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I want to believe in the radical acceptance of cosmic madness stripping me down into such a pure vessel of pleasure,
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now a hint of smile in hysteria, broken toys make such good submissives when they play the role so well, don’t they? The subtle push and pull of your incessant waning, waxing poetic without the decency to shine in authentic light.
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sweetly entertaining and delightfully submissive so wonderfully seductive, won’t you feel all around such luscious prizes hands squeezing meticulously deeper in smooth skin
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control is gifted to those who can yield its power, its massive weight of dextrous complexities gliding in and out of webs so silkily tied behind endless facades.
