logan, 2007.

“I want to see how we fit together. Get on the couch,” he ordered, pushing me down onto said couch as he climbed on top of me. Who am I to argue?

It’s the dead of winter, those endless dark days and nights of February. I’ve got a vodka rocks in my hand, his long gone and then some. The apartment I’m in has absolute shit heat and a pair of those fake leather couches that are even colder than the dirty floor.

At that time I had (very) casually started seeing Logan; an incredibly smart manic type with a penchant for pornography of any genre. Long dark hair, piercing laugh and dark eyes. We met at a townie bar with a karaoke night, as one does. After exchanging numbers, we had been on some very nonchalant dates, but I was raring to get in his pants by this point. Was there chemistry? Was there throwdown?

We’re drunk, all over each other, feeling each other out for the first time and loving it. He’s aggressive like I am, his hands all over me, frantically pulling at my dress zipper. It’s so goddamned late, but it doesn’t matter. Time flies and the fit is perfect. He kisses my neck and I scratch him up a little right then and there, his big hardon digging into me as he thrust on my hip. I pull his hair and yelp a little in ecstasy as he bites my shoulder, leaving a mark.

I wish I didn’t have to leave so soon, but it was fucking 5am and my sister had already called twice.

Logan is an excellent kisser, deep and raw and passionate. The type of kiss that stays with you, deep in your bones. He doesn’t fuck around. Vicious making out, complete with groping my tits and grabbing his ass, him slowly removing my clothes and throwing his pants into the other room as if they had committed an offense. I go to grab his cock, and my damned phone buzzes insistently.

My sister, once again succeeding in killing the mood. Fucking hell… way too drunk to drive, I walked home from the neighbouring town in the bitter cold and was delighted to receive a string of lewd text messages to pass the time.

“You’re going to get punished the next time I see you.”

“I should have had you naked here. I want to cum in your mouth.”

“I’m going to fuck you like you deserve, like the slut you are.”

Watching the sun rise as I amble up to my house, I received a far more bland text from my boyfriend, whom I was set on breaking things off with later on that day. I am fucking exhausted by it all, but totally wired on that buzzing sexual energy only a good hookup can provide. There’s more to this story.

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