Humerotica

If I Were You, I’d Want to Have Sex With Me

So why don’t you?

Photo by author

I mean, it’s possible you’re just pretending to ignore me, playing hard to get. Trying to act cool. When really you are hot as hell for me.

But I kind of doubt it.

By the way, I’m hot as hell for you, in case you wondered. I know, I haven’t exactly spelled that out, but I’ve been over here trying to give you the signal, you know. I’ve been cracking jokes, trying to get you to loosen up. I’ve been touching your arm almost every time I run into you. I’ve been telling you we should get together. I mean, what more do you need?

You know I want you.

Are you torturing me? Are you some kind of sadist? Do you get off on making women feel sexually frustrated? I mean, if you don’t like me, why do you keep stringing me along?

You know you do.

Just when I am about to give up on you, rescind my crush, and move on to my next crush, you give me one little smile. And that’s all it takes.

Damn you.

And your smile.

Your smile is like the sunrise behind the mountain — suddenly everything’s aglow.

Including my pussy.