Raz
Bluelighter
He's a 21st Century boy, with his hands on the wheel. He's steering me like I want it and even while it's happening I have trouble believing he really *wants* me.
It all seems too much, too handy a coincidence.
He's sexy and dangerous and dirty but when he talks I want more.
He's dirty and dangerous and sexy but when I look into his eyes I want more.
I really want more.
What game is this? What romance comes out of swapping spit and sweat and fucking in a tired dark room? What romance comes from a guy who's had as many people as I have and who knows it never meant anything? Yet when he gave me his number...there was a drawing. There was a personality. There was something.
So do I create this fantasy that seems more exciting than sex? Or do I let it go? I still haven't decided that yet. I'll wait till he rings and then I'll decide whether this is what romace has become.
I'm a 21st Century boy, trying not to make him sick again.
Seeing what I can borrow.
It all seems too much, too handy a coincidence.
He's sexy and dangerous and dirty but when he talks I want more.
He's dirty and dangerous and sexy but when I look into his eyes I want more.
I really want more.
What game is this? What romance comes out of swapping spit and sweat and fucking in a tired dark room? What romance comes from a guy who's had as many people as I have and who knows it never meant anything? Yet when he gave me his number...there was a drawing. There was a personality. There was something.
So do I create this fantasy that seems more exciting than sex? Or do I let it go? I still haven't decided that yet. I'll wait till he rings and then I'll decide whether this is what romace has become.
I'm a 21st Century boy, trying not to make him sick again.
Seeing what I can borrow.
