Eskiminzin Posted January 16 Posted January 16 He makes me up, his perfect doll Lipstick and rouge…streetwalker effect His perfect woman- 6’2, with faded Airborne ink and combat scars A veil to hide the shrapnel in my back when he takes the obligatory photographs… He shows me how I look in the blue screen of his phone… I find I love myself red haired, powdered, lips like ***… I pout, I blow false kisses… lick my lips in expectation Girlish, drunk on the champagne high of sex ascendant. Love myself more in the moment that his cock comes out Hard and red , rampant in the throes of my submission…. Drunk on me as I am on the moment…we are *** with each other Lost in night, in night consumed. The lipstick goes first, bleeds away on the flesh of of his prick which seeks my lungs… The rouge dissolves in the sweat of our undulations As we writhe like snakes an Ouroboros Conjoined at hips and ass and bucking wild The stars go dim against the light we throw… And this is holy…this is right… By the end we are ourselves again Not mattering who wears the collar two slaves to lust And I taste my ass upon his flesh And moan…love him there…against all odds As the night at last becomes perfection.
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