19 February 2013

Bloody Lips

Turn my brain off. 
Wrap your fingers in my hair and shut down my mind. No more thinking, weighing, analyzing, judging. Just the painful weight of my body hanging by my hair from your hands as you remind me what, in this place, I am. 
Just the musky scent of your arousal against my face, the painful mashing of my lips and jaw against your zipper, hard enough to cut my lips and leave tiny spots of blood on the front of your pants. I wonder how, back at work, you will explain that. Will you tell them you cut yourself? Wrap a bandaid on your hand for verisimilitude? Or will you just tell them that you pressed a woman's face to your cock hard enough to cut her lips on your zipper?

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I am just your ordinary average every day sane psycho supergoddess