All Desperate. No Housewife.


You came here to fuck me. Don’t you forget that.

You’re the best sex of my life, and you’re very sweet. But a heart emoticon on Whatsapp is the closest thing we’ll be to lovers.

I’ve never been this comfortable with a guy before, and nothing you do seems to turn me off. Not even when you tell me you’ve fucked that pop star.

But there’s no time to catch feelings.

Let’s keep it simple.

You’re a phone call and a lube bottle away.

Why risk screwing things up?

We’re in my bedroom. Chest to chest. Slow dancing to Del Rey. And it hits me: “this boy is falling”.

I feel bad, until you’re inside me. I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Maybe in an alternate universe we’re seeing where this goes. But right here, right now… is not a normal situation.

The door’s locked and my parents are in the other room. Don’t you forget that.

You’re the best. And I mean it.

You’re my boy. Just not the only one.

Plus, let’s be honest… you don’t make it easy to fall for you. You’re still new to this thing, and you won’t even add me on Facebook.

It would never work, and 8AM traffic is the only drama I can handle right now.

I promise I’ll wake up next to you. But I can’t promise you’ll be the one I leave with on a Friday night.

Now, put your heart aside and wear your cock on your sleeve instead. We’ve only got 20 minutes.

Dirty sheets and condom wrappers on the floor. That’s the only altar we’ll ever walk on.

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