Superficial Innocence

The answer, my Dear Will Crimson, to your very evocative reply on my Patio Season

I watch you watching me, as lust runs rampant across your face like the disturbance of maggots over rot. You scan my attributes and I imagine the path of your thoughts as sunshine cascades over me, giving the impression of softness and light. You have no idea of the darkness inside of me. The deep red gashes of violence have left my mind with bottomless chasms of despair and I look for the snap, the harsh jerk of retribution, as I am pushed or pulled up and down the cliff face of your desires.

I want you want to bend me, break me, use me, take me; make me your little fuck toy once the door is closed on the public exhibition of who I should be and create what you want. You have the access the others don’t have and as you notice them scenting after my sex, after noticing my body, my face; you want to mark your claim on me. Punish me for being exactly what you want because it makes other men rampant with fantasies, you get to enact.

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5 Responses to Superficial Innocence

  1. dievca says:

    Oh, my, what fun! 😀

  2. myarousal says:

    Plants lawn chair near said patio…..pops open a beer……sniffs the air for scent of a woman…….

  3. willcrimson says:

    I have spilled wine—fragments, colors, scents. When you are—a cunt (don’t think I don’t know) I think of the wine. The label, printed 1882, with the blood-red stains, I’ve kept. Château Pichon Longueville Baron. You haven’t been there? La’Fette was a covetous man. He noted the wine. Should I make comparisons? A woman like you–

    I beheaded the bottle, spilled the juice—than let another man taste it. I don’t keep toys. You, cunt in full bloom; the grape of your tits redolent; the liquor of your thighs thick and pungeant. I’ll break the seal than let you tempt another man. Break the bottle, spill the orgasm in your cunt, your mouth, your anus—stain you—stain you with my jealousy, foul you, violate you with the cock of it. Do you scream? Does the the tongue break from your mouth as though I strangled you, cock in cunt, fucking from behind?

    Pity the man. I’ll leave you like that. Ass stuck in the air. Cunt, lips and tongue cock-stained. Pity Bluebeard. I break the things I love.

  4. Pingback: Pity | The Erotic Writer

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