Ever since I’ve met him, my life been twisted in a bunch of sinful thoughts of him. He claimed that we’re just friends, but behind the close doors—he’s under me, whimpering.

Or, is just my dreams provoking me while I’m thrusting into my hookups?

He looks like a vivid dream, the type of guy you’ll see one time and have you yearning after he’s gone. He looks sweet, too sweet. I wonder if he taste sweet as well like the cherry on top of his personality and wet looks.

I couldn’t take it anymore. All my hookups don’t satisfy me anymore, not when I have a five course meal afar from me. Not when he posted that photo of him shirtless in that mirror…

My foot in the gas petal of my black McLaren, revving down the highway. I didn’t care, not when my desire for him is going to snap any second. I am going to make him mine tonight…