1. Birds Of A Feather


    Date: 10/9/2015, Categories: Celebrities, First Time, Lesbian Sex, Author: bobcox69, Rating: 80, Source: xHamster

    much you'd relished it, and maybe that's why Beck punished you, gave you the time-out, because it wasn't venom in your voice that he heard, it was glee. You didn't want her to be dating someone, to be happy. You wanted her single, and you didn't want to explain why to yourself. You settled for wanting her to suffer, wanting her to be miserable, even though you know she's perfectly happy alone. You just didn't want to be jealous anymore. It's not that you want to date her. You love Beck, you do. She just...does something to you, something raw and physical. Like she's a nail and your hips are magnets, pulling towards her. There's an irresistible attraction, and maybe the old adage is true; opposites attract. But she's more like you than you care to admit, and maybe it's just narcissism at heart; maybe you're just seeing yourself in her, in the faintest shades. You just want to darken that blush, to bring her bl**d to the surface and see if it's the same colour as your own. To see if she really is a raven; she's just painted her feathers and changed her song. To show her that she's not better than you, that she's the same. So you can admit to yourself that sheisn't better, that she's not, because you feel like she is. That's why she scares you when she's around Beck; you're just waiting for him to see how much better she is, how well they fit together, how much nicer, and sweeter, and more compatible she is. People shun the raven. They always pick the parrot. You push it away ...
    every time you see her; that urge to just shove her against the wall, to make her say your name in a voice threaded with lust, but it's invading your mind more and more. It thrums through your body even when you're with Beck now, and if you narrow your eyes, blur them until all you see is his skin, you can almost pretend it's hers, that it's Tori sweating against you, and you've had to bite your lip to stop her name coming out more than once. The bell chimes and you tear your eyes away from her, shrugging Beck's arm off your shoulder. It's just physical, that's all. You admit that she's hot... how could you not? She's got curves that make you drool, that make your fingers itch to touch, to violate. You hate her for making you feel this way, you hate that she doesn't even realise what she does to you, that she doesn't feel how your eyes linger. She doesn't even notice how your voice changes, how it drops and drawls and takes on a lilting tone. Anything to get a reaction from her, anything to bring that look of outrage to her face, to see her hands curl into fists. Anything to prove she's like you. But she always preens her feathers back into place, lets her fists unclench, her face smooths out and slathers a smile across it. That frustrates you to no end; it only makes you want her more. You just want to see her break, to see the bone beneath her flesh, and find out if it's as rotten as your own. You pick at your lunch; a salad, prodding a limp leaf with your plastic fork. ...
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