Bizarre love triangle.
She actually had me convinced that all it would take was one time and he’d be cured. Mix that with the fact that I was really eager to finally do it and there was no turning back.
Big man with a gun.
Sometimes I feel like I missed some opportunity in the past. That first night I kissed him it was so I could remember how it felt to kiss a boy. I also hoped it would set him free. He lay me on my back and kissed me between my legs. I kept on coming back for more.
Bang a gong (get it on).
When we met it was always late and his parents were asleep or on vacation. He kept wine and pot below his bed so we could relax before our turgid kisses.
Blood sugar sex magic.
The first time was in his parent’s waterbed, but I don’t really remember much about it because we ended up stacked one on top of the other in the bathtub. Melting sadness as he remembered his abuse and the pain of a forced touch.
Boys don’t cry. He did.
Some nights we didn’t fuck or even make love. We just lay next to one another and touched in our sleep. He didn’t come and the next morning I left.
Bye bye love.
These days it means something entirely different. There is no bittersweet. Comfort comes from being close to the boy that I love. The boy that I love is new, a man, and my love is all grown up. Pain is only around when he is not.
Back in baby’s arms.