Page 245 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

And I ain’t stoppin’

‘til you’re a sobbin’,

soakin’-wet

mess.

And we both know I don’t do quick.’

I’m two seconds from texting him,

begging for mouth pics to jerk off to.

Little Death’s pacing my bloodstream,

with dark circles around its eyes,

sharpening its knife,

pissed I’m starving him,

whispering, just be a good girl

and open your fuckin’ legs, Allison.

And I do.

The sun pins me to the terrace,

the horizon pries them open,

and as a cold breeze slides between my thighs,

I close my eyes and see him,

feel him,

feel winter lick the center of my panties.

A gasp slips out of me,

and my thighs fall wider.

The sky holds my hips down

while December mouths my pussy,

another cold wind brushing my clit.

I whimper, lifting my hips into it,

dragging a finger over the low E string,

and the acoustic moans.

A growl crawls out of me, chasing it.

I throw my fist down into the grass,