Haha, no but seriously

The latest development in my Hipster Harlequin© series:

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The young campaigner straddles my waist with the confidence and guile of a Conquistador. He peels off his ‘Ron Paul Revolution 2012’ hoodie, revealing a masculine trail of hair leading down into his skinny jeans to his turgid groin, all topped with a rumpled Infringement Festival t-shirt.

“My, aren’t we the anarchist,” I smirk, my voice heavy with lust as I eye the impressive coil of muscle shifting in his pants. He laughs, stroking his lightly stubbled jaw conspiratorially, his head descending toward my milky breast. He hungrily claims a pert nipple with his mouth like an animal, maintaining steady eye contact all the while, burrowing into my soul. I gasp at the sharp pain, quickly followed by ripples of liquid heat under my skin’s surface. God, he’s beautiful. Jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, long eyelashes. A younger, straighter, more sinister personification of Jake Gyllenhaal. For a moment, I understand the sensual allure of Pan, the goat-god.

“I feel like you’re going to burn an A on my forehead while we fuck,” I utter, half as a statement, half as a question. “Like in ‘The Scarlet Letter’,” he chuckles, his eyes cast up from his work on my breasts, now covered with pink nip and bite marks. Batting his eyes at me, as if he’s merely stroking my knee, I feel his hand cup my mound, his palm pressing and squeezing me insistently through my yoga pants. He knows that I’m on my period; it’s been an issue of contention between us all night.

His eyes darken with mischief as his fingers delve into my panties, searching my face for a reaction. I grow nervous as he plays with me, but am quickly lost in the liquid heat rushing from my nipples directly to my sensitive clit. He withdraws his fingers, and we both see the blood. I bite my lip; he smiles. He brings his fingers up between us, his grin widening as he deftly draws a capital “A” above my left breast. “My little slut. My Hester Prynne.” I laugh, shocked and amazed at the perversion, … the novelty of what’s transpiring between me and this dirty, dirty boy. “We’ll probably both have to update our OKCupid questionnaires after this.”