Fucking first
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
930
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0
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
930
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Fucking first
26th July, 2005 Wednesday.
Am I in love?
I don't know.
I don't know what love is.I don't know if I've ever know.
Or if I ever will know.Scary thoughts.
Is it love that I feel when his mouth touches mine?That makes my heart beat faster when he calls?That I taste on his skin when we fuck?
Is it love that makes me sit quietly on his bed while he argues with his girlfriend over the phone?
Love or weakness?Lack of self respect?
What is love?I need an answer.
He'll do me and leave me and I feel like he's done me a favour when all I've said is 'yes'.But to what?I need a definition.
No,what I need is to stop obsessing and Get A Life.He has one.Maybe too much of one.So much so that he leads two.
And one of them is in the dark with me.
**********************************************************************************************************************************
*******
Ours was a relationship based on hugs and fucking.I made this observation one lazy evening laying in his arms in a pink and gold post coital haze.He ran his fingers up the sensitive hairs of my back in a soft tickle.
'Let's not forget,vodka.'
I giggled at the combined effect of the sensations and words.I always loved his words.They fell from his lips with a careless eloquence and created dancing colour pictures in my mind.
We'd met when I was fifteen at a party he had hosted for my best friend,his cousin,after which we spoke just once over the phone.A year later at a family vacation with the family of the same friend the two of us spent one blurry,vivid night surrounded by empty bottles of orange juice and peach schnapps., unlocking each others deepest fears and darkest scerets in a way that only the alcohol induced can.That night a good man looked at me and I felt like a woman for the first time.
Within two hours he kissed me.
Fifteen minutes later we fled to our separate beds to mull over the discoveries that night had brought to light.Three days later I accepted the kiss he had begun to give me that drunken night.
That was my fucking first.
I was sixteen,he was twenty six.
We connected with each other in beween the constant furous telephone fights he had with his girlfriend.I read books,usually Dahl, sitting on his bed during these.
We celebrated my turning seventeen with a birthday fuck, which I considered my most favourite present that year.As his hot, wet tongue thrust gently into my mouth , his cock nestled against my bare stomach, I realised I was in love with him.
I wanted him to be my fucking only.
Am I in love?
I don't know.
I don't know what love is.I don't know if I've ever know.
Or if I ever will know.Scary thoughts.
Is it love that I feel when his mouth touches mine?That makes my heart beat faster when he calls?That I taste on his skin when we fuck?
Is it love that makes me sit quietly on his bed while he argues with his girlfriend over the phone?
Love or weakness?Lack of self respect?
What is love?I need an answer.
He'll do me and leave me and I feel like he's done me a favour when all I've said is 'yes'.But to what?I need a definition.
No,what I need is to stop obsessing and Get A Life.He has one.Maybe too much of one.So much so that he leads two.
And one of them is in the dark with me.
**********************************************************************************************************************************
*******
Ours was a relationship based on hugs and fucking.I made this observation one lazy evening laying in his arms in a pink and gold post coital haze.He ran his fingers up the sensitive hairs of my back in a soft tickle.
'Let's not forget,vodka.'
I giggled at the combined effect of the sensations and words.I always loved his words.They fell from his lips with a careless eloquence and created dancing colour pictures in my mind.
We'd met when I was fifteen at a party he had hosted for my best friend,his cousin,after which we spoke just once over the phone.A year later at a family vacation with the family of the same friend the two of us spent one blurry,vivid night surrounded by empty bottles of orange juice and peach schnapps., unlocking each others deepest fears and darkest scerets in a way that only the alcohol induced can.That night a good man looked at me and I felt like a woman for the first time.
Within two hours he kissed me.
Fifteen minutes later we fled to our separate beds to mull over the discoveries that night had brought to light.Three days later I accepted the kiss he had begun to give me that drunken night.
That was my fucking first.
I was sixteen,he was twenty six.
We connected with each other in beween the constant furous telephone fights he had with his girlfriend.I read books,usually Dahl, sitting on his bed during these.
We celebrated my turning seventeen with a birthday fuck, which I considered my most favourite present that year.As his hot, wet tongue thrust gently into my mouth , his cock nestled against my bare stomach, I realised I was in love with him.
I wanted him to be my fucking only.