Stop Playing!

Stop disguising yourself as some prude little lady; I know just what your doctor prescribed, dear crazy.

I’m someone that wants to hoist your legs in the air and feed on your anticipating derriere plus your wet hair.

I’m trying to stare into your temptress eyes while I’m having my way with you in between your plump thighs.

I’m trying to have you reaching for the air and trying to grab ahold of what’s not there.

Does this sound like something that you’d crave in your near future, you deceptive creature?!

Or, are you going to continue on with the facade/charade and pretend as though you don’t want your bottom slayed.

Because: I’m only for uninhibited seductresses that want to taste at my quivering lips. The introductions and pleasantries: let’s just skip.

I’m not that beating-around-the-bush guy. Upon you entering my abode (or me yours), it’s straight to a bobbing breast, I’m heading for.

I’m going to thrust it in my chocolate mouth — that southern hospitality — that’s what I’m talking bout.

A little bit of my saliva will soak the surface of one areola and then your perky nipple. I bet now, your once prude ass isn’t fickle.

You’re now a moaning and sighing nutcase ready to be taken advantage of; you’re now a delicacy on my oral hotplate.

And, I’m not going to devour my dish rapidly; I’m going to savor it like a feral cat does a mousey.

My tongue has a way of overpowering the most headstrong woman. Wouldn’t you say so, my little hoe?

I think so because…

It’s off with your clothes you go.

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