fascistprincess

I enjoy my mother but I am not positive as to whether she is good or bad. Just some days ago she lied to me about a dear thing. I did not like it as I lie very little these days, and it was not the the correct thing one should chose to perform a lie about if one felt that they should. I have to finish a dress tonight and write many stories before the sun screams at me in the window. Thought the photos of the monkey girl-Sarah gorgeous; I played upset with her a small time back because she is being a glamorous movie girl and I want her here now adornong my cock with her caged mouth of reward. It is astonishing the way I lean toward her in bed as she is doing sleep and she shoves her sweating hot skin all over my bones shivering. She jumps at the graze of my cold hands. Possibly I will not have the cock in her mouth because God knows there is not a time that exists for a cock sucking and stories and dresses; so, no, I will not be able to find the time, but I can birth it for the suffocating damp warmth that is the girl-Sarah's mouth. I may just bite her already sore cunt a bit, and whisper a zephyr at her twirling nervous clit. These sort of things may sleep her. My eyelids keep shutting. This pussy speak has the narcotique effect of lullaby language. I must be ascetic and deny in order to work. Sex subverts art.