drunk babe

A few key words, walking, fucking, bushes , love, lust , strangle, meomemry, caught up in the momement.

These are all things I felt while drunk and in love. I wanted to be fucked, and I wanted to be fucked by you.

I got really pissed on wine at home alone listening to a record player, as I bathed and dressed myself, applying eyeliner and brushing my hair. I could taste the hase, my mind breathing in through the filter of a ciggeret. The moon shines in through the many windows of my house, this old house where I can play music as loud as I want to. And in the kitchen I sat with a glass of wine in hand, tap dripping. That slow build as the sink fills, just like my lust, drip drip I can feel the build, I want you. And wine is just helping me wait. I can hear a clock on the wall, the time is wrong, and that does not really matter, the later it is at night the lest time I have to spend at the pub before I can hold your hand and walk on into the gardens.

I am wearing underwear but I don’t really need them, they are just for show, something for you to take off me something for you to feel, as secret. I have loved you for some time, my underwear says. And I am exposing myself for you.

I grab my purse as I hear the car pull up, we go in a group driven to the party. And I walk in feeling the happy wave of air on my face. I chat, it is fun and I see you.

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