psssttt_mystery . i have a simple request from you darlin, i've seen and been highly red over dick sucking 101, would you happen to have a tongue lashing 102 handy, i've asked a certain young lady out and while i don't have hopes of proceeding too quickly with the engagement, i have been too long out of the arena to be in the certain knowledge that i could give pleasure in a masterful lick. with much loathing and hate, your fatal flower 031115 ... . pussy_eating_101 though i think it much understates the penetrative power of coordinated fingers, it is otherwise a masterful work. o that i had more wisdom to add as the inflicter of such niceties, but i am woefully underpracticed with the curvier species. slugs and kisses, mr. e 031115 ... . watch it mr. e, you make this old heart beat faster and pleasure infuse me. i shall name you my living dead girl. and dance with you every time you ask. 031115 ... . "having the hard appearance of death with the soft, fluent nature of growth" there is no death in me... desrtuction and vitality are too closely met to allow for stasis. how else am i to drink if i am not able to hear heart's tattoo beneath fingertips, feel breath hot and ragged answering my own? intoxicating might be the word for your scent, but senses are not dulled, they are sharpened with sparks at the wheel, they are treated to ambrosia-laced draughts. 031115 ... Death of a Rose then hoist my flagon and chant war cries with fervour, stampede me inside the gates of your house, drive me to the lash and ship, such intoxication is meant for gladiators, death to one and all, for we are inevitable, thrust and skin, blades sharpened with ice, feint and parry, riposte little goth? 031115 ... . my ripostes are sheathed in felt, the skies damping primal fever. the beast is waiting in the bushes, judging its moment. what cruelties shall i inflict in your name, brutal bloom? what tender soul will learn the taste of its own ego being bled for sport? through the aether such demons caress the point of primal, stroking me slowly to wakefulness. what poor prey will fall to to the fangs you have drawn forth? 031118 ... Fatal Flower if you are my herald here on this soil, reap a tender morsel tonight, make it want your feral attentions, stoke its furnace and thoughts enflamed. furtiveness and intense pupils may you find, bound and panting for your ride. 031118 ... . ah, but shall i devour such sweetmeat, or shall i leave its desperate mewlings, toss a scrap of a laugh to haunt it? it is, perhaps, that the answer lies in the lies that eyes tell, my gleaming is my giveaway but even so my actions are clouded in serpentine secrecy, still until sudden finality. i will carry your lash in my hand, and those that know me will think me as harmless as usual, as dangerous as they will allow me to be, and those who do not know my branches in breeze and in storm, they will tremble to feel my breath, and moan for your words. 031118 ... Death of a Rose a hiding tempest she will rain, acid burning, etching marks of arcane ritual in elastic measures. erotic might in her lungs. corpses and trailings are all that's left when a mystery happens to snare feeble prey in her ravaging smiles. lift your want this dusk, drape the blackness across your shoulders. eyes red and glowing will be a lasting vision marked upon the howling winds. again, m'alady, all my thorns and swords are yours to play storm vengence with 031118 what's it to you? who go blather from