“Maurice,” I’ve asked myself, “how do you fuse that hopeless romantic side of yourself with the promiscuous one and still be a just entity?”
I’m thinking…
And thinking…
I’m still trying to come up with something…
The truth is: “I don’t know.”
I don’t know how to be romantically involved without giving in to my desire of compounding my sexual exploits. Half of the time I want to be a loyal man and lover; the other piece of my existence longs to ransack a smorgasbord of derriere like these–
https://gr8mouthreecee.files.wordpress.com/2018/06/images-12.jpg
to feast on them until I’m one gluttonous something. How can I exist in this world under such disarray?
Out In The Pacific:
Did I also mention that I’m a kamikaze pilot diving head first into your buoyant battleship, you now uninhibited piece of milk chocolate? I will be stuck in your hull until you fill up with the ocean and drown in your entire sea. What’s left is some water-damaged wreckage, my tainted soul. I warned you not to talk shit, didn’t I? Just like President Franklin Roosevelt antagonized the Japanese government, you’ve fucked with me verbally in a disrespectful manner. What did both of you expect? You’re going to get invaded!
Meanwhile At Seaside:
All Hell is upon your ass. I’m dropping oral bombs on you–the Anal and Cunnilingus ones, and you have nowhere to retreat to. Look at the mess I’ve made of your tail, you once sweet gal. Your body is a shattered mess running hither and thither to adapt to my facial madness and schemes. My throat produces moisture to add to your already soiled state to lubricate your hinny and all. Your corrupted self screams for me to continue my airborne assault. I’m loving the advancements my mouth has made in this attempt at overtaking you. I want your Pussy Land, the Ass one also. I have your battlefield in such disarray that your family is calling from all corners of the continental United States to see if you’re okay. You can’t answer, though because the lines are down. And you must remember, my berated piece, that I’m GEORGIA POWER REECIE. I got this. Soon enough, I will restore the scene. For now, I’m enjoying the uncertainty: you not knowing what to do during this troubling time. My head seems to be your anchor out in the middle of nowhere, and you’re holding onto me for dear life. Just look at you howling away like some wolf during the nighttime to my heralded cunnilingus investigation. I’m turning over vulvas and shit trying to figure out what object breached your ship’s side. I know a tongue caused the disruption, but not just any piece of oral flesh could cause so much damage. An ancient mouth had come up from the deep: a Prehistoric one.
I did say, “I’ve been licking on pussies and groceries–long before Jhene Aiko made eating at ass great again.”
So, this here is a great find. What are your detectives going to do about this discovery? Once the investigation is finished, are you going to donate my tongue to the Smithsonian?
© 2018 Maurice Lovell Wilson
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/8sl6ms/mf_just_keep_digging_around_dear_youll_definitely