I'm a "Narcaholic."
I go to see him. He shoves his dick down my throat. I don't even come up for air. He tells me that I'm "not girlfriend material." I leave only when I must, and return for more as soon as I possibly can.
"Call me, whenever," he says as I leave.
He doesn't mean it though. He doesn't care.
I wish I didn't care either.
1 comment:
Sweetie...this all makes me so incredibly sad. You deserve so much better, but you have to make it so.
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