luxdivon

the muse has taken her for a swing
lying on a bed, sweater clung to her breasts
as panties lie low around the curve of her
hips, hiding, tantilizing temptations
of waters in her mouth, and so many other ways to slide deep, with mouths on each others, and hands tingling. trembling. warm, and hard, strong with the delicate touch of such a bittersweet taste.
brushing hair out of her eyes, right before its being tangled, and clothes torn to pieces, her love has to ache for more than just everything, and everything, and all the energy in the world that's just lying there right between us. time is such a precious thing, as trust leads to perversion of innocence, in walking on hands and knees, and being everything you'd please for, and giving your lover food to taste, before you spoon, and he has you again, on floors, and countertops, and then has his hands tenderly around hairs on your pretty head. tied up-down, corset bound, as you ask for his hands around your neck, and kissing hands all over each other, not taking each other for granted for once. before a prelude full of candles, and guitar strumming as the keys of a piano dance in her head, and the key to the lock around her chest, as you're laying naked in a bath full of something sweet, and its cold and your tits couldn't get any harder, and you love the goosebumps, as hush and love are mired before fucking and the dive deep into voracious hours that feel like minutes, as you wake in lust and ask for violence. taste the drug of your skin, and bathe in blissful sins of forbidden skins touching too many places to begin.

what can i say, i was inspired.