I can taste the fear on the ridged bumps on her neck
Wherever my mouth may wander her body responds, calculating, anticipating and waiting for my touch.
Hands find themselves sculpting an already existing figure that has been idolized and worshiped long before you, but its smolder never fades.
What is poison to the touch stings in the right sort of way
And what is venomous to the mind fills it with thoughts of pleasure and dismay,
All refining into a single drop, a love drug capable of destroying me, but who cares because I need it, please.
Her teeth caress my lower lip, teasing what a thousand knives could really do if they tried
for when the pure rush filters through me and a fog of raw ecstasy clouds my vision,
I give myself up to her, to show me what the odd and the upside down are capable of.
In her control, flesh becomes cavernous and the once supple skin of her lilac body is marked red so she may show her sins, dirty, dirty girl.
Her body is the Cult
Curvature that is explored like a vast mountainous path is also home to her darkest secrets,
Fears I want to manipulate, feed and also seek pleasure from.
