It became a regular thing.
Not just we were alcohol fueled.
During the day when I could feel the sun's rays hit my pale skin through the slightly opened curtain.
During the night when we would keep our moans and groans to ourselves as to not alert our roomates to our activities.
I had you so physically close.
Raking my nails down your tanned back when you brought me immense pleasure,
pleasure so great that I fell even deeper into an abyss.
Yet, we were the furthest we had ever been.
It should stop.
I should stop.
We should stop.
Stop lying to ourselves because we can both see it coming.
We're nearing the core of the plum.
Our teeth barely grazing the giant pit.
There'll only be one way out and that's to pull away.
That's what I'm thinking as our lips slant over each others.
But I can't bring myself to do it.
Not just yet.
You're a guy.
I am a guy.
Is there hope for us?
And when you bite my lower lip
All I can see is white.
When my back hits the wall of your room, the one that has become familiar with the curve of my back, due to to the countless times this has happened...
It's getting bitter again.
YOU ARE READING
PLUM
Short StoryMuch like the first time biting into a plum, the skin bitter, the inside sweeter. That was what my first kiss with a guy was like; it was like a plum.
