wanton being

I can’t sleep because my bed’s on fire. The angels got together. Nipples. Gusset. Her skirt creeping up her backside, revealing the brash curve of flesh as she leaned over the table, reaching across to grab the photo out of the laughing boy’s hand. Soft shapely swells of fatty flesh, the ever-expanding bottom, formed to flirt behind, space jelly, teasing winking, jiggle and jounce, a flash of beauty appeared and as quickly was gone, curls and folds and wanton being.

Lord Malinov, Song of Songs

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
This entry was posted in books, fiction, literature, novels, quotes, reading, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s