Sk8ter Boy’s Whore

Rarely was I ever inclined to go for someone younger than me. Too often it’s just men shorter than me, but as an Amazonian woman, I do love my short kings. Your college-level brain turned me on, and a skater boy from the city, you just were cool. Talking came easy; it wasn’t ever anything too deep, but as a young man, your respect for queer people made me comfortable. Rarely was I afforded that respect from the straights these days, so it was always a good feeling getting it. One minute I felt safe in your presence, the next your thoughts turned dirtier than a sailor. Emotionally, I was always riding a tightrope with you. The second you made me your cum dump, I felt dehumanized, yet I was still leaking and throbbing for more. The first time you came to my house and did everything you said you were going to do to me, I became obsessed. So often do men talk a big game and fall short to complete the task; you, however, were quite the opposite, and I was taken aback by how you delivered. You asked me to wear tights that you could rip off my body, and the moment we were behind closed doors, you tore them from my body. You asked me to wear lipstick so it would smear all over you when you were in my mouth, and by the end, I don’t think I had much lipstick still on. You said to wear a plug so when you were ready, you could just pound away at your convenience, so when you pulled it out and thrusted into me, I felt turned on. A man who keeps his word, no matter how much I felt belittled or just used for my body, I also felt satisfied and craved for more. What a wild juxtaposition to have fighting inside my head. The first time we met, I spent an hour straight, knees in the gravel, dedicated to making you cum while you were sitting in my driver’s seat smoking American Spirits. I told you then I didn’t want to kiss because I thought it would help me emotionally detach from you and allow us just to be friends with benefits, but I was kidding myself. I kissed you soon after those words left my lips because I couldn’t resist yours. And to finish it off, our last encounter involved a very particular bathroom I’ve always wanted to find myself in. With you was a surprise for sure. You danced with me and smoked cigs with me while we drank and vibed until I pulled you into the bathroom and got on my knees. I walked you home in the cold because it felt wrong to just let you go alone when I made you come out in the first place. Plus I liked you enough to want to spend that extra fifteen minutes together knowing it was probably the last time I’d see you. You’d always hit me up when you were horny, like how I happened to drunken walk towards your apartment in hopes to be invited in and I was. We seem to always find moments to enjoy each other and although I might’ve only been your whore. You told me I gave the best head you’ve ever gotten. “So meet me in the bathroom, and I may do what I do, to get your ornery.”