• Three years later, who would of thought, who could of thought. These two girls, so young back then, less tarnished, Ayear later, a texted conversation on Hanson, and piercings. And then, another year later, almost to the week, it started. “I love your hair” “I love you” blah, blah, then words turned into flirting, conversations late into the night. “Your straight aren’t you?” “nah, are you?” the utter thrill, to find that out, of wondering, if there is a chance, of whether that could be. I remember the first time I asked what you were wearing, I wanted to be with you so badly. And since, then, only two months later, there is barely a single second, if that, that goes by where im not thinking about you. Everything about you is perfect, everything about you attracts me. Then Valentines day, Sunday morning, ring the doorbell, her father answers, just points to her bedroom. I go in, trying, trying to be quiet while opening the door. Shes there, shes half awake, still lying on her stomach, she puts out her hand, searching, crawl into bed together, so close. On the bed, kissing, ferociously. Just her holding me, her hands wandering over my skin, mine over hers, It is impossible, to even begin to put into words, the brilliance of being with her, even when were not fucking, lying there, kissing, getting paranoid that the parents would hear. kissing her ears, her stomach, she was so wet. Those breasts of hers, so amazing. Me and her, so perfect. We fit together ,like a puzzle piece. She pulled a muscle, my bad. I want to go into the most explicit detail, although, as soon as I do, my mind wanders off into fantasy, and im back there replaying, over and over in my head, and I cannot put it into words.

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