

Sway There is nothing quite so intoxicating as waking up to the scent of freshly spilled gasoline. The aroma wafts into your nostrils as romantically as the fragrance of a flowery perfume. Your eyes flutter and a very delicate moan pushes past your loosely clasped lips. You twist your chin and rest it in the niche between your shoulder and neck as you stretch your arms above your head and list your torso from beneath your starch-white sheets made from pure Egyptian cotton. This is all what occurs before the information on the smell reaches your olfactory bulb, where your brain will discern the source of the odor. AndSway


Dreamer's Canvascold nights, I let myself dream of your silhouetted form, against the icy blue sky, looming above the branches of trees, twisted as the turquoise sheets would be, surrounding our bodies, a blur of childish giggles, innocent kisses, we were yellowed figures on a pale blue canvas, our skin dotted with orange drops of sun, as your lips brushed, like the tools of an artist, new shades of colors not yet invented, across my flesh, until I was a spectrum of my own, but it couldn't last it never does, the hues once emblazoned on me, now fade and dawnDreamer's Canvas
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I smell like Cotton Candy
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Age doesn't make maturity. Anyone can tell you that.
~*~*~*~*~*~
OTP Of All Time;
-peanutbutter and chocolate
Click here for porn
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