Hii & Sex
We get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. I don’t know why but we get hii and we have sex. He’ll gnaw on my stomach or lick around my nipple. He’ll hold my leg up and kiss down my thigh. I don’t know why this completes me but we get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. Sometimes we’ll talk. We’ll have the best conversations in the world. Endless. We’ll discover new things and feel enlightened. I don’t know why this is all I need for the moment but we get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. We’ll listen to music. I’ll play Kendrick Lamar or Frank Ocean or Curren$y or Wiz or Kid Cudi or Ab-Soul. Stoners. Him and I are a black hippies. We’ll listen to each word of each song. Digest it’s meaning. I’ll write a piece for him maybe even about him. I don’t know why he feels intrigued by me but we get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. I’ll open up and let him in for as long as my hii last. He’ll feel important like he means something to me. But I sugar coat by it saying all we do is get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. We get hii and we have sex. I don’t know why I can’t see that we do more than get hii and we have sex.
