Remember me? I'm the girl next door you screwed over. I'm the sweet young girl you turned bad. I'm the innocent girl you did unspeakable thing to. Yes, I was that girl.
The first time I laid eyes on you I was fascinated by your bad boy look. Being Miss goody two shoes hadn't worked out that well for me, so I figured, what the hell? I've never been the kind of girl that makes the first move, but I was so tired of being pushed around by "good boys" that I took a chance. I walked straight towards you and said, "Hi. Are you with someone tonight?". You saw right through my femme fatale charade. I guess you were amused or entertained. I guess you wanted to see how far I was willing to go. You said, "I'm with you now. Let's go get a beer. It's on me."
That night you asked me to go home with you. I thought we would just mess around and have some wine. I said, What the hell? I lied for the first time to my parents about my whereabouts. It felt good. I felt this shot of adrenaline fill my body.
We got to your place. You started to kiss my neck, unbutton my shirt. You started to caress my leg, to pull up my skirt. I felt this itch. We took our business to bed. I had never been alone with a strange man. I had never felt this before. Mom always said good girls don't feel this way. She said meaningless sex didn't feel good. Oh boy was she lying. It felt good. It felt take-me-now kind of good.
I was at this point where either I could call it a night and leave you all mad and horny or I could just lift up my hips. There's a moment, a single split second where you can let a man know. It's the hips dilemma. You lift them up and it's a go. You don't... well, it's a no go, nice try, nice to meet you, have a good night.
Yes, as you know, I lifted my hips. Yes, as you are very aware, we had sex. Being bad never felt so good.
Oh yes, about that thing I said. Thank you for showing that innocent girl a well behaved life, ain't a good little life.
The first time I laid eyes on you I was fascinated by your bad boy look. Being Miss goody two shoes hadn't worked out that well for me, so I figured, what the hell? I've never been the kind of girl that makes the first move, but I was so tired of being pushed around by "good boys" that I took a chance. I walked straight towards you and said, "Hi. Are you with someone tonight?". You saw right through my femme fatale charade. I guess you were amused or entertained. I guess you wanted to see how far I was willing to go. You said, "I'm with you now. Let's go get a beer. It's on me."
That night you asked me to go home with you. I thought we would just mess around and have some wine. I said, What the hell? I lied for the first time to my parents about my whereabouts. It felt good. I felt this shot of adrenaline fill my body.
We got to your place. You started to kiss my neck, unbutton my shirt. You started to caress my leg, to pull up my skirt. I felt this itch. We took our business to bed. I had never been alone with a strange man. I had never felt this before. Mom always said good girls don't feel this way. She said meaningless sex didn't feel good. Oh boy was she lying. It felt good. It felt take-me-now kind of good.
I was at this point where either I could call it a night and leave you all mad and horny or I could just lift up my hips. There's a moment, a single split second where you can let a man know. It's the hips dilemma. You lift them up and it's a go. You don't... well, it's a no go, nice try, nice to meet you, have a good night.
Yes, as you know, I lifted my hips. Yes, as you are very aware, we had sex. Being bad never felt so good.
Oh yes, about that thing I said. Thank you for showing that innocent girl a well behaved life, ain't a good little life.
1 comment:
Ay! historias de martes.
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