I have no right. I mean, she’s to you what he’s to me right?
But, couldn’t you be honest? When you were pounding into me and loving me those nights, was she there? Was she in your thoughts? Did you imagine her?
I doubt it. Not the way you held my head the way you did. Not the way your fingers dug deep in my skin the way they did. And absolutely not the way you fit inside me like the missing piece of that frustrating puzzle, the way you did.
Does she do you like me? Does she make you squirm and throw your head back in ecstasy like me? Does she make you tense up as you spill your seed inside like me?
Nah. You’re not in the right place, your mind ain’t right. You don’t want this. You said so yourself. Unless that was a lie too. Was that a lie? Will I ever know the truth? Will I ever be your truth?
Photograph me. Pull me up behind you like you did that night and photograph my mouth on you doing what you like that I do to you. Throw me on the bed and turn me over and snap away as you push inside and pull me up and push inside and pull me up. Again. And again. And again. Snap away. Go ahead daddy. Snap away.
Take that money shot and post that shit on your Instagram and tell all your friends about how good you did me, how crazy I fucked you, how maddening you made me, how urgently you insisted and how quickly I made you…
Come clean. Leave her behind. Let her be. And when you call me again, when you want me again, when you want that real dirty, I’ll make sure you forget her, Mr. Crushboy.