(no subject)
If you and I were in an animated postcard, we would be a newly wed couple driving up a mountain road in our cute little beattle one midsummer afternoon.
You would be driving and I would be bored out of my mind fiddling with the radio knobs and humming tunelessly. The car would makes a sharp turn and we would have a full frontal view of the ocean melting into the sky, painted with streaks of burnished sunset gold.
I would wear a little white dress, stocking that keep on sliding down, and perhaps a silk scarf over my messy locks. Your face would be all serious and pouty, and I would reach over to wipe a little chocolate stain from the corner of your lip.
You keep watching the road as I kiss your neck softly, lightly at first, playfully and then a little more forcefully, suckling a tender earlobe.
You resist, you don't turn towards me. I reach up and you close your eyes involuntarily, letting my lips ghosts over your eyelashes. And the next thing we know, I am holding you and screaming and we are falling off a cliff off to the side of the road.
You would be driving and I would be bored out of my mind fiddling with the radio knobs and humming tunelessly. The car would makes a sharp turn and we would have a full frontal view of the ocean melting into the sky, painted with streaks of burnished sunset gold.
I would wear a little white dress, stocking that keep on sliding down, and perhaps a silk scarf over my messy locks. Your face would be all serious and pouty, and I would reach over to wipe a little chocolate stain from the corner of your lip.
You keep watching the road as I kiss your neck softly, lightly at first, playfully and then a little more forcefully, suckling a tender earlobe.
You resist, you don't turn towards me. I reach up and you close your eyes involuntarily, letting my lips ghosts over your eyelashes. And the next thing we know, I am holding you and screaming and we are falling off a cliff off to the side of the road.