There she is, Molly Rose Lenae. Light brown with a dark shade of red in it; amber is the color of her hair. Also, faded blonde streaks lay straight through it. It's natural. She is all natural. Her skin glows white. To the touch its soft and lustful. Encountering no more than 120 pounds, barely reaching 5'4, her waist, easily a 0. Long hair that ends where her seductive curve begins. Shady gray colored dark blue eyes, like the color of the sky during a light storm. She carries a small nose, its cute, because tiny freckles run down it onto the side of her cheeks. For being the most flawless lady I have ever laid eyes on she can hold a vast aesthetic smile for some one with small lips.
We met at the store merely two years ago. . . I remember it perfectly. She was in lane ten searching for chocolate chip cookies carrying a basket with only a few goods in it. I remember seeing twizzlers. I went down that lane for. . . I don't remember. Not after I hawked eyed her.
How Molly copped my attention is why I wanted to know her. She was wearing a yellow sundress with black polka dots on it. Black sandals with yellow glossy jewels, a shinny yellow bracelet with a black bow that kept her hair in a ponytail. Without a ring or necklace, I could tell she was a lonely individual.
When she departed the store that day I immediately dropped my goods to follower her out, getting her license plate number. Shortly finding out we lived in the same town, I moved two blocks down from her. Slowly. . . I started to know Molly.
Molly is an accountant. Every Wednesday she comes to this coffee shop after work. Gets a hot chocolate and two sugar donuts, sits down at a table and does whatever on her laptop. I have always wanted to talk to her. I get anxious even thinking about seeing her eye to eye.
Not anymore! I've finally built up the confidence to ask her out. It took forever but I would camp out in my car for hours waiting. . . just to see her. I found curiosity by the fact that Molly used the front door for mail, guests, or to let her cat out. But only used the back door to leave. I did what any man would have done, go to the back door for conclusion.
As expected, it was locked. I tried observing for a key but could not ascertain one. I tried many ways to get the door unlocked but nothing seemed to work. Anger poured over, leaving me soaked with disappointment. My frustration came out by pounding on the door. A quiet ringing then rang through my ears. I stopped. . . so did the ringing.
I continued to pound and pound and pound until the crescendo completely stopped. My eye caught it, falling. . . from the top ledge of the door. Looking down at it, I quickly gathered two ideas as a rewarding smile creepinly approached. A different image ran through my head once I picked it up, so. . . I went and made my own copy. I started to know everything about Molly. Too quickly.
I know what shampoo she uses, what food she likes, where she goes shopping, and that she admires owls. Her Garfield cat is named Willis, that's what the collar said anyway. Her house, I call it my own since I take care of her dishes, sweep her floors and fed Willis. Figured it was the least I could do since I own my own key.
I would welcome myself to her bras and underwear, always having a fresh lilac aroma. Smelling her perfume, I also put her toothbrush in my mouth if my sexual desire aroused over me. Tasting the mint that was once in hers was. . .only a tease. I desired more.
Going to Molly's at night, just to pleasure myself to her lustful face. If that day I knew I wanted to go, I would lace her tea while she was at work. I have terrified, what if she doesn't drink tea today? I take my chances.
Standing over her I would stroke her smooth hair, pet her soft cheeks, touching her only from the neck up. I've had many attempts to do whatever I pleased to her unconscious body, I'm not that type of person.
