To The Short Thick Student With Big Tits And Auburn Hair That Sits Two Rows In Front Of My Desk In My 11:00 AM History Class
You might have thought I was looking at your tits but I wasn't. There were red and black checkers on your backpack beside your feet on the floor. I noticed them. I looked at your white shoes with black stripes down both sides, and thought about taking them off and putting your toes in my mouth one by one. I thought about me sucking, then chewing on your toenails, and your hips and ass squirming around in your seat. I ran my tongue up the back of your calf. I licked the soft crevice behind your knee until your thighs were covered in goose bumps. I licked it again. I thought about you lifting your leg and me going up, then up. I thought about cutting open an orange pixie stick and dumping it into your belly button and slurping the sugar back into my mouth and letting it stick to my teeth, and you arching your back into your chair and me going up, then up. You were wearing a low cut black blouse and you bent to get a pen from the backpack. The top of your chest was tan and bumpy like your neck and cheeks. I looked at your low cut black blouse, then heard someone say that history made sense because once something's done then it's done and there ain't a fucking thing anyone can do but talk about it. I heard what he said, considered its implications. I was somewhere else, somewhere ancient, being stoned to death alongside Montezuma. You lifted your head from underneath the desk, pen in hand, and looked into my eyes, watching me watch you. You looked down into your low cut black blouse, pulled the collar up, then zipped your black hooded sweatshirt. You might have thought I was looking at your tits but I wasn't.