I am controlled by this Bryiana,
What story has my face have told?
Her very presence sends a chill of electricity down my spine
A feeling of moist excitement trickle down my pants
Into the very depths of my groin
Her seduction is simply marvelous
Her dewy, fresh scent admixture of basil and Jasmine
Her dark, smoky skin seems to ruin my very appetite
Not out of disgust but out of unweaning want
She stalks inside and out of the sight of company’s gaze
Like a shy, sultry panther
Her walk is deliberate
Her touch is gentle
Her finger tips firm, yet fragile in its form
My appreciation of your frame has not yet been viewed or spoken
Or put on display in front of the company.
They do not know.
I secretly haunt you in my memories
Destined to never forget your every growing presence
Your jewels are to me as decorated lights are to Christmas.
They astonish me.
I dream at the nights where,
Our bodies are both parallel; touching at the hip
Your breast rises and falls as you sniff in my musty Dior odor
Your breath of a creamy brilliance
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