Teenage Boy’s Fantasy?

Cliche I know as I imagine your lips touching mine. Childish I realize to want to hold you in my arms. Just like a teenage you to crave your hands all over me.

However, temptation to taste a new concoction, be it poison or dark berried wine, make cliche seem folly in ones mouth. Seduction of an embrace turns a hug into a firey encirclement of lust. As well as a teenage boy’s dream changing scenery to a more erotic and a less picturesk theme.

It started so simple as I stared at your lips, like I always seem to do. My eyes could have painted you with a fine tipped brush and black ink. Your curves entraced me and your sinister expressions intrigued my mind.

All I really desired was to trace your lips with my own but once. So I dared it, fear made my stomach roar in the agony of a dying lion, and caused my hands to go cold. I felt a brush like moth wings on my lips and you kept still, a rabit caught in the jaws of a wolf, but in a moment your lips parted, and the urge to taste the forbidden grape came to me again. Like dew dappled peaches your tongue touched mine and I squirmed.

Your arms slid around my neck, two serpents intertwining me. I curled mine around your hips and savored the enchantment and maybe even the drunkeness that came over me. Your fingers grabbed my hair, spiders that nested within cobwebs, and you pushed me backwards onto your bed. You fell on top of me and my hips grinded against yours without thought. A helpless cry came from your lips as I pushed you into the wall and off of me.

The kiss ended and you pulled back, your short brown hair trickling down your face like water, and your eyes full of curiosity. I smiled a small smile and as the intoxication wore off I shook my long main of hair and blushed a little. Throwing my body off the bed, I leaped for my backpack and was just about to walk out the door when you spoke.

“Hey, what the fuck was that?” She asked me. I shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

“Sure as hell you don’t.” She retorted an aggitated fringe on her voice.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” I said innocently as I turned the door knob.

“Oh, fuck you.” She hissed at me.

“Maybe some other time, I have class.” I flashed a wicked grin at her.

“Bitch…” Was whispered under her breath.

By ChildofDeath

A little gothic girl going to a boarding school.