(no subject)
This is visual lip service. Words caress soft skin and curves. Sin spills forth like molasses from her lips. God I love it when she lets her makeup run. She's laughing but she looks like she's been crying . . .
She's going to use me.
Again.
Heads roll back against feather pillows. Gulping for air in the dense heat. The room doesn't move.
Whispers of oh my god . . . remind me why I do this.
She's going to use me.
Again.
Heads roll back against feather pillows. Gulping for air in the dense heat. The room doesn't move.
Whispers of oh my god . . . remind me why I do this.