I no longer feel love is a necessity and even if it were it remains elusive. Many lovers passed. They came they went and all I truly miss is playing good or bad girl long enough to get off. Get undressed, get on your knees, get wet for me, get ******. !Get ******! Lust leaves a softly pulsating crimson sheen behind my eyelids. Lust feels like when you have a blindfold on and you strain to peek through, to violate. Lust is Loves' true enemy. Lust takes without apology/lust punishes/lust is the arms I am taken in. I've never been the best at "please" but in Lust's wake I pout prettily saying "yes please, and thank you".