Why don't you want to fuck me like you use to?
Lately you have steered left from our normal broadcasting system towards a lesser unknown and unpaved road. There's gravel where smooth terrain used to be. I've stepped on a rock or glass between my toes, are you going to lick it? You used to like that but now we've ventured into cosmic salacious drifting in and out from tasting my breath and snorting my essence, does that do it for you now?!
When does the pleasure of punishment begin? Does my hair no longer need pulling?! Will you tell me I am your "Good Girl" when I cum all over your dick and repeat the deeds dirty enough to make the devil blush? Where did this romance Of high-brow low simmer love making, make birth? I, for one, will reminisce about the abandoned parts of what was only to make room for what is to be and by that I mean: if change is what you desire to bring forth then talk dirty while you finger me.