Aphrodisiacal
By Mene Tekel
·BACK
I want her delicate eyes; I want to gaze into them and lose myself in their calm beauty and astonishing depth.
I want her smooth lips to sweetly caress with my own, to taste her voice.
I want her hair, long, sweet and flowing over me; the length of her life all over me, my clothes and my bedroom.
And if I can't have it, I will take it.
I want her hands and fingers, her delicate soft touch, her silky embrace wrapping and squeezing around me.
I want her ears and nose, to have her senses captivated by my voice and my scent.
I want her breasts, supple and fine, mine alone to caress.
I want her smooth, delicate skin, covering her like silky sheets; I want to run my fingers over her in every possible way.
And if I can't have it, I will take it.
I want her legs and ass, fine and smooth, mine alone to embrace.
I want her small imperfect feet, twisted and worn, but mine alone.
I want her mind, always mutely tuned into thoughts of me.
And if I cannot have it, I will take it.
I want her heart, incessantly pumping and driving her life, now throbbing with passion for me.
And if I cannot have it, I will take it.
I want her teeth, pure white pearls, her very smile, flashing at me.
I want her bones, every achy inch of cartilage and calcium, her very structure, all around me.
I want her muscles, each attractive and weak ligament and appendage, the jigsaw puzzle of her every subtle movement.
I want her blood, the crimson fluid of her life, every ounce of it, beautiful and alive, flushing through her for me.
I want her life.
And if I cannot have it, I will take it.
