sábado, 7 de noviembre de 2015


I was crying out of pain while he was getting even harder. It was everything I’ve ever wanted. I don’t
know if it’s supposed to be this intense knowing that he’s still inside me. Flashbacks of him moaning, wanting me, calling my name. Being conscious about the fact he is thinking about me right this second. 
I can still taste his sweat and feel his breathing on my neck. The way the night danced with our bodies was evil and ruthless. How am I supposed to be okay with the fact people think they can feel the same way with someone else? I guess I’ll have to keep tasting men in order to understand it was the night that played us that day. That it wasn't you but something else. I keep telling myself the same over and over again. It wasn't him, it was something else.

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