all evening i was foolishly, i admit, ignoring the lines of her
lips, but when she let go off her third glass of wine, forgot about
all her decisions to be a good girl and pulled me towards her,
i finally understood the definition of “insatiable”.
an adjective i gladly use for myself when it comes to the tip of
her tongue escaping her mouth, how her breath warms my lips
and the way her hips react when i reach between her legs is
simply intoxicating.
every time she moves away, i know this dance by heart. sacrilegious
but oh so much fun, id make the borg proud. she is a shot of
fireball whiskey that burns my mouth, a hangover i promised myself
never ever ever ever EVER again
and dont we all know what we do with promises?