“I Think About Ghosting You (You, You, You…)”

She makes me feel a way and I don’t like it, even if I should. She knows this when she sees me close my eyes when she looks at me and pretends she doesn’t know when she says, “what? You’re so silly” she’s right. I think about ghosting you.

I can do that to her, I think to myself; her smile perfect, she exposes more of herself that makes rejection insulting. She says to me, “you’ve always loved allll of this, Wood,” he feels her tone right in that spot in the stomach.

“Fuck,” I say, shaking my head and a finger. “Christ, don’t you dare suck on my finger.” And then…

“What? Why are you moaning? You like that, huh?”

“Maybe,” I lie. I was certain that I did. She’s a dick-eating monster, Instagram video thirst trapping, Switch a Nigga Out, Summer Walker follower. “Karma,” I put my hands on her shoulders. It was supposed to mean stop and my intention was well-meaning — it’s just that her mouth is better. Look at the smile on her face — I think she heard me!

“Mmm,” she’s tracing that big vein. She stops to suck the sac, softly, attentively. Passionately. Those sexy sounds from her diaphragm, again. Her forehead is damp, I move her hair from her face, but more to control her head — I am deep in her throat now; she squeezes her eyes. “I can’t do that with you.”