Yes. Your boy. I say “boy” because he’s 12 years my junior. I know right? Damn. But he’s perfect for you ’cause…..well….
…..’cause you’re still a girl.
But I don’t want your boy. I never wanted him. Except for the nights he helped me wet my sheets. Those late night trysts, when I’d leave the door open for him and he’d slide right in. Literally.
Your boy was anxious. He made me anxious. He was excited, always eager to please. That in turn made me excited, made ME eager to please. Therefore, these trysts never lasted long. Ten minutes tops. And then off he went, sneaking back out into the night.
I remember details. And don’t worry your pretty little head. This was before you. This was before you conquered him with your sweetness. Ironic. That was my pet name for him. “Sweetness”. ‘Cause he was oh so damn sweet. Well, at least that’s what I thought those couple of times when I let him bust up in my….
….you get the picture.
I ain’t had no sweetness baby. Never did. Except for maybe what I’ve got in between these thighs. Which explains why he kept coming back. All I ever did was sexify every situation we were in. And his confident, cocky-ass swagger knew how to handle my attitude. Eventually we had to test it out of course, see if this talk we talked could be overcome in bed.
We found out soon enough. The age barrier? It was no damn thing. This was purely sex. Sex based on primal attraction, lust. I needed to know how well he could work this. And man oh man did he ever work it.
He pulled at my heart strings for a while. We had to act friendly in a crowd, acting like sparks weren’t flying above everyone’s heads. They were dumb. Or we were just that damn great at keeping it under wraps.
And then he told me about you. And I was happy. Genuinely happy. I knew that if we continued our forbidden “love”, someone would have been hurt. I’m glad you got him. I hope you enjoy his kisses as much as I did.
His mouth. You notice that perfect little “v” over his top lip? How full his lips are? How he bites his lower lip almost absent-mindedly? Maybe it’s just me…..
He’s sexy. And he didn’t even know it. But I just kept drilling, “You’re so sexy” into his head, all while he continued his drilling into…..
It’s no competition baby girl. You’re a perfect match. He loves you and I can see this. You can continue your perfect little life of coupledom. I just wanted you to know….
…..your boy was mine.
But I have a problem. And I think it’s something only I can fix….
…….he text me last night……
2 thoughts on “Your Boy Is Mine.”
This was great! Metaphoric the words are intoxicating yet very revealing. I could imagine myself being that man… The imagery is above influential sexology, which gives a doxology that makes one’s mind dream again..
This was really good.