Waking to you in the crook of my arm;
the smell of us lingers in the crime scene
of our room.
This must be the place
Wigs and corsets,
empty bottles and riding crops.
Sugar and sweat,
cologne and *******
Good morning sugar
Eyes flutter and lips part
as juices flow and bloods boil.
This wet and wordless union
knows no boundaries.
We are one, now
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
Waking to you in the crook of my arm;
the smell of us lingers in the crime scene
of our room.
This must be the place
Wigs and corsets,
empty bottles and riding crops.
Sugar and sweat,
cologne and *******
Good morning sugar
Eyes flutter and lips part
as juices flow and bloods boil.
This wet and wordless union
knows no boundaries.
We are one, now
