Good IntentionsMature

Glass. Lips. Swallow. Breathe.


His lips brushed the back of my neck, and I felt myself shudder at his touch.  It was a familiar touch, but that didn't make it a welcomed one.  I downed another.

 My throat was in flames and his grip around my waist was becoming less suggestive and more demanding.

I may be a lot of things; a drunk, a lunatic, a moron.  But submissive?


The alcohol burning in my veins made me woozy, but it also made me strong. Or maybe just stupid enough to think it made me strong.

His lips hesitated at my ears.

 His voice was soft , but I sensed something more when he whispered, "Come closer."

The End

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