joint venture

I let my hair go long, not because you might find it pretty, but because I like the thought of my dark, untamed, perfumed tresses spilling to your skin as I fly down and fold my head over your lap, your cock you, sprouting, growing past my teeth my tongue my throat, past my esophagus, my windpipe, my air my gut my blood. I am no longer. I am right here. Your rough hand reaches out for me, grabs my thick mane, my lionness mane, my woodfire mane.

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