Antonio
Pictures from Pinterest.
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First time isn't the fucking charm.
My mind has been replaying that day over and over on a loop until is painful, remembering he way her cheeks tint or the small gasps that escape her full lips when I touch her.
I thought fucking her out of my thoughts- even if it was just with my fingers- would work, but it didn't. At all. Instead it made me want her more. Want her lips on mine more. Her hips on top of mine more. Or even just her hands anywhere on me.
Shit she could do anything to me and I'd let her. Even if I have to get on my knees for it.
My attraction for her is down bad to the point where I get painful morning wood just thinking about her. And I'm fucking tired of it. Along with my fist.
I sound geeked as fuck but shit I want more of her. Any part of her that she's willing to give to me at least. Even though she annoys me sometimes it alright cause I'll show her why she shouldn't.
"Antonio, falling onto the right track I see." Ms. Hoover's annoying ass voice says as I walk into the classroom. Why can't she just leave me alone.
"Are there train tracks I'm not seeing?" I ask, looking around the big room for the only person I know get here earlier than everyone else.
"It's a metaphor, Antonio."
"Stick to Accounting." I mutter, latching my eyes onto the familiar head of curly hair seated on the far right of the classroom. Her head is nested in between her arms, and it seems like she's sleeping.
Ms. Hoover says something else, but I ignore her, hearing her say something along the lines of 'football is fucking up you guys brains'. I don't answer.
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