sábado, dezembro 15, 2012


On his lap I feel his instincts rubing against my insides, while, pressed around my throat, his hands force my body down to the base. I spot a drop of darkish red fluid on his lips, and I wonder whose blood is that... I try to taste my lips, try to find the souce of it with the tip of the fingers still tied in my own scarf, but my eyes are turning blurier, and I barely feel anything. It's ok - I think to myself... I wouldn't be able to scream anyway. It's better to just give in completely... and fade over the grace of his tense shoulders, like a solace to his sincere attempt.

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