Handlebars

I met a nice boy. Just the other day. He let me ride on his handlebars. He of the dash. Of the young. Of the handsome. With the prettiest cock. Sweetest junk. I mean that stuff sent me into orbit.

Outside of the edgiest tattoos I've seen, his peircings only ordinary. But his devilishly forked tongue had me screaming orgasms. Once I explained he couldn't actually fuck me, he got over it, our awkwardness dissolving like daylight softly turning to twilight. Watching the dandelions floating over the horizon. Sunset.

Sometimes I wonder if I don't get enough sleep. Sometimes, sleep.