Bringing Out a New Detective

Him

"Honey, it's time for supper!" 

I shut my shiny laptop, covering a world of unique pleasures within. I went downstairs, sitting down and receiving my dinner. My mother sat beside me. We're having sushi again tonight. I glare at the soy sauce, wearing my best poker face. I watched the brown shades of the sauce dance around in the miniature bowl, reminding me of the hidden pleasures I had seen just minutes before. 

I wanted to share this with someone, this feeling wanting to break free. I didn't know who, until I saw him. His beautiful grey eyes, the soft tufts of his hair, the peach fuzz on his porcelain skin. You could call this a crush, I guess. 

The feeling of having the warmth of anothers' bodily fluids on you. I want to know what it feels like. I want to feel the chunks of his vomit bless my skin, for his spit to become one with me, for his faeces to kiss me with their stench. It's better done than said, I guess. As soon as I finish my diner, I sprint up the stairs; it's time to indulge myself within my secret pleasure.

Maybe I should befriend him.

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As I go to school, I walk up to him. He's quitely reading a book, how cute he is! "Hi! What are you reading?" I excitedly ask, with this fake kind persona of mine. 

"It's... a detective novel." His answers are curt, I guess I have to do some questioning now.

"How fitting! Do you know who it is?"

"I think so." I look at how far he's read the book, it's not too deep. I raise my eyebrows in interest,

"Huh? Already?! You're so cool!" I cheer him on, he gets flustered.

Our conversation flows, and he opens up. I get his number.

He's a good catch.