210 cell
types, all infused with throbbed lust. Wheeze as if dying, and slobber
rapacious red thirst. Quivered pink apertures salivate, even in slumber,
for candy behind glass, cash wads tucked into denim, and warm flesh calling silken
siren songs from blue rayon cliffs. Strained jester scepters serpent moist
caves like bullets projected through steely black chambers. Oh fire! Oh sinew!
Ride on!
Hungry
tongues that hang, warm and bodiless, in the cold evening air, beg and cajole
to worm the tickly dermis, and light the sacred mental torches at all 4 corners
of the bone helm altar. Prometheus krumps naked on a writhen meaty platform
held by 400 tan Greek bodies; slithering, heat distorted serpents of Eden.
Forbidden Pandora fruit drips with sugary sweat. Whole of the body
shivers and moans. Weakness masquerades as power behind the spellbound eye, and
the mouse falls over the lion to feast on its mighty girth. Oh pleasure! Oh
pain! Ride sweet on waves of hot, wet blood.
Life
laced with deathwish. Time trickled from erect pink n*****s. Ice of civility
melts away for an explosive moment, and the wolves take charge of the night.
Howl with me upon nimbus sheets. Squirm with me upon this flawless imperfection.
Touch the flame. We’ll let it lick us dry, and char our bones into glorious
spirits; ash upon the breeze of a breathy forever. Oh fire! Oh soul! Ride on!
Ride hard!