Well hi. I'm not really sure how these WitFits work, like if we're supposed to include the prompts in the drabbles or whatever, but I think I'll just write whatever pops into mind. Chapters will probably be longer than this. Probably. Hope you'll enjoy.
Sometimes I stare into my reflection in the bathroom mirror and ask myself what the fuck I'm thinking. I pull my hair and grind my teeth, but the reality is still there, and I'm fucked sideways to the moon if anyone finds out.
She's only sixteen years old.
It's so screamingly obvious; in the way she twirls her hair, the way she bites her lip and the way she giggles when I kiss her neck. In the way she looks when she's all dressed up in her little leotard and smiles at me from the stage when she twirls, twirls and twirls again.
But then again—she's not sixteen in the way she talks about our future and how I'll go to California next year for college and wait for her until she finishes high school, and she'll make me dinner every day because she'll be spending more time in my apartment than in her dorm.
She's not sixteen in the way she rolls her hips when she rides me, or the way she sucks in her cheeks when she goes down on me, or the way she curses as I lick her up. She's not sixteen in the way when I teasingly whisper:
"I'm gonna make sweet, sweet love to you, Honey B."
And she answers: "I'd rather you fuck me instead."