She wanders in and the clothes vanish
Few words spoke, action is the only thing that is clear
In my eyes she appears to be searching until the dildo is brandished
What is she thinking I can't tell but her eyes appear filled with fear
Pain and pleasure combined she is scared of the unknown
Scared of the cries turned into moans
Will lust always resonate with the most powerful desire
Will love ever thrive here
Can she feel these thoughts as pleasure courses through us both
Pleasure just is, while love is hope
Passion is easier to deal with even in a temporary state
Is sex the reward for love or the bait
Love clearly is to be given and not taken
But really screw love unless it is love I'm making
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