Yearning

I yearn for her touch. I long for it. Dream of it. Slowly entice the juice from my cunt as I touch myself to thoughts of her. Unsavoury thoughts. Forbidden thoughts. She is the fruit set down by Satan to tempt me into wicked sin.

She is the ripe, juicy apple and I am desperate to have a bite, to sink my teeth deeply into her flesh and devour every inch of her perfect form. To feast on her meat and drink her sweetness as it seeps from her core.

Such beauty. Such evil beauty. She makes me hungry, greedy…wicked with every deadly sin as my fingers dance around my body, pinching and pulling, slipping and sliding. I scratch myself, my fingernails causing my skin to pucker into bumps as I shiver for her. My pussy weeps, muscles clenching as she works me into a frenzy.

This is what I do at night when I want to escape to worlds fantastic. I think of her. Whoever she is. A faceless angel. A sneering devil. A woman so wicked that I cannot help but love her completely. She sees me, through the granite and stone, and notices the potential inside. The potential to be something more…something soft…something sensual…something sexual. An adorable playmate.

But do I dare dip my toe into this big new world? I am scared, a shrinking violet, a rabbit caught in headlights, blinded by the sights of hedonism and debauchery. Bravery or cowardice…? I’m yet to decide.

 

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