Friday night is tired and easy. He turns me up and on. The desire is almost palpable. We sit in a bar and he tells me some stories and jokes and I watch his lips move, and his eyes flicker, and I look at his hands, and I watch him smoke, and I think about kissing him and whether he wants to kiss me.
Naive, sweet thoughts.
What an error to think in such a way.
We go back to the apartment.
We fuck, its pretty effortless and sweet and visceral. I suck him, he tastes me, we share fluid and fleeting control. its pretty good. Its pretty great. It ignites desire. It begs for more.
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