be my Stoya
read my blog, and masturbate
while i watch
from behind the camera.
dare me to not interrupt you
before you come.
i’m in no mood for romance. i’m not seeking the thrill of the chase. i don’t care if your hair is a mess or that you haven’t had time for a shower.
i want your sweaty mess.
i want your instant attention.
i don’t care if we get caught.
i want to fuck you,
i want to know your scent.
i want to know what it feels like to have your nails run down my back.
i want you to experience me.
i want that moment just before we do everything for the first time.
i want you to photograph me.
i want to walk in the rain with you.
i want you to whisper your desire in my ear.
i want to see the look in you eye when i come inside you.
i want you to want me.
i want you to choose me.
i want you.
your f-f-f-fears granted as
inexorably, you yield
to this experiment
he dared you to take a second cock
you dared him to un-love you
i’m a fucking genie to you both
my greatest memory of you is not the spark in your eye, the swagger in you walk, the timbre of your voice, or the devil in your smile. it’s the softness of your flesh in my hands
, that i never had
what are you today? a lioness, a gazelle, or a mouse?
it doesn’t matter, except for the size of the fight in you.
it doesn’t matter, i’m still going to play with you, like a toy, and then fuck you in the ass.
we’re both writers, and want to share an illicit and carnal affair. you want me to love you in front of your husband, and fuck you behind a closed door. (yes, i’d pull your hair when i come). this is a modern day deluded love story. your anaïs weaves her way into my henry, except you are not french, and i’m not an american. you want to be dared, and so, i do. be my pussy willow.