She didn't have a glide or stride when she entered my sight,
Straight from my peripheral like she was new material,
That she was,
Skin so dark it bounced off the moonlight,
Eyes bright and eager filled with determination...
That I would steal right from under her feet,
Determined to hide her counter parts so that the third eye couldn't see,
Nor the two that was plain to me,
Only under one circumstance would I let you bring the pain to me,
Stolen objects usually end up in a fist fight,
In my case a fist flight,
So far up until I can twiddle my fingers until her heart cums,
From one side to the other I fist my way into some lenient trouble,
I tickle her until the moon turns into a rebel and faces his enemy the sun,
I then took it slow and asked her for a favor,
A favor I will someday return,
She replied with an ecstatic yes,
However you would like,
This favor contained her being present,
In front of me like your sitting on a throne,
A throne of power beyond what I can see,
The power of the vagina holds a lot of weight,
So excuse me in advance if I make it too heavy,
And if I make it too light direct my hands,
And if that's not enough direct my mind,
Help me sculpt your pussy,
So that when they dig our bodies up two thousand years from now,
They will have proof that Goddesses existed,
They may not have proof of you choking on your words but they will bow to a Freelancer and a sculpter...
To be continued...
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