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Class of '87 By Ellen Tevault

Walking into my old high school's restroom, I saw the homecoming queen.
She smiled and said, "Weren't you?"

"Yes," I said, watching her reapply lipstick I wanted to nibble off.

She smiled, and I smiled at her reflection as if I'd known she'd been watching.

"Still have a crush?"

I opened my mouth for words to magically appear.
She kissed me, and I cupped her ass,
lifted her onto the sink and drilled my fingers into her wetness.

I heard our class song from the gym and sighed, knowing my first crush was on the verge of an orgasm.