For two years you waited through prison to have me. You wanted me, my face, my body, these tits, these legs while you languished in a cell with only my photographs and the shower room to give you any relief. You wanted me so badly you had me be the first to visit you when you got out. Not your overweight fiancee with the low self esteem and the affinity for zen healing. No, you wanted the bad girl. The bad girl in six inch whore heels who you talked filthy to, the one with the size six figure and double D breasts who you could pick up and fuck against the wall with her legs wrapped around your ass. Not the fat girl with the elastic waistbands and the sensible sneakers who sat around waiting to marry you because she couldn't get any other man to date her. And we sure humiliated the shit out of her.