Something short I wrote during a lunch break. Tell me how much it sucks. [mf]

Sixty-seven minutes and two seconds ago I was standing at the back of a show.

She invited me in for tea.

I don’t even drink tea.It’s the middle of August and the cup is burning my hand.There’s sugar stuck on the rim of the mug.I want to run my feet on the carpet.Who buys wicker furniture?Does she pay rent or her parents?”You have an awesome place.”I bet she doesn’t even touch that guitar.I would kill for a cigarette.Sixty-nine minutes and twenty-two seconds.I wonder what kind of wood that is.I wonder if her dad molested her as a kid.I wonder what Jimmy is doing from middle school.I fucking hate this song.”Yeah, I really like the imagery from the lyrics.”I can hear Mr. Orange tell Mr. White he’s a cop.Bangbangbang.The triangle is the strongest geometric shape.Where am I again?Where are the coasters?Why do I care?I’ve listened to this chick drone on and on aboutashittybandIdon’tcareaboutusingvapidwordslike”rad”and”stellar”.I’vebeenhereforseventy-sevenminutesandthirty-fivesecondswhatdopeoplethinkaboutbeforethey—

Oh.

I had been staring at her lips this whole time.

She must have thought I wanted to kiss her.

The thought never even crossed my mind.

I can hear my heart pump blood.

I sank my teeth into her bottom lip.

She stood up and lead me to her room.

We never broke contact.

“Wait here, I will be right back.”

White, plastered, swooped ceiling.

I use to sleep in a captain’s bed.
People use teddy bears to smuggle drugs. I locked my car, right? 1/30 shutter speed, 800 iso, no flash. Never settle, never relapse.Punk rock is for sheltered middle class kids.Let it bake for thirty minutes.Hewastalkingabouthowheneededaphonenotwantingtogohomebuymilkmyhandisstillredfromholdingthemugthat’soutsideonthe—

Black laced leggings.

Black laced panties.

Black bra with a front clasp.

I could rip her pale flesh off of her body.

Eighty-three minutes and— oh, who the fuck cares? She lifted her right leg over me and sat on my waist. My chest tensed. My blood swelled. I felt like a truck hit my lips.

A door slammed shut.

A window flew open.

I turned her around by her hip and forced her wrists down onto the bed. I let my lazy tongue and sunk my teeth into her neck. She tensed and flinched, but succumbed. I worked from behind her ear, down her collar bone and brought my right hand to her neck. I tightened my hand and stifled her breath. Or maybe that was due to kissing her cleavage. I tongued open the clasp and rested my head in her chest. The bones in my hand clicked in waves of tension. Ninety— focus. I could smell the fresh sweat laced with pheromones emanating from her pores.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/23lqb5/something_short_i_wrote_during_a_lunch_break_tell