Saliva Life - A Poem

Simone was a licker. 
'It's NOT a sexual thing' she would swiftly have to say, whenever the topic was raised.
As it turned out men often hear 'lick' and automatically think of their 'dick'.
Simone hated this. 
Her licking things was an obsessive compulsive affliction.
She'd been licking hundreds of things a day since she was a little girl.
She'd licked everything from train seats, light posts, food packaging, zoo animals, sporting equipment, newspapers, telephones, cruise ships, knitting needles, to restaurant menus and even vases!!! 
Sometimes vases that didn't even have bloody flowers in them.
It was a serious issue. 
She HAD to lick things or else she'd have panic attacks and break downs, and sometimes if she hadn't licked something new for a few hours the desire would bubble into such a frenzy that she'd find herself going on lick binges that could last days on end.
And leave her mouth dry.
Like super dry.
At least TWO glasses of water needed to rectify the situation dry.
It was the worst aspect of her life.
She felt vulnerable wherever she went.
And these animals and their dirty minds often made her feel like a freak. 
Those bastards. 
They were worse than the need to lick itself. 
She thought it was a situation with literally no upside.
However, unbeknownst to Simone, on at least a dozen occasions, men getting lost in their lustful hallucinations, saved her from purchasing expensive and unwanted white-goods in shops with staunch and unwavering storewide 'you lick it you buy it' policies. 

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