Crash, dreaming of Taylor

You remember, in the night, her tempestuous eyes. Her harsh judgement, the way that she seemed to have no interest in kindness or decency, but just in winning. It's easy to latch onto that, to be consumed by it. And in the night you can't help but be. As you think of Taylor, you think of what would happen if she applied that enthusiasm to your mouth, with her lips, and then lower, to your cock. What would sex be like with a girl who is never willing to fail? Who is determined to be the best that you have ever had.

Holy shit, you think, as you wake up at midnight. She is in my head.

You groan and turn over. Hoping that you will dream of something, anything else. You aren't so lucky.

Your problem in coming here was that you had a hard time defining yourself. Now you've met the polar opposite. A person who knows who they are and pursues it to the brutal exclusion of anything else. You hope, against hope, that you will not be devoured alive.