fucking."  Then
I couldn't stop crying or talking.

"He'd come back to me to make it up, and there I was being fucked by a guy
I didn't even think about before, but he was THERE, and Shane wasn't.  And
Shane couldn't forgive me, couldn't get past it, especially since the whole
argument we'd had was because he thought I was flirting with a guy.  And I
was flirting with him, but I had no intention of doing anything with him,
it was just cruising and flirting."

Jack held me while I blabbered and cried, and when I ran out of words, I
ran out of sobs.  He held me a bit more, and then he finally spoke.  "How
old were you when that happened?"

"It was the end of my freshman year.  I was eighteen.  Shane and I were
roommates and realized we loved each other.  Or he did until I totally
fucked it up."

"Have you ever actually cheated on a boyfriend, Mads?  Assuming you've had
boyfriends since Shane."

"Never!" I replied with a shout.

Jack gently moved me away from him so we could look at each other.  His
smile was gentle – loving and compassionate.  "How about I take a shot
at this?" he asked but didn't wait for me to respond.  "You were a kid,
twelve or thirteen years ago, and you enjoyed flirting.  You loved your
boyfriend, but he couldn't take the flirting and it ended up in a fight big
enough for him to walk out for several days.  You were bereft because you
not only loved your boyfriend, but you also thought you'd lost him, because
at that age you probably didn't realize that at some point adults talk and
resolve things.  And then someone comes and takes care of you and one thing
leads to another, and you're needy and hurt and your boyfriend picks that
unfortunate time to show up to patch things up and brands you a worthless
slut.  How close am I?"

"Well, when you put it that way," I feebly attempted humor.

"And you've never actually cheated on anyone, ever.  You're highly sexually
active but are true in relationships ever since then.  And because of THAT
you think you're not worthy of a relationship?  I'm going out on a new limb
here, Mads, but I'm guessing it's because all your other relationships have
ended one way or the other?"

"Usually, my boyfriends have cheated on me."

"Well, that then makes all the sense in the world," Jack exclaimed
sarcastically.

"BECAUSE I'm not worth it, Jack.  Because they figure that out," I said,
desperately trying to get my point across.

"Mads," Jack said gently, "THEY weren't worth it.  They didn't cheat on you
because of you; they cheated on you because they're pigs.  You've never
cheated."

I jumped in.  "Except with Buck that time—"

"Mads, you idiot, that wasn't cheating.  At best it was a gray area.  He
was GONE.  He walked out on you.  And besides you were eighteen.  In the
subsequent DECADE plus you've NEVER cheated on ANYone!  And guess what?"

I just looked at him.

"I haven't cheated on a boyfriend since I was a teenager either!"

I continued looking at him, but inside my head pieces were rearranging that
had been in the wrong places for a long time.

"Sounds to me like we're a good bet.  And I know we're a good match."

I smiled, liking Jack's logic.

"And, I think we left things uneven back there in the hall, and I'm willing
to bet that I could even things up here pretty easily," he grinned, putting
one hand down my pants and taking hold of my cock.  "To me that feels like
a much better thing to do than to obsess about CRAP that happened a very
long time ago!  What does it feel like to you?" he asked, gripping my
hardening cock tight enough to make me shiver.

"If I wanted you to, would you throw me over your shoulder again?" I asked
with an evil smirk.

And just like that, I was over Jack's shoulder again, this time headed down
the hall to my bedroom.  Oh, and I had NO intention WHATSOEVER of allowing
him to simply "even things up", as he'd suggested.  No, I had far more in
store, no matter how sore and battered my ass was already!


If you enjoyed yourself reading this and want to send me feedback, it's
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