Untitled romance stories
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writebackwards
writebackwards Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
"She's not cute. Did you think she was?" The thing about her isn't that she's traditionally beautiful. It's not that she's so hot you lose your mind and self control because you can't take your eyes off her face.

"She's not cute. Did you think she was?"

The thing about her isn't that she's traditionally beautiful. It's not that she's so hot you lose your mind and self control because you can't take your eyes off her face.

It's that she takes you over. She consumes your senses with her delectable clean scent, her whisper-light touch, her breathy voice in your ear.

What does she smell like? Soap and warmth and breezy cotton. It doesn't sound sexy, no, but it's intoxicating.

I still catch glimpses of that scent from strangers around me and get instantly wet.

How does she touch you? She barely glides her finger tips over your skin, brushing all the right spots along your neck and shoulders and thighs until you're begging for more, always wanting more.

The first time we kissed, she asked me over to watch a movie. I don't even know what we watched.

I ended up laying my head in her lap, because teenage sexuality dictates that you do seemingly innocuous things like that as a form of passive aggressive flirting. Then the touching began.

She trailed her fingers up my arm, from my fingertips to my collar bone, then back down. It was almost absent-mindedly, except for the little half-smirk on her thin lips.

She knew what she was doing. She knew my nerves were already angling to get closer to her touch, goosebumps popping up, my breath starting to catch.

The movie had been forgotten. My eyes could barely stay open. I was so focused on her touch and her whispers in my ear and trying so hard to not outright moan in her parents' basement.

Her hand had gone down my shirt with ease, thanks to the low-cut shirt I was wearing. There she was, fingers tracing the lines of my bra, and there I was, undeniably completely under her spell.

She hadn't even kissed me yet, but I couldn't move, couldn't control my breathing, couldn't even think.

When she whispered in my ear, I didn't even think twice. Of course you can kiss me. It was slow at first, gentle pecks and nips, but quickly became ravenous.

She was on top of me then, devouring me. I craved her. We had gone from long-time distant friends of friends to this in less than a week.

It's funny how a single song lyric sent over text message can shake your whole world upside down.

It was like that for about 9 months. Urgent, needy lust coursed through our veins, making every touch more passionate than the last, every glance more heated. Then, suddenly, she was done.

Decided she'd rather rub her fingers down the arm of her coworker at the smoothie shop where she worked. I tried not to be devastated. I tried not to feel like my world was crashing.

It wasn't love, I told myself.

But it was love and I was devastated. It's hard to bounce back from that deep physical connection in which you feel someone with every fiber of your being.

It's hard to settle for something less exciting, something more normal, something more tame.

"Are you okay?" Amanda was staring at me from across the table. Her girlfriend and my whatever - she - was were immersed in a conversation about some video game.

The cafe was busy, it was dinner time and students were anxious to get their fries and buffalo chicken wraps before hurrying back to the library to study for midterms.

I'd eaten Starbursts and Cherry Coke for dinner to prepare me for the all-nighter we were about to pull.

"Yeah, I mean, no, she wasn't pretty really. I dont know. It's hard to explain."

Sometimes you're attracted to looks, sometimes it's personality. Sometimes it's a deep aching need inside in which everything in you is straining to be closer, for more.

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