Touch Me, Don't Love Me // styles

f i v e

I push the thought away as I drive home.

What if I make a move? Would it be wrong? She's not really my sister. She's sixteen and I'm eighteen. That's not really a thing right?

But...

I know it can't happen. What would people say? What would my mother say?

For one year I have been admiring her... fantasizing about her.

Sometimes I touch myself with the thought of her.

But most times I'd stop when I realise what I'm doing.

She'd be disgusted if she knew.

Her fingers gripping my hair, her legs around my waist and her lips on mine.

Again, I push the thoughts away to the farthest corner of my mind into a dark room and closed the door.

I forced myself to sleep.