Falling in Love (With the Wrong Man)
—Falling in love with you never felt so damn satisfying.
Tell me: how did it feel, knowing that, unconditionally I'd love you better than I'd love myself? How did it feel, knowing that you took me to places I'd never even dream of? For a moment, just a moment, I thought I knew what it was; what it meant to finally get the "love" I'd desired in my tiny 16-year old body. For a moment, I thought that you were the "one and only" that my parents would coo and gawk at, drooling incessively at this dreamy disposition of the concept I wanted to learn about vehemently.
Really, these were the thoughts I had running through my mind. Fire in my bones, firecrackers going off in my head, this dripping, oozing heat: a crippling devotion, to get down on my knees and beg you for the "love" I so easily gave to you.
"Please," gasping the word, my chest felt tight, a steel vise gripped my lungs with such force. "Take me!"
And, happily—slyly, with a gritty smirk on your face: you obliged. My body had no choice to obey to your every whim. Ooh, I wished you could take me deeper. Deeper and deeper until I gave into your slightest command. The darkness in the room enhancing my senses. I felt your movements, your labored breathing, the tiniest contortions; how you didn't understand that I wanted you. Or, maybe you did. That was your plan.
In my ignorance, you understood my passions. My wants and my very needs. You dipped your words in the smoothest honey, it tasted so sweet to you—you knew what you'd do to me. Oh, you fucking devil. I should've known.
The greatest sex, ended with my own feelings unanswered. You knew how to grind in me, you knew how to make the cream flow from in between those steaming legs. The sweat leaving me only followed your demands. You knew me.
The wrong man, had never felt so right.