01-24-2011, 04:36 AM
I’m so hot . . . I need it . . . fuck my pussy.
. . . love the way your cock tears into me.
I’m dripping . . . I’m so wet . . . tear my cunt apart!
Can you hear it? I hear it . . . love the sound of you fucking me, ( tss, tss, tss) . . . oh, sweetheart.
Later that day he composed a poem for her.
He wrote of her beauty and virtues and quoted her outcries like a reporting voyeur.
She accepted the poem smiling, happy,
and said with an ironic giggle that she hoped the poem would be mawkish, sappy.
He did not get the result he expected;
her smile gone,her face infected
(with anger): I DON’T APPROVE OF THE C WORD!
But . . . You said . . . I heard—
I’m a lady . . . I HATE THAT WORD . . . !
What?
WHAT!
. . . love the way your cock tears into me.
I’m dripping . . . I’m so wet . . . tear my cunt apart!
Can you hear it? I hear it . . . love the sound of you fucking me, ( tss, tss, tss) . . . oh, sweetheart.
Later that day he composed a poem for her.
He wrote of her beauty and virtues and quoted her outcries like a reporting voyeur.
She accepted the poem smiling, happy,
and said with an ironic giggle that she hoped the poem would be mawkish, sappy.
He did not get the result he expected;
her smile gone,her face infected
(with anger): I DON’T APPROVE OF THE C WORD!
But . . . You said . . . I heard—
I’m a lady . . . I HATE THAT WORD . . . !
What?
WHAT!