Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click herei may have to put on five or ten pounds,
i so like this contentment. i like the feel
of your belly, sticky, against my skin.
you kiss me again, slippy tongue snug beneath
my earlobe. hair fluffs against my throat. your thigh
slides heavy over me, a bother that melts
my heart in a puddle, in a place too clear.
this is bad. you’re living with your grandparents.
you spend too many hours on tumblr, instead
of your thesis. i think you need a mommie,
not a muff-diving missionary. i’ve got
no compass, just cunt on the brain, and cuddles.
i must’ve been born a slave, i know it.
just this morning when i thought of you, i said
to myself: you’re not that pretty, a bit full
of it, really. sweet, how you can act so dumb.
well, you’re young. that’s no proof you’ll ever have
a dime worth of sense. i sound like my mom,
i know, i know. i see, too, this is another chain
you’ll use to jerk me around (haven’t you,
already?). the wallflower role belongs to me
and it’s too late to hide behind another cup
of tea, now i know the pucker of your nipples
against my mouth, my skin. in this night’s dark
i’ve suckled your toes. who knows, maybe you’ll
be my bed-dish twenty years forward. if i weather
your social calendar. you speak of way too many
friends for comfort. i’d like to grow a pot-
belly for your hand to smooth. us, two tropical
fruits, gourds, grown ripe in the rank heat
of a finger-fucking garden. my god,
who still wears thumb-rings? you’re really too young.
i’m done for though. my cunt recalls its impress.
so I’ll wait, vegetate beneath your tendrils, touch;
and breathe, and sweat, serene to waft
beneath your wind, wakeful, to do what you will.
some of this is good stand up comedy
i 5ed it for that reason