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I write verbose posts about polyamory, love, lust, and self-discovery on my other blog Victoria's Imaginarium.

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Your fingers and mouth burned holes in my skin

I'm obsessed, I'm so obsessed. With the thoughts of how your whispers would sound. How your caresses would feel. It's frustrating how the more I can't have you, the more I can't stop thinking, imagining, fantasizing about you, every minute, every second. Twenty four seven. I'm not obsessed. I'm possessed.

Why wouldn't you want me? Why wouldn't you want what I have to offer? Lies, all lies. Screw your ego, screw morality, just screw everything and tell me, look me in the eyes and tell me, tell me how much you have wanted me since you first laid your eyes on me, tell me how I mess with your head, tell me how good a temptress I am, tell me how I get your loin burning in fire. Tell me. Kiss my lips with force sink your teeth into my skin thrust yourself deeply into my body. Make me climax while calling out your name, penetrate me with your intense stare as I tear. Unleash all your urges, and penetrate me.

Please abuse me. I'm begging.