i served you your manhood on a silver platter, teaching you the art of air hockey and race car games. secretly, i thank god for breathing over my shoulder. conveniently, my gas tank is empty.
in the mobil parking lot, i kiss sober for the first time in years.
it is sweet and lucious, until the loudspeaker begrudingly interrupts.
“GET A ROOM!”
can’t blame him. we kiss like flames do.
my upper lip still burns from the thorns of your 5 o’clock shadow.
prick me.
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