Social Sway by Anita Hotty - WordPress.com

cumquad elevenme was the blistering pink of my welled eggs. I felt loathing intomyself. I was a revulsion unworthy of her physical torture. She couldhave driven a rusted nail into my rocks because my internalizedcompliance had mind-warped itself into incomprehensible depths. Iwas changing. I was shedding myself.The slither of my snake bent to tickle my rascals. I numbed my skinin the stroke of my ache. I wished for her rake; her froth to cake asI blasted her my icing; for her degradation; any form of humiliation.But something she could see. Not this lonely flame. A hard acheinflamed.If only she knew my faithful unworthiness for her? If only she knewmy obedient devotion?I was shedding into something beyond myself. My balls pulsated anantagonistic attack of swears. My sworn oath to her was the joy thatthrilled me never enough. I took a needle to myself and acupuncturedmy voodoo healing. Black magic queen. She was a liar. A bitch. Mywicked vicious woman. Eyes of DeSade.“Fuuuuuuuuuu – uuuuuuuck!” I miseried her swing. Hammer harddown to hatch my sperm.“You fuck my mercy! You torment me! Satan fuck this ass-fuckedbitch I bow at! What could she bow-wow command me for? Green isonly my envy to bark loud – bark in silence – Anything! Cunt sucking!Bitch fucking! Spread my ass!”I dropped my gasconade so it slapped back at me. I took my handsto my cheeks and spread them for the pained rip. I pushed myselfagainst the suction on my wall. I felt it stuck in its pinch. My assholeclench only needed its coaxing. My thighs bared the weight as I cockedmyself in little nips, luring my plastic $149 into my awakening vortex.The ooze of cock penetrated the squish of my flesh-warmed corridor.I closed my eyes and pictured her there. She stood in her peek-a-booblue. I could see the blare of her hair as I yearned for my face to buryinto her wetness. My released hands swung to the front of myself. Isqueezed for the rush. I shook electrified. I scratched my functionallyunclipped nails at the prickles of my five o’clock shadows. My ownfears that only O’Nita could have instructed barren prevented a deepercut, but the blood lined itself into the dermis of my skin anyhow.I stroked my cock. I slapped it against my wall. I cried my torture.ISSY 194