Status: based on the 1975 song.
Sex
1975
And this is how it starts.
You take your shoes off in the back of my van and I can't help but lean back, watch you, and damn it if my shirt doesn't look so good when it's just hanging off your back. You climb over to my lap and my hands find your hips, round and my grip is perfect on them, milky white skin brushing against my palms.
And you say, "Use your hands in my spare time," you grin as you lean over me and your lips kiss mine. "We got one thing in common; this tongue and mine."
We fuck and it's so nice. You feel tight and hot and I can barely breathe by the time you start panting above me. The rhythm shakes the van and I'm about to blow my load when I force myself to think.
You've got a boyfriend anyway.
It's only minutes before I drop you off and all we seem to do is talk about sex. You're wearing my shirt and that's my underwear, too. The breeze feels nice of my bare chest and the cigarette I keep hanging on to doesn't have enough nicotine to keep me from kissing you over and over again, sucking on your tongue and getting my hand between your legs.
You've got a boyfriend anyway. She's got a boyfriend anyway.
"I loved your friend," I tell you, and you frown a little as your turn your head on my bed. "When I saw his film," I explain with a grin. "He's got a funny face."
You laugh.
"But I like that, cause he still looks cool," I crack.
She's got a boyfriend anyway. You've got a boyfriend anyway.
And now we're on the bed in my room and I'm about to fill his shoes since he's gone for the weekend and your bed is right there but you say no. You keep saying no. I'm confused and angry and offended all at once and five minutes later I'm fucking you on your knees and I'm pulling on your hair.
"Does he take care of you?" I breathe on your ear.
I could easily fill his shoes but you say no.
You say no.
I'm gone on Sunday, and Thomas says I should stop seeing you at all, not even as friends but how well has that worked for us? You're selfish and I'm in love, that's all I can truly see from all of this.
But now we're just outside of town and you're making your way down with those fuck-me knee boots and your eyes as red as your underwear. I'm high and all I can think of are five words that keep repeating themselves in my head, because you aren't the only one that made me think of them.
She's got a boyfriend anyway. You've got a boyfriend anyway.
"I'm not trying to stop you, love," I grin when you fall on my lap. "but if we're gonna do anything we might as well just fuck."
She's got a boyfriend, anyway. She's got a boyfriend anyway.
You've got your tongue pierced anyway. You and your high tops anyway. You and your skinny jeans, anyway. You and your fit friends anyway. I'd take them all out anyway. They all got back combs anyway.
You've got a boyfriend anyway.
You take your shoes off in the back of my van and I can't help but lean back, watch you, and damn it if my shirt doesn't look so good when it's just hanging off your back. You climb over to my lap and my hands find your hips, round and my grip is perfect on them, milky white skin brushing against my palms.
And you say, "Use your hands in my spare time," you grin as you lean over me and your lips kiss mine. "We got one thing in common; this tongue and mine."
We fuck and it's so nice. You feel tight and hot and I can barely breathe by the time you start panting above me. The rhythm shakes the van and I'm about to blow my load when I force myself to think.
You've got a boyfriend anyway.
It's only minutes before I drop you off and all we seem to do is talk about sex. You're wearing my shirt and that's my underwear, too. The breeze feels nice of my bare chest and the cigarette I keep hanging on to doesn't have enough nicotine to keep me from kissing you over and over again, sucking on your tongue and getting my hand between your legs.
You've got a boyfriend anyway. She's got a boyfriend anyway.
"I loved your friend," I tell you, and you frown a little as your turn your head on my bed. "When I saw his film," I explain with a grin. "He's got a funny face."
You laugh.
"But I like that, cause he still looks cool," I crack.
She's got a boyfriend anyway. You've got a boyfriend anyway.
And now we're on the bed in my room and I'm about to fill his shoes since he's gone for the weekend and your bed is right there but you say no. You keep saying no. I'm confused and angry and offended all at once and five minutes later I'm fucking you on your knees and I'm pulling on your hair.
"Does he take care of you?" I breathe on your ear.
I could easily fill his shoes but you say no.
You say no.
I'm gone on Sunday, and Thomas says I should stop seeing you at all, not even as friends but how well has that worked for us? You're selfish and I'm in love, that's all I can truly see from all of this.
But now we're just outside of town and you're making your way down with those fuck-me knee boots and your eyes as red as your underwear. I'm high and all I can think of are five words that keep repeating themselves in my head, because you aren't the only one that made me think of them.
She's got a boyfriend anyway. You've got a boyfriend anyway.
"I'm not trying to stop you, love," I grin when you fall on my lap. "but if we're gonna do anything we might as well just fuck."
She's got a boyfriend, anyway. She's got a boyfriend anyway.
You've got your tongue pierced anyway. You and your high tops anyway. You and your skinny jeans, anyway. You and your fit friends anyway. I'd take them all out anyway. They all got back combs anyway.
You've got a boyfriend anyway.