Her short skirts made me curious just like tight pants did. There is nothing but tension between a pretty face and a crotch. I remember that feeling better than the details of our first meeting. I liked her right away. It wasn't long before I couldn't stand being away from her. Before I was desperate for her. There was no resistance, no hesitation, none of that queasy sense of the other's fear that boys generate when I get too close. She was willing. We talked like neurotics in therapy and fucked like machines.
Syndicate content