𝔐𝔶 𝔈𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔬𝔢𝔱𝔯𝔶 ℑ'𝔪 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱.
Look deep in my eyes.
"Hun, you don't have to be shy..."
Gut my insides,
and fuck me 'till I'm high.
Spit on my slick, Southern sky.
Pulsating, toes curled on my feet.
Make it a fic, come and enter my warm heat.
Buy them restraints,
and come and lick my taint.
Pull my hair and call me a whore,
that's all, and I'll be at your door.
I'll smile at you all sweet and shit
but you'll throw me on the floor and start hittin' it.
I'm getting close now,
shove my clit all over that snout.
Baby, just mess me up.
Pound down on my little cunt,
find my G-spot, like a hunt
Baby, eat this porridge
and slurp up my clitoris.
But 'member, don't burn your tongue,
that'll ruin all the fun.
Put them hands on my waist
last guy fucked me bad, cold case.
Damn, this is just straight-up lust;
I'll grind and you just thrust.
C'mon, this pussy don't scratch
you can fuck me, no strings attached.
I know I'm the preacher's daughter, "I'm so good!"
But you can fuck me 'till I'm cummin' blood.
Montaré tu caballo
Si golpeas mi coño.
(If the lines seem off, it's because I stole them from some lyrics I wrote a few days ago.)
