Submit your passivity to me.
Your requisite passive yet feminine nature brushes up gently against my masculine dominance in our symphony of angry lust.
It’s a beautiful orchestra to witness live.
People who have sex according to the old definition I fear are missing out on one of life’s best-kept secrets. And the worst part?
The worst part is that many of them genuinely love each other and have no idea how they could be so much closer.
Painted with a broad brush of societal deviancy, many good people who wish to remain good never get to understand the magnitude of passion when all emotional walls are removed. And yes, that includes anger.
Slap you right across the motherfucking face and stare angst into your eyes as I motherfucking fuck my fucking anger right into your hollow.
Slap didn’t send the message? Here comes a few more but harder.
Hardness deep inside you matched only by the hardness of the hair pull forcing your eyes and head to point where I fucking say you will look towards.
My world is forever changed now, with the knowledge that real passion, real “making love”, can only be truly achieved when I let loose and unravel. When I unleash the beast within me.
I know your primal state is there too, Kitten. I expect to see her. I expect the same in return.
So show me her, Kitten. Purr.