When I saw you standing in the distance, I immediately took off in a full sprint. I was running to catch you.
There was no way I was going to let you become another missed connection. Your hair was in a ponytail and I could smell the fruity conditioner even from this distance.
A perfect supporting actress to my main lead.
Besides, you were next to the Honda. My Honda. Destiny was toying with me yet again.
You saw me coming but made no sudden moves. In fact you watched, almost dazzled. Presumably in awe of my acceleration and speed.
I replayed the scene to myself in slow mo and I was spectacular.
You were writing something and didn't look up as I landed close to your personal zone. "Careful. Might fall out with heat exhaustion."
Easy does it, you harlot. Your concern for my well being is touching, but don't suffocate me. I mean, really.
Still, it convinced me of what I already knew. You were head over heels for me. How could you not be?
Your work shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal a tank top. A tank top stretching every fiber to contain the plump breasts that seemed to reach out and smack me.
A few small beads of sweat had formed in the crease of your cleavage. Your lumps gently bouncing as you shifted your stance.
The sweat beads took off into the hidden garden of your tank top and I almost followed. Not that I was staring.
I adjusted my backpack to cover my raging maximus erectus.
"When your done with my tits you may want to take your ticket. Your meter is expired."
"I was JUST getting ready to put my quarters in... the meter that is." I snatched the ticket from your hand.
"Sure you were. I was just getting ready to build the East End bridge."
I haven't paid a meter since 1994 and I wasn't about to start.
"Your pathetically behind schedule on that. And if you want me to cram my manhood in between your love melons, a ticket isn't necessary. Sweetness."
"I have a man thank you and besides that, he also...pays his fines." You looked around like someone was going to high five you. "Don't make me call for a boot."
"Pays his fines? So he's a felon. How surprising. Let me guess, he only hits you because he's stressed out from playing Mass Effect 3 all day. Clearly not his fault."
"Shit. We play Grand theft auto together. Naked."
You were slowly meandering down the sidewalk while I moved from shoulder to shoulder.
"Grand theft auto? Are you kidding me? The irony. Does his mom tattoo get you randy? I bet when he mows down the hookers in the Lincoln Navigator, you have a moment of silence."
I exaggerated my laughter.
"Your just jealous cause you drive that piece of shit Grand Am."
Stop. Grand Am? I examined the ticket for the first time. Not the Honda. Of course.
Means this must have been a rouse to get close to me. No need to set that record straight. In fact, time to jet.
"Have a nice day." You loosely voiced in my direction.
I gave you the finger without turning around, to the chagrin of a women with a small child walking past me at that moment.
I put the ticket on the proper car but in my glee forgot to get your name off it.
I'm thinking maid outfit...French this time. Quarters at the ready...
N.
There was no way I was going to let you become another missed connection. Your hair was in a ponytail and I could smell the fruity conditioner even from this distance.
A perfect supporting actress to my main lead.
Besides, you were next to the Honda. My Honda. Destiny was toying with me yet again.
You saw me coming but made no sudden moves. In fact you watched, almost dazzled. Presumably in awe of my acceleration and speed.
I replayed the scene to myself in slow mo and I was spectacular.
You were writing something and didn't look up as I landed close to your personal zone. "Careful. Might fall out with heat exhaustion."
Easy does it, you harlot. Your concern for my well being is touching, but don't suffocate me. I mean, really.
Still, it convinced me of what I already knew. You were head over heels for me. How could you not be?
Your work shirt was unbuttoned enough to reveal a tank top. A tank top stretching every fiber to contain the plump breasts that seemed to reach out and smack me.
A few small beads of sweat had formed in the crease of your cleavage. Your lumps gently bouncing as you shifted your stance.
The sweat beads took off into the hidden garden of your tank top and I almost followed. Not that I was staring.
I adjusted my backpack to cover my raging maximus erectus.
"When your done with my tits you may want to take your ticket. Your meter is expired."
"I was JUST getting ready to put my quarters in... the meter that is." I snatched the ticket from your hand.
"Sure you were. I was just getting ready to build the East End bridge."
I haven't paid a meter since 1994 and I wasn't about to start.
"Your pathetically behind schedule on that. And if you want me to cram my manhood in between your love melons, a ticket isn't necessary. Sweetness."
"I have a man thank you and besides that, he also...pays his fines." You looked around like someone was going to high five you. "Don't make me call for a boot."
"Pays his fines? So he's a felon. How surprising. Let me guess, he only hits you because he's stressed out from playing Mass Effect 3 all day. Clearly not his fault."
"Shit. We play Grand theft auto together. Naked."
You were slowly meandering down the sidewalk while I moved from shoulder to shoulder.
"Grand theft auto? Are you kidding me? The irony. Does his mom tattoo get you randy? I bet when he mows down the hookers in the Lincoln Navigator, you have a moment of silence."
I exaggerated my laughter.
"Your just jealous cause you drive that piece of shit Grand Am."
Stop. Grand Am? I examined the ticket for the first time. Not the Honda. Of course.
Means this must have been a rouse to get close to me. No need to set that record straight. In fact, time to jet.
"Have a nice day." You loosely voiced in my direction.
I gave you the finger without turning around, to the chagrin of a women with a small child walking past me at that moment.
I put the ticket on the proper car but in my glee forgot to get your name off it.
I'm thinking maid outfit...French this time. Quarters at the ready...
N.
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