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He catches me in lovin-- *liking him* and it's always striking how my body acts on whim. He always looks the best not wearing any clothes, makes my ***** point west with their ***** woes. He makes me think in lovely and dresses me in kisses: purple, black, red and bruised up kisses (he never misses). I have a necklace ringing all around my skinny neck, I wear his love like a trophy, do I look a-wreck? I make him wreck my body night after night after night because I want his gaudy, pale and beautiful might to come down all at once and bury me in flesh; to fill my ears with grunts and turn my soil threshed. Thresh me, thresh me hard, my beautiful man, my body's prettier marred with your harmattan breezes blowing on my sands; how I really, really, really like my man because he buries me in hugging and hides me in his warmth; he always has me shrugging the yeses from up north in the epicenter of all pleasure rooted in my mind; it's the greatest measure of our loving time. He spanks me 'til I moan, I **** him 'til he's dry, his touch turns me to stone and his stroking makes me cry. Though it may be sore after a day or so my heart is always hurting from the constant flow of his body's beautiful fluids, white and clear and true; who needs a beautiful blue when I have my like, my really, really, really like; it's better than number two. (I really, really, really like you)
0
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 5:00 AM UTC
He catches me in loving
He catches me in lovin-- *liking him* and it's always striking how my body acts on whim. He always looks the best not wearing any clothes, makes my ***** point west with their ***** woes. He makes me think in lovely and dresses me in kisses: purple, black, red and bruised up kisses (he never misses). I have a necklace ringing all around my skinny neck, I wear his love like a trophy, do I look a-wreck? I make him wreck my body night after night after night because I want his gaudy, pale and beautiful might to come down all at once and bury me in flesh; to fill my ears with grunts and turn my soil threshed. Thresh me, thresh me hard, my beautiful man, my body's prettier marred with your harmattan breezes blowing on my sands; how I really, really, really like my man because he buries me in hugging and hides me in his warmth; he always has me shrugging the yeses from up north in the epicenter of all pleasure rooted in my mind; it's the greatest measure of our loving time. He spanks me 'til I moan, I **** him 'til he's dry, his touch turns me to stone and his stroking makes me cry. Though it may be sore after a day or so my heart is always hurting from the constant flow of his body's beautiful fluids, white and clear and true; who needs a beautiful blue when I have my like, my really, really, really like; it's better than number two. (I really, really, really like you)
this shouldn't feel so long ago.
hands
Written by
hands
Lebanese
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 5:00 AM UTC
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