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Tuesday, April 26, 2022

I’m passing time alone in my room watching Heartstopper for the second time.

I’m imagining a boy I could fall in love with. His rhythm pressed against me. His lips on my neck. Wreck the fear that would have kept me. Timid as he pulls down on my waistband.

I feel his pole slide between my peach, he reaches around and takes hold of me. I’m excited as he aims his tip.

Peach ready for his cream, shaft against flesh as he guides himself in.

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Categories: Fiction poetry short story writing

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jasonwhitaker29171

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