You’re a candied treat and everything you secrete is sweet. There’s no confliction or sin in my addiction to your brown sugar skin, ‘cause I lust for that high-sucrose-rush your love is known to gush. I’m a fiend of this Burmese butterscotch queen. I feel “sugar high” when you’re by my side and I haste to hold you by the waist ‘cause your voice is just like how syrup taste. You’re perfectly bitesize and your honey-dripping thighs widen my eyes. You cause my heart to quake and I spill my milkshake over your butter pecan short cakes. When I have you there’s no limits, I eat you like someone bet me I couldn’t. I won’t stop until my teeth rot, or diabetes takes me out. ‘Cause you got me strung-out.
Published by OliviousMaximus
The rambunctious and scandalous semantic-loving-romantic, one that challenges thoughts, sequesters hearts and feeds bodies to the mattress. View all posts by OliviousMaximus