At the reminder of him, I want to close my eyes and curl up. Replay that night in the field when he touched me, spoke to me so sweetly and honestly. Before he became the second villain in my story. Someone I dread seeing every day, as much as I crave the brutally beautiful sight of him. At least that’s one thing us poor motherfuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck. If you went out with that punk for a while, you’d eventually give in and come slumming it one night, wouldn’t you? Knock on my trailer door, begging me to ride you right. Should I be ashamed that my body reacted favorably to
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Omg 😳
