I craft mirrors that face mirrors. I can do this handmade with glass-shard scissors, and symmetrical blades, to point out your imperfections. And look into that mirrored-mirror war and see my reflection weapon expel endless seas of endless gore into an infinite mirrored hell.
Hungered by my innocence. I’m shaking, sweating, nervous of your lust by my presence. My innocence drives your motor, just a tease, what would happen if you dominate? Clothes had been taken off, his **** was standing hard as her pulse began to race. “Don’t be afraid, baby girl,” he said. She looked around the room darkness engulfing her. He held her wrists, teasing her delicious mouth as she lay in bed. He gently laid her back down, sucking on her breast until she moaned. He travelled down her body ’til the source of her wetness he found. She gasped as he licked and sucked her clit until it exploded in his face………….
For in dimensions, it does lack, the third and foremost of the pack. It will not kiss me on demand, it can not love me with a gentle hand. Torture me no more mirror. I don’t need pictures to show me how to see clearer. And if they burn as mine do now. You can’t say you used a picture to show you the way out. In 3-dimensions, can you clear, this burning which is so severe? And free me from the torments of, this raging 2-dimensional love.
Strip me bare until I wear nothing but vulnerability. Subdue me to your virile eyes, see me, save, take me to this blissful place. Enslave me to your will, enter me, command me, until I let go. I’d have her out of breath, if only she knew. I’ve never had a better view. Feeling her wet and hot, so sweet. This honey is truly unique. Pressure from my sweet juices are pushing you out. Hurry, you are just in time to catch me in your mouth. Like you’re stranded in the desert, you drank up all my juice. My legs tight around your neck, like you’re wearing a noose. I’m fighting to break free but, you won’t let me loose. Got that look in your eyes like you want a round two.
Aggression, is a session, is a desire that blazes fire. Is a fest, at its best. Aggression, becomes a passion. Aggression in your blood, in your vision, on a mission. Seven seconds of your passive aggression and I snap like a pencil lead on a bed, of bricks weighing me down because my 2-dimensional aggression turns into his 3-dimensional obsession.