Spent the whole damn afternoon in the library trying to sketch. Couldn't focus for shit. Kept thinking about that time in the back alley behind the record store, pinned against the brick wall with a hand over my mouth. The way the cold grit scraped my back while his cock was fucking me raw... fuck. That mix of almost getting caught and being totally owned just does something to my brain. Now I'm just lying here in bed, hard as fuck and wishing I was someone's problem instead of doing this history reading. This textbook is a lot less interesting than the bruises he left.