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Mary On A Cross

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we go back to the kissing bridge at three in the morning. i’m in her clothes and they’re too big on me and they smell like her. i was supposed to be home six hours ago. mama will kill me.

the moon reflects on her smooth, pretty, dark skin. her eyes hold the whole sky in them, an endless source of love and light. i want to live in them.

she grabs my waist and presses me flush against the faded grey-white rainwashed wood of the bridge. she kisses me fiercely, an arousing dance of lips and tongue. she bites my lip and licks the wound then kisses me harder. i kiss her with all i am, all i’ve loved and all i will be.

we kiss until we can no longer breathe. my lip stings, a reminder that i am hers. she claimed me. my head is dizzy and my chest feels tight. mama would be angry if she new what i was doing.

sneaking out and kissing girls that keep their hands on my waist and in my hair, that bite my lips and lick up my blood, that tell me they love me and that they’re mine and i am theirs.

we back go to her house, and she tells me to take off my shirt. i freeze on her bed.

“i want to,” i manage to get out. “but we can’t. it’s a sin and we— i’m a— i don’t know what to do.” i whisper, tearing up a bit. she embraces me. hands on my back, whispering sweetly into my ear. “i’ll show you.”

we kiss again, not just on the mouth. she kisses my neck, my shoulders, bites my collarbones, and asks if i’m alright. “yes, misha.”

she takes off her shirt, breasts free, not confined by a restrictive bra like mine.

i want to touch her breasts. they look soft.
she whispers, soft, strong hands holding mine in place. "wait."

i look at her wide-eyed and worried. she’s unbuttoning my (her) shirt and unlacing my corset. my breasts spill out, and she starts to kiss them, suckling on the nipple. i’ve never felt anything like this before.

she grips my wrist gently, leading my hand to her chest. an invitation. i do what she’d done to mine, and she moans sweetly, begs and pleads for more.

“wait, lovely. wanna make you feel good too.” she whimpered, straddling my lap and guiding me to lie down. her nimble fingers flutter downward to that place down there. it feels good. i feels filthy. i want more.

“please!” and she takes my (her) pants off.

she’s guiding my hips over her mouth and her tongue is kissing my most vulnerable parts, breathing me in and tasting me.

it feels so good, i want to cry.

god help me.