| Author: | Emily Dickinson | ISBN: | 9781311478207 |
| Publisher: | Emily Dickinson | Publication: | May 28, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Emily Dickinson |
| ISBN: | 9781311478207 |
| Publisher: | Emily Dickinson |
| Publication: | May 28, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
There was a time when I wasn’t so distraught and depressed. There was a time when I could get any woman in the world. All I had to do was walk by them and their panties or thongs would have fallen right off their smooth shaven legs, and I simply would suggest taking the party back to my place, and they’d follow me with anticipation and ease.
My abode was perfect.
I lived above the city, on the outskirts with a view that was certain to make any woman wet, and there I was, next to them, feeding them red wine, massaging their backs, whispering in their ears about how beautiful they were, and explaining that there is no heaven or hell and when we die we actually die, so we should be in love in this moment – oh, cheesy, you say, but it worked like a charm.
Those women would turn around, look me in the eyes, and suction their lips right on mine. I’d wait a few more pecks before passionately returning the kiss, and when they felt my zealous passion, they would drop the wine glass – don’t worry, those glasses weren’t my expensive ones (these ones were made solely for this purpose – being thrown out) – and wrap their arms around me, and then that’s when I shove my tongue into theirs, exploring their perfect mouth with my tongue.
I would, forcefully, throw my wine glass away, giving off the intention that “who the fuck cares about wine when there’s you in front of me” feeling, and by God, they’d eat it up, like steak and eggs for breakfast, which is also what I made every morning for them.
There was a time when I wasn’t so distraught and depressed. There was a time when I could get any woman in the world. All I had to do was walk by them and their panties or thongs would have fallen right off their smooth shaven legs, and I simply would suggest taking the party back to my place, and they’d follow me with anticipation and ease.
My abode was perfect.
I lived above the city, on the outskirts with a view that was certain to make any woman wet, and there I was, next to them, feeding them red wine, massaging their backs, whispering in their ears about how beautiful they were, and explaining that there is no heaven or hell and when we die we actually die, so we should be in love in this moment – oh, cheesy, you say, but it worked like a charm.
Those women would turn around, look me in the eyes, and suction their lips right on mine. I’d wait a few more pecks before passionately returning the kiss, and when they felt my zealous passion, they would drop the wine glass – don’t worry, those glasses weren’t my expensive ones (these ones were made solely for this purpose – being thrown out) – and wrap their arms around me, and then that’s when I shove my tongue into theirs, exploring their perfect mouth with my tongue.
I would, forcefully, throw my wine glass away, giving off the intention that “who the fuck cares about wine when there’s you in front of me” feeling, and by God, they’d eat it up, like steak and eggs for breakfast, which is also what I made every morning for them.
