Sunday, 11 December 2016

well fuck

Her curves of soft flesh and bruised scars, warm blood and hot hands. Her breath quickens as she unbuttons her pink pajamas. A pearl though impure, scared and used she wishes to feel clean for you. Lips parted with words unsaid, head spinning through thoughts misread. She moves towards you with an uneasy grace and insecure smile on a delicate face. Tired eyes and dry mouths, awake and wet. Needing and craving for the tingling and sweet pain you give her. As you move in her she whispers and moans, in her sleep she mutters and groans. “Touch me, feel me, breathe me, move me, hold me, save me”

No comments:

Post a Comment