Not everyone I know has the moral freedom to separate lust from love, let alone from friendship. Lust seems to be held in such strict connection with emotional entanglements, that it can only be so confortably indulged once veiled underneath the cloths of "decency" or "secrecy". Well, I don't have the patience. How could I? My body is a bestial deity, demanding sacrifice on the spot. My brain is nothing but a vicious power house ran by billions of its minions. There is no solace after rebelion. Not for me.
Sex is an impulse as vital as the striking first breath after a deep dive.
Yet... It's anything but vulgar.
As I walked around the bar, bursting with anxiety, trumpets anounced glory comming from afar.
And for the love of all that's sacred... She was dressed in red.
And for the love of all that's sacred... She was dressed in red.
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