He has a way with words
And I have no sense of delayed gratification,
Which means that for the last half of our time at the bar,
I fantasized to the sound of his voice
And forgot that I had decided not to sleep with him on the first date.
And I remember nothing
But the way he looks when he smiles
And the thought of cumming to that laugh.
And I have no sense of delayed gratification,
Which means that for the last half of our time at the bar,
I fantasized to the sound of his voice
And forgot that I had decided not to sleep with him on the first date.
And I remember nothing
But the way he looks when he smiles
And the thought of cumming to that laugh.
Anyway,
I went home with him.
I went home with him.
Previously published at Horror Sleaze trash and in Sad Discoveries
India LaPlace is kind of like if a dive bar and a dumpster fire had a human baby. She is a poet from the United States and a single mom who is aspiring to be a person with self discipline. Associate Editor at the sensational Horror Sleaze Trash. Generally pleasant, naturally cynical. Easily won over by a good book and a twisted sense of humor. You can find her on Instagram: @indiabrittany
She still loves Louis C.K.
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