I like a boy. A lot. And, he likes me. A lot.
It’s hard to explain exactly why I like this particular boy so much. But, he has made me question whether or not I would be monogamous for him. Me. Monogamous. WHAT?
So, then I snap back into reality and realize that I will only be monogamous to myself. My freedom is as essential as oxygen and I’m sure I would wither and die without it. But, this boy has me love drunk and contemplating bad decisions.
I think it’s because I have him in my blood stream. His saliva, his semen, his sweat. I’ve absorbed him and he’s become part of me. I think his bodily fluids are spiked with something.
The other day he came over straight from the gym. He texted a preemptive apology for being “funky”. I responded that I liked his funk. He called me a weirdo. But, I know he smiled when he wrote it.
He came over smelling of sweat and man and gym: a delicious concoction of fitness and health.
As I was sitting cross legged on a chair we began slowly kissing and removing each other’s clothes. When the last article was off, he kneeled on the floor and buried his head in my lap. “Sorry again that I didn’t have a chance to shower,” he murmured into my inner thigh.
I leaned over his dark, muscular back and deeply inhaled his scent. And, then, I did the only thing that felt right; I licked the length of his back. Up and down, down and up. Slowly tasting all of him. He was salty and textured as I felt goosebumps arrive on his skin’s surface.
“I’d rather taste you over soap any day,” I finally responded. And, what I didn’t say, was that I’d rather taste him over anyone any day.
I like this boy. A lot. And, I licked him. . . so, he’s mine now.