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I knew she was out of my league She was on another level She was on another wavelength I was Pony league, she was pro I was amateur, she was celebrity She was better looking, more experienced She was more woman than I was man She was a ghetto goddess I was a dork She was used to guys who beat up guys like me I was used to girls who wore pink nail polish The thought of even knowing her never even crossed my mind Like it was even possible Yet there we were, alone together, In a ****** room at a ****** party, And you thought I was just cute enough You gave me your number, then demanded mine This chick made me wish I was anyone but me Someone more badass, more debonair She was everything intimidating, Too much woman for most men, more manly than some men And for some reason, she wanted me Our first date, her choice – a pool hall. She schooled me on the man’s game Our second date, her choice – Six Flags. She only wanted to try the scary rides Each date made me feel less worthy Yet still she wanted me Our third date was at her mother’s house She made me dinner She made me pasta, my favorite And then we went to the bassment for a game of pool Because she was that badass Halfway into the game. She learned her mother would be gone for the night So she grabbed a Billy Idol record, and started “Rebel Yell” Like it was her anthem As it began to play she said, “If you can’t make this ******* needle skip, you ain’t hitting it right” And she took off her shirt And I almost cried with delight No one had ever talked ***** to me before Only in ****** had I seen such scenes like this Now I was in one And it was loud and rough, and wet and wild, It was dangerous, it was merciless It was a boy’s dream, it was a man’s heaven Round One was on the pool table We ripped the clothing from out bodies Stripes and solids bounced off the floor Tongues and arms spread across the table She was a loud lover, and I loved it Her legs wrapped around my neck Her hands clinging to the pockets Like I was the hero in an action film Breaking the rules, banging the hottest woman I was a seventeen year old MAN (Oh and old Billy didn’t make it to the second chorus, I made that needle skip) Round Two was in her bedroom She changed uniforms, into a pink lace shirt That neither covered up, nor hid anything Instead, it somehow made her even sexier And the battle raged on Into the night, and the morning beyond The bed was soaked and stained She flopped on top of me  with a slap of our sweaty skin And I wore her like a trophy As we both gasped for air, I stuttered, “ I could get use to nights like this…” And she turned to me, and we locked eyes, “Nah, you’re not angry enough in bed for me.” “I didn’t know we were suppose to be angry in bed.” “Yeah, that’s why I usually date older guys... They’re much more violent in bed… but this was okay.” You know what’s worst than a bad ***** A good ***** with a bad ending.
0
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Bedroom Confessions Chapter Three: It’s Not Me, It’s You
I knew she was out of my league She was on another level She was on another wavelength I was Pony league, she was pro I was amateur, she was celebrity She was better looking, more experienced She was more woman than I was man She was a ghetto goddess I was a dork She was used to guys who beat up guys like me I was used to girls who wore pink nail polish The thought of even knowing her never even crossed my mind Like it was even possible Yet there we were, alone together, In a ****** room at a ****** party, And you thought I was just cute enough You gave me your number, then demanded mine This chick made me wish I was anyone but me Someone more badass, more debonair She was everything intimidating, Too much woman for most men, more manly than some men And for some reason, she wanted me Our first date, her choice – a pool hall. She schooled me on the man’s game Our second date, her choice – Six Flags. She only wanted to try the scary rides Each date made me feel less worthy Yet still she wanted me Our third date was at her mother’s house She made me dinner She made me pasta, my favorite And then we went to the bassment for a game of pool Because she was that badass Halfway into the game. She learned her mother would be gone for the night So she grabbed a Billy Idol record, and started “Rebel Yell” Like it was her anthem As it began to play she said, “If you can’t make this ******* needle skip, you ain’t hitting it right” And she took off her shirt And I almost cried with delight No one had ever talked ***** to me before Only in ****** had I seen such scenes like this Now I was in one And it was loud and rough, and wet and wild, It was dangerous, it was merciless It was a boy’s dream, it was a man’s heaven Round One was on the pool table We ripped the clothing from out bodies Stripes and solids bounced off the floor Tongues and arms spread across the table She was a loud lover, and I loved it Her legs wrapped around my neck Her hands clinging to the pockets Like I was the hero in an action film Breaking the rules, banging the hottest woman I was a seventeen year old MAN (Oh and old Billy didn’t make it to the second chorus, I made that needle skip) Round Two was in her bedroom She changed uniforms, into a pink lace shirt That neither covered up, nor hid anything Instead, it somehow made her even sexier And the battle raged on Into the night, and the morning beyond The bed was soaked and stained She flopped on top of me  with a slap of our sweaty skin And I wore her like a trophy As we both gasped for air, I stuttered, “ I could get use to nights like this…” And she turned to me, and we locked eyes, “Nah, you’re not angry enough in bed for me.” “I didn’t know we were suppose to be angry in bed.” “Yeah, that’s why I usually date older guys... They’re much more violent in bed… but this was okay.” You know what’s worst than a bad ***** A good ***** with a bad ending.
kyledalsanto
Written by
M/Los Angeles-Chicago
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
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